So Night Follows Day Pt. 09

The screen returned. The Minister introduced another, younger man in his thirties. at a desk in a more open area. It made Troy think of the supervisor's desk at a call center, in the middle of an open office floor, probably looking out over a bullpen of desks.

"Buenos Dias, Señor Equals. I am Carlito Cortez, head of the Ministry's Electronic Intelligence Gathering Division. My team is standing by for your instructions, sir."

He turned the camera toward a group of men and women, many of whom were in their teens or just out of them, seated at desks with computers that looked to Troy like the kind of high-powered custom setups he'd seen hardcore PC gamers post pictures of online. Helen turned Troy to face her again.

"Whyte has tech people. I have tech people too. You need hackers? You've got them. You're too important to all of us to go be James Bond like you want, Troy, but I hope Jack Ryan's close enough. Now, talk to Your People and tell them what to look for."

* * *

Susan Bailey stood topless on the sidewalk of what would normally be a busy Seattle street, a block away from the Seattle Hotel de San Finzione. The main difference between this and other days, apart from Susan's wearing neither shirt nor bra on a busy sidewalk, was that protesters, rather than Seattle motorists, were the ones committing a deliberate hate crime against people who had to be somewhere.

Beside her, Primo Tenente Marisol Velasquez of San Finzione's elite Squadra de Ultimados stood, wearing a leopard-print two-piece bikini that barely performed its function. Mander stood on the other side of her, wearing black cargo shorts and a black t-shirt. He looked over at the crowd of women, some nude or semi-nude, protesting in favor of Sexual Equality; which they were about to join to make their way through the protests and into the hotel where Rita Delvecchio, Contessa Helena de San Finzione's double, needed to be extracted.

"You two'll fit right in. Sad to say, I look like I belong more wit' those tossers on either side."

"Just stay behind me, both of you." Susan told them. She turned to Mander. "And hang onto your gun; there's sure to be pickpockets in a crowd this size."

"Ain't a worry." He said back. "Nobody's gettin' it from me."

They walked close behind Susan as she crossed the street and approached the crowd. Susan began tapping women on the shoulder, asking each politely, but having to shout to be heard through the multitude of voices, that they part the sea of humanity and be let through. Although all of them agreed, it was still a few minutes of tapping and shouting before they made it to the edge, where Susan put her shirt back on before they emerged on the other side, in front of the hotel entrance.

"You know," Velasquez said to Susan as they jogged the distance to the entrance. "It looks like you didn't have to remove your shirt at all to get through the crowd."

"Are you complaining?" Susan replied.

"No. They are very nice."

"Thank you, so are yours."

"Gracias."

"I wish you two's boobs were our biggest concern." Mander said as they went through the revolving door. "And believe me, you're both serious contenders; but I'm more concerned with that."

He pointed at a group of men walking into the elevator at the far end of the lobby. Six men in black suits, wearing long, thin ties walked into the elevator and turned around. Their skintones were Asian, but the distance was too far for Susan to discern which Asian race before the elevator closed.

"Triads?" Susan turned to ask Mander.

"I'm sure 'Er Countessness woulda told us if John Woo was havin' a party here, so guessin' yeah."

They ran for another elevator.