[Earth II] Mercy Not Sacrifice

[Pontificius]

Dramatis Personae

Antonio Nobili	Giovanni Ravalli	Yamin Tyburn	Julie Bourdon
Pieter Smit	Françoise Billiart	Corneille Arnauld	Eugéne André

[Pontificius]

ACT I

2015-02-18 07:38+01
[Location Unknown]

Yamin throws off the covers on his bed as he sits up slowly, adjusting to the coldness of the room. He walks over to the window overlooking the street below, which was already starting to bustle with life as people rush to work. It is not easy to make out the faces of the people outside given the heavy fog, but that is not something he is particularly interested in anyway. The near-freezing air outside seems to pass through the glass of the window onto his bare chest, but given his years in the military and his youthful resilience, he almost unconsciously welcomes the discomfort.

He walks to the small, unclean bathroom attached to his flat and looks at his unkempt hair and scruffy face in the old mirror above the dripping sink. Even besides having just woken up, there is no expression on his face. He just stares at the man in the mirror, and the man in the mirror stares back. He decides to hide his boyish face behind his facial hair, giving him a more resolute appearance. Slowly but ever more decidedly, a smirk creeps onto his face as he thinks about how delicious revenge is going to be.

2015-02-18 10:15+01
[City of Manresa, Sotanabeltz]

Giovanni Ravalli is already responding to his fourth email since he arrived at work 20 minutes ago, taking sips of his coffee in-between thoughts. He does not even look up past the short cubicle divider to see his cubicle neighbour, Antonio Nobili, saunter into the office still wearing his sunglasses.

“Buenos días, Gio,” Antonio calls out.

Gio looks up and replies, “Buenos días. I see you must have forgotten what day it is today.”

Antonio takes off his sunglasses and sees a dark cross made of ashes on his friend’s forehead. “No, I definitely remembered. How could I forget after that fiesta last night? No, I went by the church this morning, but the lines were coming out the door, so I decided to go later.”

“The lines are out the door every year,” Gio laughs. “Speaking of last night, how is it that you manage to have stayed out later than me? Don’t you have a wife and kids to take care of, Tonio?”

“Ah, my dear Gio, if you were married, you would know that a man doesn’t have a wife and kids to take care of so much as having a wife to take care of the kids,” Tonio responds wryly. “What are you giving up for Lent?”

“I’m giving up putting up with your troublemaking and actually getting some work done for a change,” Gio jokes.

“I’m serious, Gio,” Tonio insists in a quieter tone. “Maybe you should think about giving up being so serious and following the rules all the time. Have some fun. You’re 32 and single. Honestly, when was the last time you let loose and really went wild with some girl?”

“Lent is about reflecting on our sins, not causing them to multiply,” Gio says trying not to seriously consider his friend’s suggestion. “And besides, I do have fun.”

Tonio looks at him in disbelief. Gio sees his friend’s expression and says, “You know I’m an avid footballer.”

Tonio laughs. “Yes, that’s true, but you’re not going to find someone to start a family with on the team.”

Gio lets out a sigh of resignation. What else could he say? “Fine then. What are you giving up for Lent, Tonio?”

“From the moment we first entered the military 14 years ago, when have I ever given up something and actually made it through the entire 40 days?”

“Why don’t you try to do something instead of giving something up? Like think before you act?” Gio suggests.

Tonio lets out a loud laugh. “I’d be as likely to do that as you lightening up a bit.”

Another one of their co-workers hurriedly approaches them and says, “Nobili, Ravalli, conference room in three minutes.”

Both Tonio and Gio look confused at the urgency in the man’s voice and what he just said. “It’s a little early for a meeting, isn’t it?” Tonio asks, hoping that the meeting is optional.

“Smit’s orders,” the co-worker says back to them. “That’s two minutes and 50 seconds now.”


A man at least a decade older than Tonio and Gio stands at the head of the conference table, with his back to the screen. Caballero Cadete Smit is in charge of this division of military intelligence and has a commanding presence that even causes Tonio to respectfully listen. “Gentlemen, this morning we intercepted this disturbing video spreading on the international Internet. We don’t have time to watch the entirety of it, but we will watch the segment that demands our immediate action.” The team, gathered in the conference room with the lights dimmed, intently watch the video that has suddenly piqued everyone’s interests.

On the screen, a poor resolution image of a young Middle-Eastern man flashes to life with his bedroom serving as the background. “…like I said before, it is a grave injustice that the Sotanabeltzan government continues to mistreat its gay citizens. I know for a fact that there are many gay soldiers currently serving this government, and they remain silent even though they know that doing so means they are hypocrites. I personally have had several intimate encounters with men like these…”

Three explicit pictures of different men appear on the screen, at which point Smit turns the video off.

Another man in the room turns on the projector again, but this time data files appear for all to see. “The man in the video is Yamin Tyburn, 29 years old. He was a brigada until last summer, when Capitán General approved his discharge. He released his first video on August 18 of last year, claiming that our government is unjustly dismissing homosexual men from the military and government offices. What he wants is for the government to stop firing them and treat them equally as heterosexual men.”

“Sir, he was dismissed because he is a homosexual?” Tonio asks.

“In the video he says that he voluntarily left, because he could not continue with a clean conscience,” Smit replies.

“Does his claim have any validity?” Tonio inquires.

Gio says, “There have not been documented cases of termination due to a man’s sexual orientation from the military or government. However, what Tyburn may be referring to is the increasingly widespread practice in secondary education of terminating faculty and staff who are known homosexuals.”

“Because these teachers and staff members work in our secondary schools, they are government employees,” Tonio concludes. “That’s where Tyburn is getting his ammo?”

“Technically, yes,” Gio says uncomfortably. “The rationale is that while most homosexual men are not paedophiles, the vast majority of victims within the population of secondary education have perpetrators who are homosexual men.”

The others in the room look around bewildered.

“I’m not making a value judgment; I’m merely reporting the official policy of the government based on our psychological evaluations,” Gio quickly says, sensing the growing unease in the room.

“I’m not sure about the science behind all this,” Tonio admits, “but something tells me that isn’t the reason why we’re here.”

“That’s correct,” another man interjects. “The problem is that we have identified the three men whose photos he showed in the video as three active service members, all of whom are currently on duty abroad.”

The screen changes and displays more data files. “Erik Baker, 27, and Okoro Sharif, 30, are serving in Amigard. Maksym Gorski, also 30, is serving undercover in the Birean Empire,” Smit says briefly going over the information on the screen. We could not stop the video from being posted on the Internet, because it did not originate from Sotanabeltz.”

Another man in the room explains, “It is only a matter of time before the real identities of these three men will be publicly known. Amigard is not going to like that we had two agents in their country, even if they were there to gather data for potential diplomatic recognition. It is also not going to go over well with them as another Catholic nation that these two agents are being accused of having had homosexual relations. The more pressing concern is Agent Gorski. Given what we know about the Bireans, his life is at serious risk, both as an undercover agent and now for being homosexual. We need to come up with an extraction plan immediately.”

[Pontificius]

2015-02-28 14:36+01
[City of Manresa, Sotanabeltz]

Tonio sits on the large couch in his living room with his laptop besides him while he looks over locations of hundreds of thousands of different computers that have viewed the video in the past ten days. The video seems to be created, sent, and stored on hundreds of servers across Europe, making it difficult to pinpoint the original server from which the video was transmitted.

His wife enters the room smiling. “Who is this man and what has he done with Tonio?”

Her voice seduces him away from his work for a moment. “What do you mean?” he asks sheepishly.

“In the six years we’ve been married, I have never seen you work at home, let alone on the weekend.”

“I realized that myself,” Tonio admits. “There isn’t even a proper space I could do work. Do we even have a table aside from the one in our dining room?”

“No, because people aren’t supposed to work from home,” she replies while reaching down to hug him from behind. “Whatever it is, I’m sure the country won’t fall into pieces if you take your siesta. Come, lunch is getting cold.”

As she leaves the room, Tonio says, “I’ll be there in a minute.” He stares more intently at the data as if finally connecting the dots. “I’ll be damned,” he whispers. “I gotcha, you son of a bitch.”

He slams his laptop closed and rushes to his room. He tosses it and a change of clothes into a suitcase, grabs his wallet, keys, phone, and passport off the dresser, and bolts towards the door. His wife catches him off in a hurry and asks, “Tonio, where are you going?”

“You know I can’t say, dear,” he says without breaking his stride. “I’ll be back late tomorrow. Don’t wait up.” He kisses her on the way out, and once again, she is left with an unanswered question.

He gets into his government-issued car and calls Gio while zooming towards the airport in Barcelona. Gio does not answer and after a few rings, it goes to voicemail. “Gio!” Tonio blurts out, partly wishing to skip pleasantries. “I’ve got Tyburn’s location. I was looking at the data and noticed that all of the computers that have downloaded the video have not done so more than six times in the past ten days. However, there is one in Ibiza that has downloaded it almost 40 times! There’s gotta be some connection to him there, and that’s where I’m headed now. Call me when you get this message. Adios.”

2015-02-28 20:58+01
[City of Manresa, Sotanabeltz]

Gio is having dinner as he does every Saturday with his parents and sister’s family. This week it happens to be his turn to host the clan. It is always a time of laughter and joy, especially because his sister and her husband moved farther away from their parents now that she is married.

“Mijo, dinner was delicious as usual,” his mother says with a big smile.

“Yes, you’ve really picked up on your mother’s skill,” his father adds.

“That sounds like y’all are ready for dessert!” he says as he begins to take their plates to the kitchen.

“Let me get those,” his mother offers as she takes the plates from his hands. “You can go get the dessert.”

They both walk into the kitchen, him to the refrigerator and her to the sink with the dirty plates. As she wipes her hands on the towel sitting on the counter, she notices a flashing light on his mobile.

“Mijo, what do you call this again?” she asks pointing to the phone.

“It’s called a mobile,” he replies without giving any hint of annoyance that she has asked the same question millions of times before. “It allows people to make phone calls without actually being near a real phone.”

She continues her questions, “Is it supposed to be blinking?”

He walks over to it out of curiosity. First, he was curious why he even left it on the counter. Second, he was curious who would have called him on the weekend. He wakes it up and sees a missed call and a voice message from Tonio.

“That’s odd,” he thinks to himself. “Why wouldn’t Tonio just call my landline? It couldn’t actually be about work, could it?”

He listens to the message and his eyes widen in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, mom,” Gio says to her. “It’s work, and it’s urgent. Can you serve the dessert for me please? And please apologise to everyone for me.” He immediately heads towards his bedroom and takes out his laptop while calling Tonio.

2015-02-28 21:01+01
[Ibiza, Empire of Layarteb]

Tonio gets into his rental car when the call from Gio comes through. “Gio, you got my message?” he asks excitedly.

“Tonio!” Gio yells quietly so his family does not hear. “What the hell are you doing? This is not an authorised mission and you are in foreign territory! Smit is going to shit a brick and then make you eat it when he finds out!”

“Gio, relax,” Tonio says calmly. “I left him a message right after I called you, so he knows.”

“He does?”

“Well, he will know eventually. He hasn’t called me back yet.”

“God! Tonio! This is crazy!”

“You can double-check the information yourself. I’ve got this, Gio. Relax.”

“So what’s your plan when you get there? Just break into the building, find Tyburn, and bring him in?”

“Actually yes. I’ve checked via satellite that the point of origin is a private residence. There is little to no security. It’s a low-risk operation.”

“You cannot just go into a foreign country, break into someone’s home…”

Tonio interrupts him immediately. “First of all, Tyburn is still a national of Sotanabeltz, so it doesn’t matter where he is. Second, it’s only illegal to break into someone’s house if you get caught.”

“I…can’t even find the right words to say right now. There are just so many things wrong with this picture. Why did you even tell me? Just to get the satisfaction of hearing me freak out on you?”

Silence.

Gio continues incredulously, “You want me to help you, don’t you?”

“Well, you know it’s always good to have someone watch your 6,” Tonio begins to explain.

“You’ve put me between a rock and a hard place, Tonio. You’re my best friend, but if I help you, I’m going to face disciplinary action on Monday as well.”

“Come on, Gio, you’re record is squeaky clean. One disciplinary action won’t kill you.”

Gio opens his laptop. “I’ll look over your data while I try to bring up satellite coverage of your area.”

“Whoo! Attaboy, Gio! Lock onto my phone’s location and you can track me that way. You also may want to use infrared. We’ve got a lot of cloud coverage tonight.”

2015-02-28 21:47+01
[Ibiza, Empire of Layarteb]

Tonio zips up the mountainside, letting in the cool winter night air, just about at Yamin’s location.

“Uh, Tonio,” Gio says on speakerphone, “we may have a slight complication.”

As he gets closer to the house, Tonio sees the flashing lights and hears the music bumping. “There’s a party?”

“Yes,” Gio confirms. “I’m getting infrared readings for several dozen people in the yard and about a dozen in the main building. You’re not going to be able to pull up at the front gate, but there is a side gate on the west side of the property that is being used mainly for the catering.”

“Got it,” Tonio says as he turns off the main road towards the side gate. Sure enough, the side gate is open and a catering tent is set up just inside of it. He can see through the other side of the tent into the yard and confirms what Gio told him. “Looks like I’m not dressed for the party.” He turns on the camera on his phone so that Gio can see what he sees.

“No, you definitely aren’t,” Gio replies. The party goers are all fit, young men, wearing next to nothing. “Looks like you will have to be on catering staff tonight.”

Tonio sees someone from the catering staff leave the premises for a smoke break. Tonio aims his tranquiliser and fires right into the young man’s arm as he is about to light his cigarette. Tonio dashes towards him to break his fall. He drags the now-sedated man away from the gate into a dark place near the exterior wall and begins to change clothes. He notices immediately that the man is a bit smaller than he is, so the uniform he is wearing is going to be tighter. It is still better than the alternative.

“Alright, Gio, I’m going in,” Tonio says into his phone before placing it into his back pocket. He is sure to place the camera facing outward so Gio has eyes on the ground as well. He connects the earphones to his phone and runs them under his shirt, up his neck, and into his ear.

“It’s all clear.”

Tonio holds a tray of drinks as he makes his way around the partygoers into the house. The farther he gets into the yard, the more obscene things he sees. “Gio, are you seeing all this?”

“I am, Tonio, and I wish I could un-see it,” Gio confesses. “Just head straight for that door at your 11 and up the stairs.”

Just before he gets to the door, a partygoer steps in front of him. He eyes Tonio from head to toe and says with a grin from ear-to-ear, “Hey there, sexy. I couldn’t help but notice that you look like you’re about to burst out of that uniform. You think you and I could take a quick break somewhere? I’m sure I’d love seeing more of you.”

Tonio replies smoothly, “Sorry, I can’t. I’m working right now.” He hands the partygoer the last drink on his tray and walks around him into the house.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tonio tells Gio. “Not one word.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to say anything…‘sexy,’” Gio replies trying not to burst out laughing. “I’m actually surprised you were able to fit your phone in your back pocket, given how your ass must look like it’s about to burst out of your pants.”

“Alright, get ‘em all out now,” Tonio concedes with a sigh. “None of this is gonna make it back to the office come Monday, you hear?”

Tonio finds his way to the room that the signal is coming from, having avoided being caught by anyone thus far. There is no obvious server or computer in the room that is only lit through the window by the lights from the party in the yard below. “It’s not here, Gio.”

“It has to be. I can’t get a more precise reading, but it is coming from somewhere in that room.”

Gio looks at the data again and sees that it is showing that the video was downloaded again just a moment ago.

“Tonio, stop. It just downloaded the video again. I think you may have company, but infrared is not picking up anyone else on that level of the house.”

Tonio looks around the room, and like Gio said, there is nobody else there. Gio looks at the data again and notices something is not right. He queries all the previous downloads from the same location and sees that each time before, the same odd thing happened. He then switches the satellite away from infrared mode to see the electromagnetic fields in that room.

“Get out of there, Tonio,” Gio says urgently, “someone knows you’re there.”

He opens the desk drawer in the room and sees a laptop sitting there. “Gio, I found the laptop.”

“Damn it, Tonio, leave the laptop and get the hell out of there. Now!”

Tonio dashes out of the room and as he shuts the door behind him, he hears an explosion and feels the heat on the door. He hears people outside in the yard screaming as the explosion blasts through the windows and wall next to the desk, sending debris and paper littering the party below.

2015-03-02 09:59+01
[City of Manresa, Sotanabeltz]

“What the hell were you thinking?” Smit yells while throwing his hands up in the air. He paces back and forth in his office while Tonio and Gio are seated in front of him. “Well, Nobili, you probably weren’t thinking, so I’ll ask you, Ravalli, what the hell were you thinking?!”

Gio understands not to respond to his superior’s rhetorical question.

“Do you know how many laws you violated going rogue like that? Or how much…”

Before he could finish, Tonio finishes the thought for him, “…shit we could be in with Layarteb?”

Smit stops talking, partly surprised at Tonio’s condescending tone.

“With all due respect, sir,” Tonio continues to say, “could we present our findings?”

Smit says more calmly albeit still very irately, “I’m not finished with this, but I could wait until after this. Go on.”

Gio hands Smit a copy of the data he noticed that night. “We’ve established that this end user in Ibiza has downloaded the video many more times than any other end user since the video was released. I discovered that night that each time it was downloaded, it was actually also a remote upload. You see, whoever released this video didn’t have the server capacity to handle all the traffic, so what he did was about once every six hours, he would download the current video onto the Ibiza computer, send it to another random computer, and then upload the video again for distribution online. He somehow connected all the internet traffic through these random computers and used them as ways to expand his server capacity.”

“So what you’re saying is that Tyburn has a network of people working for him?” Smit asks.

“Yes and no,” Gio says. “Yes, in that I do not think that all of these computers are his, but no in that I do not think that these end users know that they are being used in this manner. I did a background check on all these end users, and they have all been away from their computers for the past two weeks on vacation or are infrequent, elderly users. If they used their computer at all, they would notice it being extremely slow due to this illicit activity.”

“And this residence in Ibiza, does it belong to Tyburn?” Smit asks.

Gio shakes his head, “No. I was able to pull up a history of Tyburn’s travels showing that he was indeed in Ibiza starting July 2 of last year and he was last seen in Ibiza on July 15, the day before his formal discharge. The owner of the house is an elderly gentleman who travels a lot and that is one of his vacation homes. He and Tyburn had several…‘indiscretions’ in early July. Tyburn was just one of several young men the owner of the chateau has had in the past several months. Tyburn must have set this whole thing up last summer when he had access to the house.”

While Smit was still processing the information, Gio continues to explain, “That night I was also able to use the satellite to see that when Nobili entered that room, a device in the room sent a signal off to a remote location, which sent a signal back to the laptop. As we then discovered, it was a signal to detonate the incendiary device embedded within the laptop or the desk drawer.”

Smit leans against the wall and nods in approval. “Do you have the location that these signals were sent to and from?”

“The signal that initiated the downloads of the video and the signal that detonated the device all originated from the same place: Avignon,” Gio says while handing Smit a report. “You can find everything I said and details in this report, sir.”

“We suspect that Tyburn is actually hiding out in Avignon,” Tonio says, hoping that he could get a little credit for the work he’s done.

“That’s correct, sir,” Gio says. “We are requesting permission to pursue this lead, sir.”

Smit flips through the report in silence for a moment. “You know, gentlemen? As much as I want to say something else, I have to admit you did good. We’ve got a lot of resources focused on extracting Agent Gorski, and the situation in Amigard is turning into a quasi-diplomatic headache. If we had the right amount of analysts on this, you wouldn’t have almost sacrificed your life in Ibiza.” Smit pauses to think about what to do. “I’m feeling real merciful right now, so I’m going to let you off with a written warning that will show for the record that this kind of behaviour cannot be tolerated under my watch. In an officially unrelated decision, the two of you have permission to go ahead with this mission.”

Gio lets out a sigh of relief as Tonio tries to contain his elation.

Standing up straight again, Smit says to them with authority, “There are two conditions, however. First, Ravalli, you are co-lead on this mission. You work with Nobili to call the shots, but you share equal blame for anything that happens. Second, you two are not to violate any domestic laws of the Kingdom of Holland so long as you are on their soil. There is no way in hell I’m going to put my neck on the line for an international incident with our neighbours. Can I trust you with just these two simple rules?”

“Yes, sir,” they reply confidently.

[Layarteb]

March 1, 2015 - 01:30 hrs [UTC+1]
Siesta, Ibiza
Residence of Joseph V. Midgett
(38° 58' 16" N, 1° 31' 40" E)

Inspector Martha Beal looked at the scene before her. Only minutes earlier the fire chief had declared the scene safe for entry. "It's pretty burned up in there; I don't know what you plan to find."

"Anything Chief, anything we can use. The marshal is positive that it was a bomb?"

"Yes ma'am. It was a small bomb, nothing that would ruin the entire house but it turned the room into a mess of shredded garbage. The fire ripped through the rest of the second floor before we got here and as you can see it spread very quickly. My guess is that the home owner had a lot of alcohol lying around to help in some of those rooms."

"Well it's a known party location. We're going to have a tough time interviewing everyone. Anything your men can help with will be appreciated Chief."

"Yes ma'am." That was the conversation and Inspector Beal looked over at her partner, Andrew Mastropietro, a Roman by birth who still spoke with something of an accent. She gave a nod and the two of them made their way through the front gate ignoring the flashing lights of the fire trucks and the hoses strewn around. The firemen were working on cleaning up their gear now, dousing small hot spots with fire extinguishers and doing their best not to get in the way of the two inspectors. Ibiza was part of a larger Special Cultural Zone where so called "crimes of the flesh" went unpunished. Because of that prostitution and drug use was rampant. Unlike the rest of the Empire, it was tolerated here but the moment anyone got out of line and attempted to assault, rape, or harm another, they were promptly slapped down by the strong arm of the Layartebian justice system.

Martha, whose name betrayed her beauty, was in her late-30s, divorced but not because she was married to her job like most policemen were. She was divorced because her husband of eight years had hightailed it off with a twenty-one year old model three years prior and she hadn't seen or heard from him since. It suited her to believe that he was lying dead in some gutter somewhere and no one had found the body yet. Her partner was nine years her senior and a senior inspector with the Ibiza Police Department and the two of them worked in the counterterrorism unit, which was why they were down here. Counterterrorism in Ibiza and on the rest of the Balearic Islands was important. Given the debauchery that went on there, extremist groups all over the world had zeroed in on the Balearic Islands as a target.

"What do we have then?" Mastropietro asked as they walked through the front door and put on their latex gloves. Flashlights were out and they walked through the charred hallway to get to the stone steps that led up the second floor.

"Small explosive device, which the marshal estimates at less than five hundred grams of plastique, the origin was in the top, desk drawer hidden in the back. Homeowner isn't around, somewhere out of town, I'm sure he's getting a phone call from his insurance company shitting bricks that a bomb went off in his home."

"I'm sure he's shitting bricks that he isn't here to be dead."

"What kind of evidence are we looking for here then?"

"Fire marshal pretty much pointed out the main point of it. He's got the device, or rather what's left of it and they're going to pass it off to the federal crime lab to see what they can determine." They entered the room to see just how torn to pieces it was. Despite the small size of the device, the devastating power of plastic explosives had been fully realized in the open space. The door was blown off of its hinges, the windows were shattered and the frames twisted, a bookshelf on the far wall had been shredded before being lit aflame, and the desk was in about five thousand fragments.

"Pretty big 'small' device don't you think?" Beal asked.

"I've seen it before," her partner answered. "Kind of bomb that size is enough to turn an airplane into a few hundred graves and I've seen one go off in a room like this before, a conference room meant to assassinate someone. Guy's head was in the wall and the rest of him was splattered everywhere else."

"Was the blast focused?"

"No, the marshal said it wasn't shaped, just a general charge designed to destroy the desk and the room."

"So it was definitely something designed to kill whoever was sitting at the desk. Yet there's no body here and there was a big party. No one was in here?"

"No one, the blue shirts are interviewing the partygoers but no one knew of anyone being in the room. It's 'off limits' and everyone knows it and they respect it. They come here to party because there's freeze booze, free drugs, a big pool, and all of the dick they can get."

"I bet the bedrooms were full."

"So it seems."

"All right now we have to find out if this went off accidentally or if someone violated rule number one."

"That's about the gist of it Beal. There's CCTV all over this house, we might be able to get something off of the tapes, if they weren't ruined by the fire. It's all digital equipment."

"That's a start," Beal centered her flashlight on a chunk of the desk that had been embedded in the ceiling above. Scorch marks showed where the fire had reached. "Whatever was on that desk ought to be up there you think?"

"Among many other places, what are you thinking?"

"A computer," Beal said, "can we get into the attic?"

"Might not be safe."

"Let's try anyway…"

[Pontificius]

ACT II

2015-03-02 15:00+01
[Avignon, Kingdom of Holland]

Tonio drives up to the front of a quaint inn in the middle of an historic district in the city. There is no mistaking him for anything other than a business man looking to get away for a few days, with his neatly-pressed dress shirt and slacks and two suitcases in the back seat.

He effortlessly carries his bags up the few steps to the door, opens it, and walks into a cosy space that could have passed for a living room had it not been for the young woman standing behind the counter. Her short, wavy brown hair evokes the perfect balance of professionalism and relaxation while her smile is nothing but welcoming to all guests who enter.

« Bienvenue à L'auberge de Clément. Que puis-je pour vous ? » she asks.

Pretending not to speak too much French, Tonio replies, « Parlez-vous anglais ou espagnol ? »

“Yes,” the innkeeper replies, “I speak some English. How may I help you?”

“I have a reservation under Nobili, first name Tonio.”

She takes a few seconds to pull up the reservation system on the computer on her side of the counter. A few seconds last a bit longer than she would have liked. “I’m sorry it’s taking a while. Our system has been a little slow recently.”

“That’s alright. Take your time,” he says reassuringly.

“Here it is,” she says with a bit of confusion. “The system doesn’t seem to indicate a checkout date for you, sir. How long will you be planning to stay with us?”

“I have an open-ended departure. Is it possible to bill me by the day?”

“It should be fine, given that it’s the off-season. There’s plenty to do around here, so please feel free to make yourself at home for as long as you wish.”

The front door opens again, ringing the little bell over the door and getting the attention of the innkeeper. The new guest is Gio, who walks up to the counter and stands next to Tonio all the while completely ignoring him.

“Hi, I’m here from the computer company,” Gio says to the innkeeper in French. “Is there an Otto Carlos here?”

“I’m afraid Mr. Carlos is unavailable at the moment,” the innkeeper says to Gio, “but for the time being I am the point of contact for the internet café next door. You’re late.”

“My apologies, miss.” He does not overlook the slight annoyance she is trying not to show.

“I will attend to you after finishing with this customer. Please have a seat in the lobby area in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Gio says as he lets her get back to her previous business.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she says to Tonio in English again. Handing him a set of keys, she says, “Now, I will show you around the inn and take you to your room.”

The two depart down the hallway to another part of the inn while Gio takes the time to look around the room. There were several framed pictures on the wall of the same family: two parents, a son, and a daughter. They chronicle different moments of joy, much more than the pictures could convey to the strangers who pass in and out of the inn. There is a spot on the wall, about the size of a picture frame, where the paint is not as faded, but the untrained eye would never have spotted it.

Soon Gio hears footsteps coming back down the hallway to the front room. He turns around to find the young woman he just met. She holds out her hand to shake his.

“I’m Julie Bourdon, manager of L'auberge de Clément and, for the time being, also the manager at the internet cafe.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Bourdon. I’m Gio. Again, my apologies for being late. The scheduler had made an error in some of my appointment times today.”

“Well then, let’s get to it, shall we?” Julie leads Gio to the other side of the room where there is another door that leads outside.

“Miss Bourdon, I couldn’t help but notice the lovely pictures of the family you have hung up in the lobby area.”

“I think it gives the space that feel of home, you know? I want all the guests to feel like that when they come to my inn.”

“Was there one missing from the collection?”

“Yes, it fell off the wall and the frame cracked. I have been meaning to get that replaced for some time now.”

After crossing a narrow alley, they go into the internet café where there are several customers using some of the many computers lined up in rows. Gio nods to the employee working at the café, who directed him to Julie in the first place.

Gio says to her, “If you want me to take a look at it, maybe I can fix it. No charge.”

She smirks, “You work with computers and picture frames?”

“I used to do wood work with my dad growing up. I guess you can say it’s a hobby of mine. Wouldn’t want to leave out a picture that completes the story of that family now, would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t,” she replies. “I take it you have a family, Mister…”

“Just call me Gio; no need for formalities. No, I am on my own for the time being. Do you, Miss Bourdon?”

“Not here, no. My family lives elsewhere, but I do visit them for the holidays sometimes.”

She takes him to the server closet next to the cashier’s stand and says to him, “In my initial service request, I mentioned that our Internet was experiencing frequent slowdowns and we have also noticed that the response time on our computer network, including the inn’s reservation system, has also experienced frequent delays in response time.”

Gio curiously notes the sudden change in tone and conversation topic. He decides to pick up her cue and asks, “How long, in your estimates, has this been occurring?”

“About two weeks.”

“I see. Well, let me see what I can do. Sounds like it shouldn’t be anything too serious.”

“Thank you,” she says with a sigh of relief. “If you should have any questions, you can talk to Marie here or come find me in the inn. Also, when you have time, could you please also check the wireless reception in the inn? Some guests have been experiencing difficulty getting connected recently as well.”

2015-03-04 16:32+01
[Avignon, Kingdom of Holland]

Tonio opens the door to his room from the hallway, takes off his jacket as he enters, and walks into the restroom. No sooner had the front door closed did he hear a knocking.

“Who is it?” Tonio asks.

“I’m here to check the wireless connection,” the man responded in French from behind the door.

Tonio opens the door, sees Gio standing there, and invites him in.

Once inside and away from prying ears, Gio asks, “So how is recon going so far?”

“I haven’t had any leads yet. I think it is safe to say that he has not been in the area for at least the past two weeks. You having any luck?”

“No, I went back to the approximate time of the incident in Ibiza, but the code on the server is much more complicated than I had anticipated. I’ve been working on it for the past two days, and I found that the signal was indeed sent from this server, but the command itself seemed to have been given here. However, the café wasn’t open that night and the activity on the server confirms that.”

“You think it’s time to call in the big boys in Manresa for help?” Tonio asks while he picks up his laptop from the small desk in his room.

“Yeah, let’s see if we can catch a break breaking through the code.” Gio heads out the door and says back to Tonio, “It seems like the wireless signal is weak in your room. I will get that fixed right away, sir.”

Tonio waits a few minutes before heading down to the lobby with his laptop computer. “Pardon me, miss, but would you happen to have the Wi-Fi password?”

Julie replies, “I’m sorry, sir, the wireless network is out of service here in the inn. If you would like to connect to the Internet, you can use one of the computers next door. They are free of charge for customers at the inn.”

“I really do need to use this specific laptop for business though.”

“That’s fine, you can plug the Ethernet cable into your laptop next door as well.”

“Thank you.” Tonio’s laptop is government-issued and provides encrypted connection so he can access government servers back in Sotanabeltz.

He sets himself up at one of the empty workstations and plugs in as Julie said. As he waits for his system to boot up, he sees Gio out of the corner of his eye working on the server. Tonio logs onto the government network back home and begins to check any missed emails from the day. He opens an email from Smit with the subject [Ibiza Investigation].

Layarteb is investigating incident. Coming up with contingency plan to deal with fallout. Will keep you two posted.

As soon as he finishes reading the email, his laptop suddenly turns off, as do all the other computers in the café. He looks up and sees that the server Gio had been working on was also powered down. There is a collective groan from the customers present while Marie rushes over to Gio in the server closet.

Tonio overhears Marie and Gio trying to get to the bottom of this situation, but after a few minutes, Marie rushes out towards the inn. Within seconds, she is back with Julie, who says to the customers, “I’m sorry, but the café will have to be closed for the rest of the day until we can resolve this technical difficulty.”

The customers are not happy with the announcement at all, though given what some of them were doing on the computers, Tonio cannot be sympathetic to them in the slightest.

“Sir,” Julie says to Tonio in English, “the café will have to close for the day. If you would like, I can show you some other places in the area that has wireless service. The inn will reimburse you for any related expenses.”

“Thank you, miss, but maybe it’s a sign that I should enjoy some time off from work.” He takes his laptop and leaves Gio to figure out what just happened.

Gio stands in the now-perfectly quiet closet with the usual hum of the server silenced. He takes out his mobile and rings Tonio.

“Hey,” Tonio says as he gets back to his room, “what did you do?”

“It wasn’t me, Tonio. I was digging into files on the server when this happened.”

“Damn. How much do you think this is going to set us back?”

“I can’t say for sure. Gimme an hour to try to get the server back up and running and then I’ll assess any potential damage. If I can’t get the server up in an hour, we might have hit a road block.”

“Let’s hope to God, then, that you get that server up soon.”

2015-03-04 16:58+01
[Location Unknown]

Three computer screens set one next to another on a desk in a flat shows three different sets of data. One screen shows in red letters: SECURITY BREACHED. CONTAINMENT INITIATED while the computer emits a patterned beeping sound.

Yamin comes in from the other room and looks at the new message. He scrolls through the data looking for something. He stops to look at a line of data and types in several commands.

He lets out a smile with the left half of his mouth. “That’s it. Come to daddy.”

2015-03-06 19:13+00
[Choum, Birean Empire]

A group of seven soldiers walk along the railroad tracks at dusk through Birean territory, having parachuted into Dalmasca an hour earlier. The suffocating air was still and the heaviness of the hot desert hangs there. This small border town is where intelligence has suggested Agent Gorski was last seen a couple days ago. The search over the past two weeks had not been easy given the isolated nature of the Birean Empire.

As the foreign men enter the town, the local people stare at how strange they appear and move out of their way. They approach a small shack where intel indicated Gorski had been staying, but from the look of the broken door, nobody is living there anymore. Nevertheless, the men enter the hovel. As soon as the stench of rotting flesh hit them, they see a mutilated, bloody, naked body lying on the ground.

One of the soldiers says into his mobile communicator, “Command, we found and positively ID’d Maragnonium. He's dead.”

[Pontificius]

2015-03-07 07:15+01
[Avignon, Kingdom of Holland]

Gio breathes heavily as he comes to the end of his morning jog, running up the remnants of the Pont d’Avignon. He relishes in the light of the rising sun as a welcomed contrast to the freezing, damp air around him. As he slows down and begins to walk around, he notices a man dressed in a dark overcoat, holding a steaming cup of coffee looking out over the Rhone. He already knows without seeing the man’s face that this is Tonio, who is standing there for their pre-planned check-in.

Tonio continues looking out on the river as Gio leans against the railing with his back next to him.

“Word from Smit that the team found Gorski, tortured and dead, last night,” Gio says sombrely.

“Shit,” Tonio mutters under his breath, “Did he say how we plan to respond?”

“The response won’t be a public one, unless the Bireans escalate, which nobody thinks they will do. A funeral is planned for Monday.”

“We’re gonna have to step up our progress out here, Gio.”

“With the limited resources we have, that’s going to prove difficult. I told Smit that I think we need to bring in the Dutch to help us. Smit doesn’t want to involve the Dutch at this point.”

“Did you tell him that we’ve basically hit a dead end here? I mean, we’ve been here for five days now, I’ve tapped into all the surveillance cameras around the inn within a five-mile radius, we’ve got a team combing through all the footage dating back three months, not to mention that you’ve been working on that damn server at the café, and we have no new leads!” Tonio pauses for a second to breathe in the freezing morning air to calm down.

“I just feel like there is something that we’re overlooking here,” Gio says reassuringly. “I just don’t think someone could just disappear into thin air. We’ve all gone through the same training, but we are all human. At some point, he’s going to slip up and we’ll be there to catch it.”

Tonio silently sips some of his coffee.

“Maybe we just need to take a day or so to clear our heads,” Gio suggests. “You know, take a break? Hopefully, we’ll come back to this Monday morning with fresh eyes.”

Tonio smiles. “That’s a good idea. Speaking of good ideas, have you thought about going out with Julie?”

Gio glares at him. “That would be a bit unprofessional, don’t you think?”

“Of course not! Think about it, you two don’t technically work together, you’ve got a cover, there are no lines being crossed here, Gio. Plus, she’s definitely into you.”

“Even if that is true, when I said we need to clear our heads, I meant taking a hike or exploring the city.”

“You can do all that with her too, and, maybe if you’re lucky, she might be able to help you clear out something else too.”

Gio smirks. “Tonio, you are too much sometimes.”

“Hey, that’s why you keep me around, right?”

“Often contrary to my better judgments, my friend.” Gio stretches a bit and then resumes his morning jog.

2015-Mar-09 11:23+01
[City of Manresa, Sotanabeltz]

A couple dozen people, formally dressed in black, stand inside one of the columbaria at a military cemetery. Usually the military buries the bodies of soldiers in a grave, but in instances where the body is too disfigured as in Gorski’s case, the custom is to cremate the remains. Pieter Smit stands next to an older couple directly next to the urn. The golden blonde hair that the man shared with his deceased son had long turned to grey, but the bright blue eyes of the woman now seems to glisten even brighter for her son.

The priest, dressed in vestments of violet, stands on the other side of the urn from Smit and Mr. and MRs. Gorski and, with his arms outstretched over the people gathered, says, “Merciful Lord, you know the anguish of the sorrowful, you are attentive to the prayers of the humble. Hear your people who cry to you in their need, and strengthen their hope in your lasting goodness. We ask this through Christ our Lord.”

The people respond, “Amen.”

The priest looks to the urn and says, “Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace, and may his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.”

The people respond, “Amen.”

The priest, once again looking at the people gathered, says, “May the peace of God, which is beyond all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and may almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

After he blesses the people with the sign of the Cross, the people respond, “Amen.”

“Go in the peace of Christ,” he concludes.

“Thanks be to God,” the people reply instinctively.

As the mourners depart, many pass by the parents of Agent Gorski and console them one final time today with kind words, hugs and kisses. Smit stands off to the side to allow them to be supported by their family members and friends. When everyone else had departed, the parents approach Smit.

Mr. Gorski says, holding back tears, “Caballero Cadete Smit, thank you for being here today. Seeing you and Max’s fellow soldiers really meant a lot to us.”

“Maksym was a great soldier and I know that everyone here would echo that sentiment,” Smit says. “I just wish we could have expressed that to you under better circumstances.”

Mrs. Gorski says to him while tears continue down her face. “But really, Caballero Cadete, we are truly appreciative and grateful for you all being here. We have known that Maksym was a homosexual for a few years now, and were never sure how it would affect his career, but we never stopped loving him and treating him like we always have. So for there to have been government officials here today, at his funeral…” She doesn’t complete her sentence before bursting into tears.

Smit puts a hand on her left shoulder. “Mr. and Mrs. Gorski, we came today for that very same reason: none of us would have treated him any differently. We all remember him for the person we knew him to be, and we all proudly still call him our brother. He served our country and our God well; it was an honour for us to have been able to send him off with you today.”

2015-Mar-11 11:49+01
[Avignon, Kingdom of Holland]

Gio exits the server room and walks towards the door that leads to the inn. As he stands in the little alley between the two buildings, he pauses to think about what Tonio said to him about Julie. “Okay, yes, it’s been a while since I last gave myself permission to be in a relationship,” he thinks, “and you have been working a lot recently, but let’s be clear about this. This cannot be an actual long-term romantic relationship, so you cannot lead her along. This is purely having dinner and hanging out. That’s it, nothing else.”

He opens the door and enters the lobby of the inn, where luckily there is nobody else around besides Julie standing behind the counter. “Ms. Bourdon,” Gio says to get her attention, “I’m going to take my lunch break now.”

She looks at him a bit confused as to why he was telling her this. “Okay…have a good lunch.”

He wants to roll his eyes at himself, but instead walks up to the counter. “Also, I was wondering if you want to grab dinner with me some time.”

She doesn’t know what to say for a second, but then asks, “You presume I’m not already in a relationship?” On the inside, Julie is kicking herself for choosing to say those words instead of finding a more suitable response.

Gio knows from several indicators during his training on reading people that while she is very attractive, she does not seem to be in a relationship currently.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “that’s not what I meant to say.”

“You’re not currently seeing someone, are you?” Gio asks, sounding both unsure and hoping she wouldn’t be.

“No, in fact, I am not,” Julie replies. “I am busy tonight, but I would be available to join you for dinner tomorrow evening.

“Wonderful, how about I come by around 7:15?”

“That would be good. I’m looking forward to it.”

2015-Mar-12 20:06+01
[Avignon, Kingdom of Holland]

Julie and Gio sit at a small table, with an elegant setting, with their freshly-made dinners before them. Julie’s earrings catch the light and for a moment distracts from her nice, but modest, dress. Gio pauses for a moment and prays silently before starting his meal.

Gio looks up and smiles at Julie, who is staring back at him, “What is it?”

“I didn’t know you were a religious man, Gio.”

“Yes, I am. My family has been Catholic for as long as we know. How about you?”

“I was raised a Catholic as well,” Julie replies, “but my family was never too interested in religious practices. Speaking of interests, what got you interested in computers?”

Obviously, he could not tell her the truth: that he did not know what a computer was until he joined the military. Naturally, Gio had his background story developed. “As a child, I was very much into computer games. I’d get back home from school and play them for hours until supper. My parents would scold me and rightly so. As I got older and thought about what I wanted to do, I thought why not work with computers? It’s like learning a completely foreign language, and unlike a human being that can guess what you’re saying even if you speak incorrectly. A computer only understands what you tell it in its own language. It cannot guess what you mean to say. I find the challenge thrilling.”

“Well it seems like the server in the café is providing you quite the thrill,” Julie says with a smirk. Gio picks up on the rejoinder and lets out a nervous chuckle.

“What about you, Julie, how did you get involved with this inn and internet café?”

Julie laughs. “The two were actually separate businesses until about five months ago. The inn has been my family’s business since the days of Napoleon, and I started running the inn when my father passed away in a car accident.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Julie,” Gio says, not expecting that twist in the story.

“It was definitely hard for me, especially after losing my mother and older brother in the Cottish Flu Pandemic. A couple years after my father passed away, I thought that I was going to have to close the inn, but with the help of the owner of the internet café next door and some investors, I was able to keep the inn going. Now, it’s doing pretty well.”

“That’s amazing! Was the owner at the time also Otto Carlos?”

“No, there were always changes in ownership of the café, and Otto was just the most recent. He came here I think in August last year. My boyfriend at the time, Eugene, was working there, so that’s how we met.”

Gio raises his glass of wine and says, “Well, here’s to you and your businesses, may they continue to grow in years to come.”

“Cheers,” Julie says, raising her glass with gratitude for the nice gesture.

2015-Mar-12 21:57+01
[Avignon, Kingdom of Holland]

Julie and Gio walk into the dimly-lit lobby of the inn. She says, as she turns on more lights, “Sorry for making you stop by the inn. I got a text after dinner from a customer coming in tomorrow with a group, and she needed me to double-check some details. I promise it won’t take long.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” Gio says as he looks around the room. He is immediately drawn again to the pictures hanging on the wall. He notices that the picture missing from last week has been replaced. It is a picture of Julie herself, standing in the lobby of this very inn, smiling proudly. Next to her, with one arm around her shoulders, is a taller man with glasses, who looks a few years older than Gio himself.

“I see you fixed the frame of the missing picture,” Gio says turning to face her.

“Oh yeah, it was an easy fix,” she says still staring down at the console in front of her.

“Who is the guy standing next to you?”

“That’s Eugene, my ex-boyfriend.”

“What happened between the two of you?” Gio asks, hoping it’s not too personal of a question.

“He found a job elsewhere and didn’t want to do a long-term relationship, so we ended it back in October.”

However, someone else in the background of the picture catches his attention. His eyes widen as he recognises the face. He takes the picture off the wall and quickly brings it over to Julie. He points to the man in the background. “Julie, have you ever seen this man before?”

Julie looks up slightly alarmed at his urgent tone. “Yes, of course, that’s Otto Carlos, the owner of the café next door.”

Gio looks at the picture again. He recognises him without a shadow of a doubt, not as Otto Carlos, but as Yamin Tyburn.

[Layarteb]

March 1, 2015 - 03:00 hrs [UTC+1]
Siesta, Ibiza
Residence of Joseph V. Midgett
(38° 58' 16" N, 1° 31' 40" E)

Martha and Andrew had only just emerged from the upstairs attic twenty minutes earlier. Retrieving the laptop in the attic had been particularly difficult thanks largely to the damage caused by the explosion. Now, sitting in the downstairs living room, surrounded by the remnants of the party, the two looked at the charred remains of the laptop and knew they needed more help. "This thing is fried," Martha commented. "I think we should bag it and get it to the National Crime Lab. I think if we try to screw with it we'll just ruin it."

"You want to involve the FJA? We don't even know if this thing has anything on it."

"Like hell we don't," Martha stood up and instructed an officer to bag the evidence. "The explosion in that room was set to destroy whoever was sitting at the desk at the time and that means if they were on their laptop, which leads me to believe that the laptop was to be destroyed as well. That it survived is something amazing. I want to know what's on it."

"All right partner," Andrew had nothing else to say. The logic was sound; he just didn't want to involve the FJA. Removing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he put one in his mouth and lit it, breathing in the cancerous smoke.

Just then a patrolman popped his head into the room and looked at both of them, "Inspectors, I think you're going to want to see this. Paramedics have a guy outside that's not wearing clothes," the patrolman began. This wasn't unusual, three-quarters of the partygoers were naked or wearing nothing more than a speedo, "He says he was knocked out before the explosion and when he woke up his clothes were gone."

"Who is he?" The two inspectors began to follow.

"Says he's part of the catering staff."

"Okay let's see what he has to say," Martha followed just behind the patrolman while Andrew lagged a few feet behind, surveying the scene in his head. Ibiza was the place where Layartebians and foreigners came to enjoy a relaxed atmosphere. Drugs were legal, prostitution was legal, and you could do just about anything you wanted to so long as you didn't harm anyone else. Most of the crimes reported came from tourists who'd been pickpocketed or mugged. The counterterrorism unit had been established only because of those legalized vices. Politicians feared that the legalization of such vices would bring a hardened criminal type to Ibiza and with that the potential for terrorist-level violence. Of course none of this had occurred, at least until now though the cause of this incident was as yet to be determined.

Andrew and Martha were two of just six members of the counterterrorism unit and the entire department wasn't built to investigate these kinds of crimes as efficiently as those elsewhere. Martha's suggestion to send the computer to the National Crime Lab made sense and Andrew thought it over as he realized how foolish he'd been moments earlier suggesting that they not waive their jurisdiction. They had no jurisdiction here; this was a crime that would transcend Ibiza's borders so fast they wouldn't be able to move out of the way in time. Now outside, he finished his cigarette and stamped it out with his foot as he came around to the rear of the ambulance where a mostly naked man - he'd been left with his underwear and shoes at least - was sitting on a stretcher in the ambulance with an icepack on his head and a blanket wrapped around his body.

"I'm Martha Beal and this is Andrew Mastropietro, we're inspectors with the counterterrorism unit. You want to recount for me what happened?"

"Yeah sure," the man said.

"Well first what's your name?"

"Jan Edwards."

"Where are you from Jan?"

"I'm from Philadelphia."

"And you're a caterer?"

"I work as a waiter for Dennis Catering. We mostly do private parties and weddings. I've worked there about two years, since I got out here."

"Why'd you come to Ibiza?"

"Couldn't find a job that I liked back at home."

"Do you like being a waiter?"

"No but I like Ibiza."

"Okay fine that's suitable. Tell me now then what happened?"

"Well I came out here for a cigarette. I couldn't have been out here more than ten seconds; I didn't even get my smoke lit. The next thing I know something pinches me here on my neck and I felt woozy," he pointed to a contusion on his neck. The paramedic had already bandaged it up prior to their arrival. "I don't know how long I was out of it but when I woke up there were fire trucks and ambulances and police cars here."

"What time did you come out to smoke?"

"Quarter to ten maybe," he wasn't fully sure. "I think it was around then, I don't know."

"Explosion happened around 22:00," Andrew chimed in, "and it's 03:10 now. Did you check in with your supervisor?"

"Yeah about five minutes ago."

"So you don't remember anything else?"

"Nothing, sorry," Jan replied.

"Well I'm guessing you're going to the hospital?" The paramedic nodded, "We'll be in touch Jan." Outside, the paramedic shut the doors and began walking to the cab but Martha stopped him. "Are you going to test his blood?"

"Definitely ma'am."

"Let the doctors know that he's a person of interest."

"Will do ma'am," the paramedic popped into the driver's seat and within seconds, the ambulance quietly pulled away and began its trip to the island's main hospital.

"Well that's something. I'm thinking that our bomber was dressed as a caterer."

"Me too, let's get statements from every single person here and find out who saw what. There's a lot of men here but we've got enough officers. Let's just round them up and tell them what to look for," Martha said with a smile now that she had a real lead rather than a charred, half-destroyed laptop.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

March 3, 2015 - 07:00 hrs [UTC+1]
Ibiza, Ibiza
Ibiza Police Headquarters
(38° 54' 29" N, 1° 25' 15" E)

Andrew plopped down at his cubicle and immediately pulled the lid off of his coffee and took a big gulp. It had been a long two days and it promised to be longer as he looked at his inbox where a stack of folders were sitting. Martha entered her adjacent cubicle a minute later and smiled, "Morning Andrew, is that big stack the statements?"

"Seems to be," Andrew said pulling the top folder off of the stack. "There's got to be a hundred here?"

"If we're lucky there's one hundred and eighty-nine. That's how many people were at that party. Well one hundred and ninety were there but we're missing our bomber."

"It's too early to read these."

"Better start now otherwise we won't be finished until summer," Martha reached her hand out and Andrew happily obliged by putting half of the stack, insofar as he could measure with his eye, in her hand. "Somewhere in here has to be a statement about a caterer who doesn't fit the bill. What are the odds our bomber was the same size as the caterer?"

"No idea but what I do know is that we'll get the bloodwork results today." Andrew was particularly pleased with that tidbit. When he spoke to the hospital on Sunday morning he'd been informed that due to privacy regulations, the bloodwork results would not be made available unless the police had a warrant. Eight hours later a warrant was hand delivered to the hospital naming the caterer as a person of interest in a terrorist incident. The inspector who delivered it mentioned that any attempt to conceal the information would be considered impeding a national investigation on a terrorist incident. Compliance was mandatory and the lab had no further hindrances to make.

"Well that can go either way. He's either lying to us and his bloodwork won't show anything or he's a drug addict who shoots up through his neck." The paramedic had told them afterwards that the wound on the caterer's neck had been made from a needle but it had been delivered with considerable force. He suggested a tranquilizer dart though it had been difficult to say it with a straight face. Martha didn't understand the humor behind it though. If he'd been forcibly knocked unconscious with some sort of sedative it would have shown up in his blood.

"Speaking of things," Andrew said as he turned on his computer, "you should call the NCL and find out if they have receipt of the laptop."

"They do," Martha said reading her computer. "E-mail confirmation and evidently it's in the lands of Lisa Daniels, she's a senior analyst. I'll give her a call in a few hours when they wake up on that side of the planet." It was just after 07:00 in Ibiza, which meant it was barely past 01:00 in Layarteb City, six hours behind. In the meantime, the two inspectors began working on the statements. In another hour they would have another pair of hands to help and by noon all six inspectors of the counterterrorism unit would be combing through the pile looking for any statement that would give them an indication of where they might go next. That break would come eventually but it would take nine hours of reading first.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

March 3, 2015 - 21:00 hrs [UTC+1]
Ibiza, Ibiza
Ibiza Police Headquarters
(38° 54' 29" N, 1° 25' 15" E)

"Tatiano Barela," Martha said, suppressing a yawn. She was looking through the two-way mirror into the interrogation room as a very flamboyant man, barely twenty-two years old, sat in the chair sipping at a Coca-Cola. "He mentioned something pretty interesting in his statement." She said for the benefit of the unit's boss, Chief Inspector Scott Crew who was standing next to her. In another moment, Andrew entered the room and took a seat, the statement in his hand. "He said that he'd see a caterer walking around in clothes that were too tight that he thought it was just a costume."

"Good evening Tatiano," Andrew's voice came over the speakers.

"Am I under arrest?"

"No you are not; in fact we think you could be helpful to us as a witness."

"A witness?"

"Yes Tatiano," Andrew put the statement on the table and passed it to him. "This is your statement from Sunday morning after the explosion. Do you recall giving it?" He looked at his words put to paper and read them. His body grew tense and he nodded. "Traumatic night. How are you keeping?"

"I haven't slept."

"It looks it. Did you talk to any psychologist? We provided everyone with information, did you get one?"

"I got the card but what am I going to say?"

"An event like the one that occurred that evening is traumatic, especially to the people physically there. You were within meters of the room were you not? You told the officer you were using the bathroom."

"I was."

"Go through the last ten minutes for me. Before the bombing, do those words jog your memory some?"

"They do. I…" He held back a moment.

"Unless you're an accessory to this crime and nothing about you speaks accomplice, nothing you say will be used against you in a court of law. As I said, you are a witness and not a suspect."

"Well then fine," Tatiano said after a moment. He brushed away his purple hair and began to retell the story. He'd been looking for some cocaine when he saw the caterer in question walking around with a tray of drinks. However what caught his attention was that the man was wearing clothes that were obviously too tight. They were the catering uniforms that the caterers wore but because it was so tight he assumed the man wore it as a costume so he hit on him only to be rebuffed. Tatiano, not one to accept that sort of treatment, followed him upstairs hoping to entice him further. He saw the caterer go into the office, which was forbidden and he quickly made his way to the bathroom instead, hoping to ambush the caterer when he exited. Minutes later the bomb went off and Tatiano hid in the bathtub until firemen found him and pulled him safely outside.

"Can you identify him if you saw him?"

"I think I can."

"Good, we want to go over some footage with you then. You know that the owner of the house had CCTV all over the place?"

"I know," Tatiano said as he stood up, "he's a voyeur. He likes to watch the parties online and see us humping one another."

In the observation room Martha quickly turned to the boss, "Someone saw our man go into the office."

"Maybe he isn't the bomber after all but the target."

"Whoever he is let's hope this guy fingers him fast."

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

March 4, 2015 - 09:30 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
National Crime Lab
(40° 42' 47" N, 74° 0' 36" W)

Lisa Daniels looked at the workbench in her laboratory and shrugged. The decimated laptop had been disassembled and its memory chips and hard drive removed. No trace of a bomb was found inside of the computer but it tested positive for explosive residue meaning it was in close proximity to the bomb. It was however not on the tabletop meaning it was not in use at the time of the explosion. The force of the explosion had severely damaged the laptop but the hard drive and its memory chips were intact. More to the point, the battery had not separated from the device meaning it never lost power though the explosion did cause it to glitch severely.

Sitting down in her chair, she turned on her computer and opened her e-mail. Reading a phone number, she dialed and waited for the phone to ring some 3,884 miles away. "Beal, Ibiza CTU."

"Inspector Beal, this is Lisa Daniels from the National Crime Lab. I'm calling about the laptop you sent me."

"Ah Lisa, thank you for returning my call."

"Sorry I did not get back to you yesterday, I was wrapped up in another assignment. I have your laptop here disassembled and my preliminary findings are that the laptop was in close proximity to the explosion but not in personal use at the time. It was however in use in that it was turned on but that is as far as I have gotten. The hard drive is encrypted and we're working to decrypt it now. Luckily it was a solid-state device so the shock of the explosion did not damage the data. We scanned the memory chips as well and we have some information from what was going on at the time but we don't have a full picture yet."

"How long?"

"It's hard to say. Sometimes we can decrypt in a matter of hours sometimes it takes a few days."

"Okay, anything else you can tell me?"

"Not right now." Lisa hung up a moment later and looked around the lab. She wasn't an actual agent with the Federal Justice Agency. She was a civilian employee, a tech wizard who'd graduated with a degree in computer science. However, her real strength lay in the fact that she'd been working with computers since she was a child and during her rebellious teenage and collegiate years she'd done a fair bit of illicit hacking. She parlayed that into a career with the FJA but technology was advancing rapidly and though she was only thirty-six she worried that she would be left behind in five or so years, unable to keep current with the latest technological trends. She wondered what her future would be since she was single, not dating, and extremely averse to long-term commitments.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

March 4, 2015 - 16:00 hrs [UTC+1]
Ibiza, Ibiza
Ibiza Police Headquarters
(38° 54' 29" N, 1° 25' 15" E)

Martha put down the phone and looked at Andrew, summarizing what Lisa had told her. "So we've got a suspect with a face but without a name and potential progress on the laptop." The cameras didn't show much after the explosion. The server had been located in a closet underneath the office, locked and secured. The explosion however caused the server to power down and so everything from the moment of the explosion onward was lost. The cameras went dead and the man the police sought made his escape without being seen. Much to the inspectors' dismay there weren't any public cameras around that particular area though there were some in the city. Other officers were scanning them now for any possibly glimpse of their suspect but they weren't getting very far.

"The boss is pretty serious about this one," Martha said. "It looks like this is one of those make or break cases. If we falter he's replaced and if we do well he's promoted. That kind of deal."

"Well let's do well then," Andrew answered.

[Pontificius]

2015-Mar-12 22:03+01
[Avignon, Kingdom of Holland]

The expression on Julie’s face turns to one of concern as she asks, “Gio, is something wrong?”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Back in October,” Julie replies a bit flustered. “Gio, do you know him? What’s going on?”

Gio sighs. “Julie, it’s hard to explain…”

She takes a step back and asks with a hint of fear, “Who are you?”

“What I can say is that there has been suspicious activity coming from the internet café next door, and I am trying to get to the bottom of why that is. Don’t worry, I’m on your side, but I need your help.” Gio looks her in the eye. After he feels like she has lowered her guard a little bit, he asks, “Can you help me?”

Julie cautiously relaxes her shoulders and asks, “What do you need to know?”

Gio motions to the couches in the lobby. “Let’s sit for this.”

The two sit separately on the couches there, and feeling more comfortable, Gio asks, “You said you saw him back in October, but have you talked to him since then?”

Julie says, “Well, I hadn’t heard from him in months, but then about two weeks ago, he called to check-in on business at the café.”

“Do you remember the date and about what time of day he called?”

“Yes, I remember, because it was an odd time to make a business call. It was Saturday late in the evening, maybe between 9-10.”

“Exactly around the time of the Ibiza incident,” Gio thinks. He continues questioning her, “Was there anything about what he said that seemed strange?”

“At first, he spent a couple minutes asking about how business was going in general. Then he asked me to check on the server room, so I did as he had asked. I thought it was strange that the computer screen in the server was awake, because it shouldn’t have been after hours, but I figured it must have woken up to update or something. I don’t know too much beyond the basics of how computers and servers work. When I told him that, he asked me to input some data to ensure that the server was functioning correctly, so I did.”

“Do you remember what he asked you to input?”

“No, I just did as he said. I didn’t understand what the commands were doing, but apparently it worked, because the server went back to sleep afterwards.”

“And there was nobody else there that evening?”

“No, it was just me.”

“Do you know where Otto is now?”

“I asked him, but he avoided a direct answer. Is he in trouble with the law?”

“I shouldn’t answer that question, and it’d be better if you don’t mention this talk we had tonight. I’m sorry that our evening took a turn down this path, but I actually did enjoy our dinner. Unfortunately, I have to go.”

As Gio heads out the door, he dials Smit’s number to update him on the situation. It cannot wait until the morning.

2015-Mar-17 19:26+01
[Peio Gondra International Airport, Sotanabeltz]

Milán Blaszczak stands in silence next to Fito Nikola as they both stare out the floor-to-ceiling window eastward. With the sun having set, they could only make out incoming aircraft as dots of light. The lounge they are waiting in is secured outside by plain-clothed security, not wanting to raise the attention of civilians in the airport. The two know how much they have had to shield this whole debacle from the Sotanabeltzan people, which has been possible thanks to the relative scarcity of technology connecting the populace with the international community. Both look forward to putting this diplomatic incident behind them, but both also know that it is not over until they see the faces of the two men returning home.

Blaszczak looks at his watch as an aircraft descends towards the runway. He could feel his shoulders tense up a little as the aircraft skids down the runway, straining his eyes to catch a glance at the flag emblazoned on the tail.

His face drops when he sees that it is not the aircraft they are waiting for. It should have been landing right now, and the fact that it did not leads him to run through some possibilities that cause him to worry. Suddenly his mobile rings. He sees that it’s from the control tower.

“Tell me you have good news,” he says automatically upon answering.

“Yes sir,” the voice on the other side replies. “Our two fighter jets have intercepted the aircraft and are escorting it to the base now. ETA two minutes.”

Blaszczak lets out a sigh of relief. Each second that passes, he swears he could hear the sound of the second hand on his watch move.

Then the two men see another light approaching in the sky, this time they make out the faint silhouette of two smaller aircraft, one on each side. The main aircraft grows larger as it approaches the runway and as it makes contact with the tarmac, the two fighter jets screech past the airport at a low altitude, causing the people in the terminal to look out the window, though they do not see the jets fly by in the darkness of nightfall.

Almost as soon as the doors open to the boarding steps, two men are seen descending them as uniformed men escort them from the aircraft to the terminal away from prying eyes. As the doors to the private lounge open, Nikola and Blaszczak recognise their faces. These are the same faces they have gotten familiar with over the past few weeks negotiating their release.

Nikola is the first to open his arms to embrace the two men. “Brigada Baker, Suboficial Mayor Sharif, welcome home.”

2015-Mar-18 08:56+01
[City of Manresa, Sotanabeltz]

Tonio walks into the office to find Gio already at his desk. Both of them at some level wish they took a longer break from work, but the hope of finding Tyburn lured them back to the office to comb through hours of surveillance footage. “Good morning, Gio, you heard the news from last night?”
“Yeah! Thank God they made it back. It sure lightens the stress a bit, doesn’t it?” Gio asks while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Definitely. Speaking of which, how’s the search coming?”

“I just expanded the search radius from 200 km to 300 km, which means we know he was not in Montpellier, Nice, or Marseille during October or November.”

Tonio, wrinkling his forehead in concern, asks, “You don’t think he left France and headed into Italy or Switzerland, do you?”

Gio shakes his head. “No, intel says that he is more likely to have connections in France where his French would be more useful. He might have gone to Switzerland, but that leaves him with fewer options in terms of escaping capture. It’s much easier to hide in France.”

No sooner had he said that when the computer starts to beep, indicating a potential facial recognition match. Gio looks at the pixelated image and the time stamp. “October 5, which fits the timeline of Julie’s story. It’s taken from a security camera at Lyon Anglican.”

Tonio squints at the picture. “Damn, this is pretty bad quality. Do you think we can catch his face on a street cam? Quality would be way better.”

“I can keep running the search, but in the meantime, I say we submit this to forensics to see if they can clean it up while we pay a visit to Lyon.”

2015-Mar-18 16:16+01
[Lyon, Kingdom of Holland]

The small parking area in front of the church is completely empty in the middle of the week. Tonio and Gio step out of the car into a warm spring afternoon, scoping out the entrance of the building for signs of the security camera that caught the footage of a man possibly resembling Yamin. As they approach the entrance, they spot the camera with its red indicator light still on. Tonio attempts to open the door, but it is locked. Gio points to a sign indicating the office is around the corner, so they walk in that direction, hoping that there is someone working today.

Fortunately, they see that the office is indeed open and when they enter, a young woman behind the receptionist desk greets them with a smile.

“Good day,” she says in French. “How may I help you?”

Gio replies in French as well, “We are looking for someone and are hoping maybe the rector could assist us in finding him.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I’m afraid we don’t. It shouldn’t take too long.”

The receptionist rings the rector and explains the situation. She then looks up and says to Gio and Tonio, “He will be with you in a minute.”

It is not too long before an older gentleman walks out from one of the offices and introduces himself as the rector of the church. Gio takes out a photo of Yamin and asks him if he has seen him before. The rector takes a couple seconds to think and ultimately says, “Yes, I briefly met this young man last fall here at the church. He said that he was on his way to Paris to visit his ailing father and needed some change for the petrol station. May I ask why you are asking?”

Gio responds with a hint of concern, “He is our friend and we have not heard from him in a few months. We’re just trying to track him down to see if he is okay.”

“I see. I wish I had more information to provide, but my interaction with him was very brief.”

“Was there anything else about him that you can remember that would help us?”

The rector paused for a second. “I was headed home for the evening when I came across him at the front door to the church. We had a brief conversation, I gave him some money and he headed back to his car where his friend was waiting.”

Gio looked at Tonio. “He was traveling with a friend? Do you remember what the friend looked like?”

“He was male, but beyond that I cannot quite recall. He was too far away and I didn’t think anything of it. Who did you say you were again?”

“Friends,” Gio replies coldly. “Thank you for your help, reverend.”

As the two walk towards the door, the rector says, “I said I would pray for him and his family…as they prepare for his father’s eventual passing. He said, ‘No need, father. God doesn’t care about what we want. He already has his mind made up. In the end, we have to make our own destinies.’” The rector pauses and sighs. “Very troubling, indeed. Sad, really. If you find your friend, let him know that God does care.”

Gio smiles and nods. As they approach their car parked in front of the church, Tonio says casually to Gio, “I wonder who his friend is and what he’s got to do with all this.”

“I think this is a good lead. The more people involved, the more likely we’ll be able to find something. I wonder if they met back in Avignon or if he picked him up somewhere along the way.”

“Well, at least we know he was planning to visit his dad in Paris. That makes it easier.”

“No it doesn’t. His father died when he was a teenager,” Gio says, even though both of them read the same file on Yamin. “Either he actually is in Paris, or my guess is that he stayed in Lyon just a bit longer than he let on. If we’re lucky, he’s still here.”