resigned: ‘of course she has’. Yvonne glanced back at Smoke, who was staring directly ahead, seemingly, now, disconnected entirely from the situation. She returned Yvonne’s glance; startling Dio as her perfect, statue-stillness was eerily subverted by the movement of, literally, not a single muscle in her body other than those it took to redirect her eyes.
“She has.” Smoke confirmed.
“Tactical support.” Wright recalled. “Correct?”
“Correct.” Smoke, again, confirmed. Wright sighed.
“Ignore her. She’s in a mood .” The words positively dripped with sarcasm.
“Suits me.” Yvonne shrugged, breaking a strange, lingering stare -off with Smoke; turning back to Wright.
“Are we going to be working on the same project?” Dio asked, suddenly curious. “In a di fferent capacity?” Wright’s brow furrowed.
“Refresh me, if you’d be so good?”
Dio briefly ran over the basic details of their work – the surveillance and record-keeping – and outlined the small amount he and Yvonne had known about the project as a larger whole: that at some indeterminate point in the future, a list of ‘identified targets’ – over the course of precisely eight hours – would need to be located and detained. Dio had assumed it was training; to test their skills and instincts. Yvonne hadn’t been so sure. Dio felt it best to leave this final detail – regarding their speculations – out of what he told Wright.
“Oh, no ...” Wright shook his head emphatically. “Palatine does have some stake in that particular project, but that’s...” he laughed: “No. Never fear: we have much loftier plans for two individuals of your calibre than that.” Smoke coughed. “ Problem ...operative Smoke?” Wright enquired. Smoke shook her head.
“Nope.” The blonde replied icily. Clearly there was. Dio w ondered what it could have been? From the smirk he noticed on Yvonne’s face – dimpling her cheeks ever so slightly – he suspected that she had a theory or two.
“This is where I leave you, for the time being.” Wright said, getting to his feet. “Yvonne? Dio?” He warmly shook both of their hands, clasping a second hand over each of theirs as he did so. “The Esquiline Division has been lucky to have you. Palatine will, I suspect, be even luckier. And...just to assuage your concerns in terms of any uncertainties or misgivings that may be troubling you...the commander of Palatine Hill is not particularly besotted with...‘micro-management’.”
“Too busy peeling the wings off of flies and torturing house -pets, probably...” Smoke quipped darkly, getting to her feet. Wright shot her a look which said, opaquely: ‘tread...carefully’. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. He continued:
“As such, I will continue to liaise with you directly on behalf of The Seven throughout your intake and, in all probability, throughout any subsequent training or participation in any...‘professional development’ activities that are likely to be required of you. Operative Smoke...if you’d be so good...” He sighed, holding a hand out in the general direction of the bunker’s entrance. Or, in this case, its exit.
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“I will, of course, see you both on the other side.”
§§§
Leaving the bunker, Smoke, Yvonne, and Dio – in that order – had emerged into the near-freezing November night. Smoke had hurriedly bundled them into a waiting, window-tinted town-car, which proceeded to speed towards the heart of Pueblo. While not as long as a stretch-limousine, the town-car had been converted to hold two sets of seats – facing one another – in its’ back section, with a blacked-out privacy screen dividing this section from the driver’s compartment. Smoke sat in the back – across from Dio and Yvonne – avoiding eye contact. She focussed her attention out the window: slumped forward; arms folded over and resting on her knees.
“Palatine Hill’s in
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