And while they live their squalid existences of abject poverty and suffering, they continue to consume and destroy the very planet that gives them life. ” Helmann’s voice droned on and on. That was one sick bastard.
“Ah, young Will.” Sir Walter pulled a chair around for me so I could watch.
I shook my head. “‘S’okay,” I said. “Seen it all before.” I grabbed a plate and shoveled some sort of lunch meat and cheese onto it.
“Rolls in the paper bag,” said Mick.
I grabbed one and tore into it with my thumbs, layered the meat and cheese inside, and took a large bite.
The roll was crusty outside, fluffy inside, fresh and slightly soured.
“Good, huh?” asked my sister.
“Incredible,” I said, remembering a moment too late to swallow before talking.
Mick shook her head at my lack of manners, but she didn’t get on my case. “It’s like it’s against the law to make bad bread in Europe,” she said.
Sir Walter laughed. “Certainly , it is in La France .”
I nodded. “I read about that in a bread book. How the government regulates baguette production.”
Mick’s “That’s just weird,” overlapped with my “It sure works.”
I punched her shoulder and she mussed my hair. We were friends again.
“So what’s the plan for today?” I asked. “Blow up Geneses Romana ?”
“You wish,” snorted my sister. “No, I take that back. I wish.”
Sir Walter slid a sheet of paper along the table to me. “I returned last night and have created this map of the headquarters of Geneses in Rome.”
I studied the sheet. Three floors, a handful of offices on each. Far smaller than the empty building we’d explored in Clichy–sous–Bois.
“This is great,” I said. “Sorry about last night. You shouldn’t have had to do this by yourself.”
With long fingers fluttering like butterfly wings, he waved my apology aside.
“So we’re looking for, one—” I held up a finger, “What Helmann’s buying buildings for, and, two—” another finger, “What Helmann’s timeline is for the end of the world.?”
Mick spoke. “Don’t forget three,” she said, extending a carefully–chosen finger, “How to totally make Pfeffer’s life a living torment.”
Sir Walter ignored my sister’s rude gesture. “I believe that about sums it up.”
“How about you?” I asked Mickie. “You going to tour the Eternal City today?”
She frowned.
“Your sister has graciously consented to remain within–doors,” said Sir Walter. “So as to avoid unwanted detection.”
“Oh,” I said. “Aw, Mick, I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “No big deal. You’re the one in love with old, fallen–down buildings, not me.” Then she smiled. “Just keep the Italian food coming and no one gets hurt.”
“Cool,” I said. It went without saying I was all for Italian food.
Sir Walter and I departed, zipping invisibly along narrow Roman streets made of an ancient cobblestone. Hey, I wrote out, mind if we push pause here for a minute? It’s just, I hesitated. Sam would totally get why this mattered. I wasn’t sure Sir Walter was going to. I, uh, want to feel the road for a minute.
I heard a low chuckle in my mind. But of course , was all he said.
I reached down, plunging a hand back and forth through the smoothed–over surface. It felt like a warm river that flowed every direction all at the same time. Like that bubbler thing that pushed water up from a rock at Sam’s pool. I could’ve stayed here pushing my hand back and forth all day. But as I glanced around, I changed my mind. Rome’s like, made out of stone. Roads, sidewalks, buildings, fountains, road barriers, fencing—everything’s made of rock. Man, I could have some fun here. But it wasn’t a real temptation. Not with the job in front of us. And in any case, not without Sam by my side.
Feeling the ache of her absence again, I tried shoving it away, down inside my shoes.
Let’s go , I wrote.
A man who cannot pass his days in La
“Ah, young Will.” Sir Walter pulled a chair around for me so I could watch.
I shook my head. “‘S’okay,” I said. “Seen it all before.” I grabbed a plate and shoveled some sort of lunch meat and cheese onto it.
“Rolls in the paper bag,” said Mick.
I grabbed one and tore into it with my thumbs, layered the meat and cheese inside, and took a large bite.
The roll was crusty outside, fluffy inside, fresh and slightly soured.
“Good, huh?” asked my sister.
“Incredible,” I said, remembering a moment too late to swallow before talking.
Mick shook her head at my lack of manners, but she didn’t get on my case. “It’s like it’s against the law to make bad bread in Europe,” she said.
Sir Walter laughed. “Certainly , it is in La France .”
I nodded. “I read about that in a bread book. How the government regulates baguette production.”
Mick’s “That’s just weird,” overlapped with my “It sure works.”
I punched her shoulder and she mussed my hair. We were friends again.
“So what’s the plan for today?” I asked. “Blow up Geneses Romana ?”
“You wish,” snorted my sister. “No, I take that back. I wish.”
Sir Walter slid a sheet of paper along the table to me. “I returned last night and have created this map of the headquarters of Geneses in Rome.”
I studied the sheet. Three floors, a handful of offices on each. Far smaller than the empty building we’d explored in Clichy–sous–Bois.
“This is great,” I said. “Sorry about last night. You shouldn’t have had to do this by yourself.”
With long fingers fluttering like butterfly wings, he waved my apology aside.
“So we’re looking for, one—” I held up a finger, “What Helmann’s buying buildings for, and, two—” another finger, “What Helmann’s timeline is for the end of the world.?”
Mick spoke. “Don’t forget three,” she said, extending a carefully–chosen finger, “How to totally make Pfeffer’s life a living torment.”
Sir Walter ignored my sister’s rude gesture. “I believe that about sums it up.”
“How about you?” I asked Mickie. “You going to tour the Eternal City today?”
She frowned.
“Your sister has graciously consented to remain within–doors,” said Sir Walter. “So as to avoid unwanted detection.”
“Oh,” I said. “Aw, Mick, I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “No big deal. You’re the one in love with old, fallen–down buildings, not me.” Then she smiled. “Just keep the Italian food coming and no one gets hurt.”
“Cool,” I said. It went without saying I was all for Italian food.
Sir Walter and I departed, zipping invisibly along narrow Roman streets made of an ancient cobblestone. Hey, I wrote out, mind if we push pause here for a minute? It’s just, I hesitated. Sam would totally get why this mattered. I wasn’t sure Sir Walter was going to. I, uh, want to feel the road for a minute.
I heard a low chuckle in my mind. But of course , was all he said.
I reached down, plunging a hand back and forth through the smoothed–over surface. It felt like a warm river that flowed every direction all at the same time. Like that bubbler thing that pushed water up from a rock at Sam’s pool. I could’ve stayed here pushing my hand back and forth all day. But as I glanced around, I changed my mind. Rome’s like, made out of stone. Roads, sidewalks, buildings, fountains, road barriers, fencing—everything’s made of rock. Man, I could have some fun here. But it wasn’t a real temptation. Not with the job in front of us. And in any case, not without Sam by my side.
Feeling the ache of her absence again, I tried shoving it away, down inside my shoes.
Let’s go , I wrote.
A man who cannot pass his days in La
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