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Of course they’re trying to kill me, thought Dalton. It’s Tuesday.
Today really was a nice day to die. Spring comes early to Venice. Cheerful sunshine. Warm breeze from the Adriatic. And Venice is a wonderful place to do just about anything. Though death by violence wasn’t Dalton’s first choice.
Rachel, Dalton, and Bodin sat at the dining room table in Bodin’s apartment in Dalton’s Venice headquarters. “If we’re lucky, the attackers will be Sayeret Matkal, Israeli special forces. They’re expert killers on a battlefield, and great improvisors.” Rachel spoke with admiration. “But they’re not really assassins. They won’t work well in Venice crowds.” She sounded slightly disappointed.
Bodin said, “Swell. And if we’re unlucky?”
“Mossad. Expert assassins” she spoke with contempt. “Not team players. They’ll look just like tourists or local Italians. We’ll never see them coming.”
“How much time do we have?” asked Dalton.
“Anywhere from two hours, if it’s Sayeret Matkal, since they’re already here, monitoring you two, to as much as two days if it’s Mossad.”
Dalton was surprised. “They’re already here? They found me?”
“They never lost you.” Rachel didn’t mention that that was because she had loaded tracking software hacks on his laptop long ago. “I’ve been monitoring them.”
Dalton said, “So ... what are our assets? We’ve got my odds and ends of antigrav wave generator hardware. We’ve got Rachel’s programming ability. And we’ve got Bodin’s creativity. That’s not bad ... if we had a couple of weeks to prepare. But I don’t even have shields working yet. I think we need to call for help.”
“Who should we call?” asked Bodin.
“Well, there’s Boingy,” said Dalton. “And maybe the Italian police. And maybe the US embassy. Maybe the Marines can help us. After all, we’re all US citizens.”
“Uh ... not exactly,” said Rachel. “I’m not. And I may have burned that bridge when I left the US.”
“Oh,” said Dalton, “Now that you mention it, I think we all burned that bridge. The President tried to lock us up. And I don’t think we left her in a charitable mood.”
“Okay, so not the US embassy. Can the Italian police help?”
Rachel snorted. “Not against Mossad and Sayeret Matkal. In that fight we’re better off without them.”
“Well, that simplifies things,” said Bodin. “Let’s give Boingy a call. I wonder if he can get us anything useful in two hours.”
Dalton said, “The best I’ve got from Boingy is a shield for this building. It’s not very strong because I don’t have any large MAGE generators. But they’ll stop people, and they should stop a bullet.”
“Should?” asked Bodin.
“I have no way to test them,” said Dalton. “I’ve got all the drapes and blinds closed to keep them from aiming at us. Meanwhile, I’m growing some larger MAGE generators in my MEMS-printers. But they won’t be big enough to do anything useful for at least four days.”
An hour later, Dalton’s computer sounded the red alert siren from Star Trek. He muted the alarm and examined the screen.
Dalton told the others, “The shields just stopped a bullet aimed at Bodin’s dining room window.” The alarm sounded again. Again muted. “Bullets in quick succession at a first-floor window and a third-floor window. Now the roof.”
“They’re probing the shield,” said Rachel. “They’re using silencers, or we would have heard shots.”
“According to the computer, all the shots are coming from the hotel across the piazza. A window on the third floor.”
“Time to hunker down and wait until Boingy sends the cavalry,” said Bodin. “I’ve got plenty of food. Dalton, do you have battery backups for your shield generators?”
“Yes, lots of batteries. Plus four kilowatts of solar panels, if needed, for recharging.”
“Good. I bet it’s been a while since there was a siege in Venice.”
Dalton asked, “Maybe we should call the local police for this? We know exactly where the bad guys are, and they’ve got illegal weapons.”
“True,” said Rachel. “And I doubt the Sayeret Matkal is stupid enough to get in a pointless firefight with the police in the middle of a crowded city.” She paused. “But then what? The police are going to ask questions. They may be corrupt, but they’re not stupid. They’ll want to know why the government of Israel wants to kill three famous inventors and billionaires. You can bet the story will make the headline news around the world within ten minutes.”
“I’d just as soon avoid that publicity,” said Bodin. “It wouldn’t be good for Project Whammy. Not at all.”
Every 30 minutes or so Dalton’s laptop alerted them to more bullet strikes.
Every three hours or so a Sayeret Matkal soldier appeared with a dustpan and broom to sweep up the dozen or so spent bullets fallen on the walkway beside Dalton’s building. They didn’t want anyone tripping over them, as they posed the same hazard to pedestrians as marbles strewn about. And someone might wonder where they came from.
This went on for two days.
“I don’t think we’re a high priority for Boingy,” said Dalton on the afternoon of the second day.
“Eh, he’s got his hands full trying to stop some wars. I think he thinks we can handle ourselves for now. We’ve done okay so far.”
Rachel added, “We mustn’t underestimate the Sayeret Matkal. They train for years to think and act as a team. A team is almost always smarter than any one person. I’ve been racking my brains for two days trying to figure out what they’ll do next.”
“Any conclusions?”
“I’ve narrowed it down to about twenty options. And I can’t figure out why they haven’t done any of them yet. I can’t figure this out. They shouldn’t be waiting this long ... unless headquarters has told them to wait. And if they’re waiting, they’re probably waiting for Mossad to show up. And that’s not good either.
“And I can’t figure out why they keep shooting. They know we’re shielded. They know we have backups or they would have tried to cut our electricity by now. It’s like they’re shooting just to remind us to keep the shields up. Somehow that works to their advantage. Maybe they think that we might get away if we dropped the shields.”
“In a few more days we can get away,” said Dalton. “As soon as the new MAGEs are ready.”
“I just have the feeling we’re trapped in a lose-lose situation. If we drop the shield, they’ll win. Yet they want us to keep the shield up. But why? What am I missing?”
Bodin said, “Do you smell smoke?”
Rachel stood up suddenly. “And that’s what I’m missing. They found a way to burn us out. Dalton, we need to find the fire.”
Rachel and Dalton ran around the floor, opening all the doors, sniffing and running to the next room.
“It’s not on this floor,” shouted Rachel. “You take the third floor. I’ll take the first. Do you have radios?”
“No, just phones,” said Dalton. “Put on your headset. I’ll network us together.”
“What can I do?” asked Bodin.
“I dunno,” said Rachel, running for the stairs. “Fill a bathtub with water. We may need it. And find buckets.” She ran downstairs.
Rachel found the fire. A drape on a first floor window facing the piazza was smoldering smokily. While she watched, a pinpoint spot of brightness appeared near the smoldering part, and the fabric there burned, then smoldered.
“They have a laser,” she said to the phone. “They’re setting the drapes on fire. They don’t burn much, but they smoke a lot. That’s just as bad. The smoke is probably toxic.”
She looked around for a fire extinguisher. Found one, and sprayed the drape. Another bright spot erupted briefly in flame nearby, then smoldered.
“Fire extinguishers don’t work on this,” she said. “The laser just ignites it someplace else.”
“Pull the drape down, and bring it to my bathroom,” said Bodin. “The tub is filling.”
“Right,” said Rachel. She yanked down the drape. As she did so, a flash of pain crossed her arm. “Ouch! Dammit!” She spun around beside the window, her back to the wall. She looked at a thin thread of red welt across her right forearm.
“Don’t let the laser hit your skin. It burns a bit.”
As she stood there, a sheaf of papers on a desk near the window burst into flame. She put it out with the fire extinguisher. Another stack of papers immediately burst into flame. Then another.
“I’ve got more fires down here. Could use a hand.”
“Coming!” said Dalton.
“Bring buckets of water. We need to soak the drapes in place. Don’t pull them down. Once you pull them down the laser starts igniting everything in the room.”
Bodin broke in, “I think something may be burning here on the second floor. I’m smelling a lot more smoke.”
“I’m on the second floor now,” said Dalton. “I see the smoke. Bodin’s living room drapes. Bodin, where are the buckets?”
“Check under the sink.”
“Got one. That’s all there is.”
“Find a big mixing bowl. That’ll work,” said Rachel. “Is there a custodian’s closet here?”
“First floor, between the bathrooms next to the conference room.”
“We need buckets on each floor.”
“Working on it.”
Rachel ran to the custodian’s closet and found two buckets. “Dalton, I’ve got an extra bucket. I’ll leave it at the base of the stairs for you. You focus on the third floor. I’ll focus on the first. And we’ll alternately run to the second floor every couple of minutes.”
“Good plan.”
“Oh, shit, I’ve got two fires on the first floor. The laser sets paper on fire real fast.”
“Why aren’t the building sprinklers working?”
“They must’ve shut off our water. The valve is outside the building. The tub stopped filling. There’s no water from the taps, either.”
“Use the water in the toilets.”
“Shit, I’ve got three drapes smoldering on the third floor. It’s getting pretty smoky up here.”
“Do what you can. Go easy on the water. I’ve got similar problems here.” Rachel worked furiously for several minutes to move everything flammable away from the front windows.
Then she ran to the second floor to reduce the smoke and fires there. Then back down to the first floor.
She stopped at the base of the stairs, gasping from breath.
“Bodin, Dalton, if we keep this up, we’ll lose. We need another plan.”
They both agreed.
“So who’s got another plan?”
Silence, except for panting as they ran from toilets to fires with sloshing buckets that got lighter and lighter.
Then Dalton said, “I’ve got no other shields. No weapons. Nothing. Just one FPV drone.”
“What’s that?” asked Bodin.
“It’s a tiny drone, a little sphere the size of a golf ball. FPV means ‘first person view’. You wear a virtual reality headset and you fly it around as if you’re inside it.”
Rachel asked, “How fast can it go? Can it be used as a weapon?”
“No, it’s pretty slow. Maybe twenty, thirty miles per hour.”
“Well, that sucks,” she said. “But, it’s all we’ve got. And the best defense is a counterattack. Go fly it over to the hotel. See if you can figure out a way to take out that laser. I’ll fight the fires.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a shot. I’ve got a ventilation gap in the shields on the roof. I can fly it out of there.”
“And please hurry. I can’t fight these fires for long,” Rachel panted as she ran to the third floor.
Dalton ran down to his lab, activated the drone, and put on his virtual reality headset. In less than a minute he flew the drone through the ventilation ducts and outside the shield. A brief pause to get his bearings, then straight toward the hotel across the piazza.
“Only one window on the third floor is open. I’m heading in. There’s three men. Uh oh, one’s spotted me. He’s pointing me out to the others.”
“Try to bump the laser, but don’t let the beam hit you,” said Rachel.
“I can’t get near the laser. It’s a small thing. Looks like a flashlight. It’s on a tripod just inside the window. They’re swatting at me, keeping me away. I can’t get around them. I’m heading to the ceiling.”
Rachel said, “Dalton, the beam is wavering. The bright spot is jiggling around. It’s taking longer to ignite stuff. They must be bumping into it.”
“I’m on the ceiling now, keeping away from them. No, they’re not bumping into the laser. Now they’re just looking at me, staying between me and the laser.”
Rachel said, “The beam has stabilized. Got another fire here. Get them moving around more. Maybe their movement jiggles the floor in that old hotel and vibrates the laser.”
“Okay, I’m making some passes in front of them, just out of reach. They’ve grabbed pillows and are swatting at me.”
“Good, the beam is jiggling again. Keep it up.”
“One man is operating the laser. The other two have split up and are trying to corner me.”
Bodin chimed in, “Keep moving as fast as you can. Keep them moving, and don’t let them get organized. Keep switching from one corner to another.”
“Roger that,” said Dalton.
“Draw them toward the middle of the room. Then make a dash toward the window. See if you can get the guys chasing you to bump the laser out the window.”
“Okay, here goes ... nope, didn’t work. They’re too careful about the laser. Oh, shit. They’re throwing pillows at me. Oh, man, that was close.”
Bodin asked, “Dalton, can I talk to them through that thing?”
“Uh, yeah. You’ll have to come here to the microphone. Buy why?”
“Just an idea. Maybe I can tell them a funny story ... or jokes. You can’t aim a laser while you’re laughing.”
“Hell, give it a try,” said Rachel. “I’ll be there in a sec to take you down to Dalton.”
“No, you keep doing what you’re doing. I remember the layout. On my way now. I’ll follow Dalton’s voice.”
Rachel said, “Dalton, keep it up, I’m getting this fire under control, and the beam is jittering so much they can’t start a new one.”
Dalton shouted, “Oh shit, one just threw a blanket! Got me, I’m on the floor. There’s light in only one direction, going toward the light. Oh, thank god, I went under a bed. I came out on the other side. Back at the ceiling. Moving around more, keeping away, they’re still chasing me.”
Bodin made it to Dalton’s lab and Dalton handed him the microphone. “Hello, gentlemen!”
Dalton whispered to Bodin’s headset, “That got their attention. They’ve paused. They’re looking at me. They’re not aiming the laser.”
Bodin continued, “You’ve surrounded us. You poor bastards. You can’t get away now.”
Dalton whispered, “They’re looking at each other. They’re grinning.”
Bodin whispered to Dalton: “I’ll try to get them to make a mistake.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“I have no idea.” Then aloud, “Have you soldiers heard the story about the phantom violin on the Golan Heights?”
Dalton whispered, “One of them is poking the others to listen. They’ve stopped aiming the laser. They’re looking at the camera.”
Bodin said, “This ain’t no shit. A couple of years ago I was an advisor with the Sayeret Matkal on the Golan Heights. We were running a secret op to care for wounded Syrian rebels and civilians. We weren’t the rebels’ allies or anything. But they were fighting Hezbollah for the land bordering Israel, and we didn’t want Hezbollah to control that land. So, late every night we took a couple of armored vehicles into Syria to pick up wounded, and drop off those who’d been fixed up by Israeli hospitals.”
Dalton whispered, “One of them is nodding to the others.”
Bodin continued, “Well, one night we arrived at the pickup point, a grassy field on the side of a hill. It was a clear night, a little cool, and the sky just full of stars. Pretty sky. But an ugly field. About a dozen wounded lay there on stretchers. And half of them were in bad shape. Most had been hit by mortar shrapnel, which leaves a nasty, jagged wound. The Syrian medics had bandaged them as best they could. But it sounded like they’d run out of morphine. Two of the wounded screamed in pain. Three more moaned pretty bad. And one little girl, about five years old, cried as loud as she could cry, which wasn’t very loud. She’d been crying for a while. Maybe hours. She was getting hoarse.
“You ever hear a little kid cry until they’ve got no voice to cry with? I don’t ever want to hear that again.”
Dalton whispered, “They’re listening. Two of the men are nodding. Grim.”
“Our two medics started working to stabilize the wounded for transport, and give them painkillers. But I could see it was gonna take a while. I just prayed some miracle would help them work faster.
“Then the violin started playing. It seemed far away. And yet it was close enough to hear clearly, even through the screaming and crying. And it was playing a love song. I dunno what it was. I never heard it before or since. But you could hear the love in it.
“And the crying slowed down. And then stopped. And the screaming and moaning softened and stopped. And all we heard was the subdued talk of the medics while they worked. And the violin’s music.
“You know how a lot of violins make a scraping noise that grates on your ears? Well, not this violin. It was the sweetest, purest music I’ve ever heard. Like an angel singing. I know this sounds crazy, but it sounded like love.
“I don’t know who played that violin. We never found out. But for the next six months, until our mission ended, whenever we had a bad pickup like that night, whether it was a clear night or raining buckets, the violin in the darkness played love songs.”
Dalton whispered, “One of them is talking. He’s asking if you’re Professor LaBranche.”
“Can you put it on speaker?” Dalton did so.
“Yes, this is Bodin LaBranche. Not a professor anymore.”
“Good story, man ... Good story,” said the speaker. “I was there. I know it didn’t happen like that. But I wish it had.”
Bodin said, “I know what you mean. I served in Afghanistan. There are a lot of stories that I wish were true ...” His voice caught for a moment. “But aren’t.”
The Israeli said, “I know the real story of the violin. It tore up one of my buddies pretty bad. Lost his faith in God.”
“Yeah. I know. He told me.” Bodin paused. “But who we are ... We are the stories we tell ourselves. And sometimes we get to choose which stories we tell ourselves.”
“I think I get you,” said the Israeli. “Next time I see him, I’ll tell him your version of the story. Maybe it’ll help.”
Bodin said, “Maybe.”
Dalton whispered, “They’re standing up.”
The Israeli said, “It’s been good listening to you. And talking with you. But my team has a job to do.”
Bodin said, “Dammit, you’re hard to distract. Gimme time to tell another story.”
“Sorry. No.”
Dalton whispered, “Two are moving toward me again with a blanket and a pillow.”
Bodin, loud, “Well, if stories won’t work, lemme try insults. Yo’ mama wears combat boots. In bed. No, I’m sorry, I can’t say anything bad about your mama. She’s fantastic. Though I had to ask her to take her boots off.”
Dalton whispered, “Oh, shit, they’re swinging at me a lot. They’re fast. Hard to dodge. I can’t keep this up long.”
Bodin shouted, “You missed me again! Must be Army pukes. Better give up and call for air support! As usual!”
Dalton whispered, “The one at the laser is grinning. The others are mad. They’re swinging fast. Oh, shit, almost got me.”
Bodin, with a sneer in his voice, “Missed me again. You call yourselves soldiers? Are you sure you’re not French?”
Dalton whispered, “Uh oh, he threw his pillow. Brushed me. Tumbled me. If you’ve got a plan, Bodin, now would be a good time.”
Bodin whispered back, “What are you talking about? This IS my plan.”
Dalton yelped as he dodged a blanket.
Bodin said, “Excellent form. I bet you win all the pillow fights in your barracks.” Then he whispered to Dalton, “Instead of dodging away from them, try dodging toward one. Dive as fast as you can at one. Make them flinch. Make them scared of you. Make them move slower and more careful.”
“Good idea. Here goes. Under the pillow and ... I accidentally rammed that one in the balls. He looks surprised, but not hurt. But he’s coming at me more carefully. And I think he’s mad.”
Rachel said over the phone, “Go for his nose or eyes. Those are sensitive.”
“Okay, I’ll try ... got one right on the nose ... the other ... oops ... missed him ... back to the ceiling.”
“Keep it up,” said Rachel. “The laser is all over the place. No new fires. But we can’t keep this up much longer. It’s still a losing strategy. I’ll come down and chat with them. Maybe I can get them to call it off.”
“You? What? How?” said Dalton.
Bodin smiled. “Stand by, guys. Someone else here wants to speak with you. Someone you probably know.”
Dalton whispered, “They’ve stopped. They look a little puzzled. Hell, I’m puzzled, too, come to think of it.”
Rachel arrived and took the microphone from Bodin. “Shalom, gentlemen, this is Captain Rachel Baruch. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
Dalton whispered, “Three jaws just hit the floor. You’re who? Wait, what’s going on?”
Rachel continued, “Did you know that I’m one of your targets? And that your other targets are two of my close friends? Was that mentioned in your orders?”
Dalton whispered, “They’re looking at one another.”
Rachel said, “Up to now it’s been a fun exercise. But if you start a real fire, or harm my friends, I’ll get annoyed.”
Dalton whispered, “They’re huddled and talking with each other.”
Snippets of hushed conversation came from the speakers on his desk. “... Orders ... no mention ... Russian mafia ... Captain Berserker ... legendary ... but the orders!” One of them raised his voice, “Fuck the orders. The situation has changed and we’re trained to think for ourselves!” Then more snippets, “... can’t ignore orders ... chain of command ... don’t make her mad ...”
“Gentlemen,” said Rachel, “it might help if you told me what your orders are. Perhaps we can reach some compromise.”
Dalton whispered, “One of them is standing up. Looks like the senior man. He just saluted the camera. Wow, sharp salute.”
The Israeli’s voice came from the speaker, “Captain Baruch, ma’am, we’re sorry that you’re caught up in this. Very sorry. That’s an accident. No one told us. But our orders are to kill Bodin LaBranche, or kidnap him and take him to Israel. And we don’t mean to harm you or anyone else over there.”
“Interesting,” said Rachel. “That doesn’t leave much room for compromise. What if I order you to stand down. And I’ll take full responsibility.”
“That’s very nice of you to offer, ma’am. And I wish I could accept that. I really do. But I’m afraid you aren’t in my chain of command. And ... well ... you know the rules, ma’am.”
Cold enough to frost the windows, Rachel said, “I see.”
The Israeli spokesman said, “What if we just kidnap Mr. LaBranche? No killing?”
Rachel said, “You’re trained to think for yourself. What do you think?”
From the speaker, in the background, one of the soldiers moaned, “We are so fucked.”
The spokesman said, “I’m very sorry, Captain, for what we have to do.”
Rachel said, “And I’m sorry, soldier, for what I have to do.”
An Israeli said in the background, “Holiday in Venice, my ass! Fuckin’ suicide mission!”
Rachel took off her headset and handed it back to Bodin, saying, “Didn’t work. They’re good soldiers. Best I could do was scare them. That’s all my reputation’s good for.” She sounded disgusted.
“It worked on me,” said Bodin with reverent respect.
Dalton’s voice squeaked, “Me, too.”
Bodin put on the headset, took a deep breath, and taunted the Israelis, “C’mon guys, there’s got to be a better way to earn money for your sex change operations. Have you tried a brownie bake sale? Heck, I’ll loan you the money. I know a guy in Islamabad who’ll give you a great group rate. And afterwards I’ll give you a sterling reference to join the Girl Scouts.”
Rachel said, “Uh oh, the beam is gone. They must be pointing at a different floor. I’m heading upstairs to check.”
“No, they’re not pointing upstairs,” whispered Dalton. “They took the laser off the tripod. They’re trying to point it at me, at my camera.”
“Keep moving,” whispered Bodin. “That laser will blind your optics, or slice right through you.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can. So far so good. I’m going around in a circle above the guy with the laser. I’m trying to get him dizzy. Maybe he’ll trip ... Nope, no luck with that. These guys are too damn good. Between the pillow, the blanket, and the laser I’ve been lucky to last this long. I dunno how much longer I can keep this up.”
Bodin whispered, “Is there a mirror on the wall? Circle in front of it. Maybe the reflection will blind them.”
Dalton whispered, “No luck there. The only mirror’s on the wrong wall. The grazing angle reflects away from them.”
Bodin whispered, “Wait a minute. Is there a sprinkler in the ceiling?”
“What? No ... yes, there it is, about a foot from the ceiling light fixture.”
Bodin said, “Hide behind it. Then stop. Get the laser to shoot at you through the sprinkler.”
Dalton whispered, “Okay, will do. Dodging. Dodging.”
Aloud Bodin sneered into the mike, “I don’t mean to be insulting, but you’re a really bad shot. Maybe you should call room service for help.”
Dalton whispered, “I’m behind the light fixture. Now moving sideways behind the sprinkler. Stopping. Oh, damn, blinding light. Oh, shit, water everywhere! It worked! The laser set off the sprinkler!”
Bodin said, “I can hear the hotel’s fire alarm from here!”
Rachel said, “I’m looking out a window. People are running out of the hotel. You can bet the police will be there in a minute.”
Dalton said, “I’ve moved outside the hotel room window now. My view is blurry from the water on my camera. And part of my field of view is burned out. But I can see the three guys are grabbing what they can and running out the door. They don’t want to be caught here. One of them just saluted me on his way out the door.”
“I doubt we’ll see them again,” said Rachel. “They won’t hang around. The hotel staff will give their pictures to the police. They’ll have an escape route planned, but they’ll be lucky to get out of the city without being stopped.”
“Great job, Dalton. Fly yourself back home,” said Bodin.
Rachel added, “I wouldn’t drop the shield yet. There are usually six in a Sayeret Matkal team. The others probably stationed themselves just outside our shield, hoping to get Bodin the moment he got smoked out. But I expect they’ll leave soon, with the rest of the team. In the meantime, Dalton, is there someone you can call to turn the water back on?”
Bodin said, “Let’s keep the house shield up a couple more days, until we each have personal shields.”