Night Brings the Hunter - Cover

Night Brings the Hunter

Copyright© 2016 by T. MaskedWriter

Chapter 8

“Well, I met a girl in West Hollywood, I ain’t namin’ names.
She really worked me over good, she was just like Jesse James.
She really worked me over good, she was a credit to her gender.
She put me through some changes, Lord, sort of like a Waring blender.”
-Warren Zevon, “Poor Poor Pitiful Me”

An old woman dressed entirely in black sat at an outdoor cafe in the San Finzione Marketplace, drinking her vino and watching the world go by; as she had for as long as anyone could remember. Some suspected that when the Sun exploded and the Earth crumbled to dust, the Yia-Yia would still be sitting at her table, continuing to drink her wine while floating through space and not thinking much of this new-fangled “void” thing.

Today seemed unusual to her. Not like that time a couple of months ago with the Americans; that had been amusing. People seemed sadder today. The waiter who’d refilled her glass had asked if she was all right. She sipped and didn’t understand why she wouldn’t be and dismissed the youngster with a wave of her hand. A few minutes later, she recalled that he’d been wearing a black armband, but hadn’t connected it to anything. Once she’d noticed many other people passing her by wearing them, she’d started to wonder.

She looked up into the sky. A group of fighter planes flew overhead, followed by two other airplanes descending from the clouds; a large passenger jet and a smaller jet behind it. It was an unusual sight, but she’d never been on an airplane, nor was she ever going to be, so not worth thinking about. As she returned her gaze to street level, she noticed that flags had been flying at half-staff and made the connection: Oh, dear, someone important had died. Well, good thing she was already wearing black.

These days, she couldn’t hear much that people around her said and cared about even less of it, however, one word kept repeating from the din of the café’s patrons and the passers-by: “Contessa.” Was that who died? She thought she’d met a Contessa once. Seemed like such a nice girl. She hoped it wasn’t her.

Whichever one it was, she hadn’t seen people this unhappy since the day the tanks rolled through the Marketplace so many years ago, but that sadness had changed to joy when tanks later rolled through in the opposite direction. She couldn’t recall if they’d been the same tanks or not, but everyone was happy about it the second time. This was more like the first one.

She considered going to find a newspaper and finding out more about what had happened when the waiter came and refilled her glass.

Yeah, why change a good thing now?


The 747 was parked on the tarmac when San Finzione One landed. A red carpet was rolled up to the stairs and the press gathered as workers unloaded three coffins, each covered with the flag of San Finzione, from the 747. The coffin unloaded first also had a wreath of Julie Andrews Roses lying atop it, La Contessa’s favorite flower. A fourth coffin which carried no flag was unloaded and hauled away by la policia.

Generalissimo Armando Santori stood dressed in his best formal uniform at a podium covered with microphones in front of reporters and cameras, a black armband on his left arm. He stuck a finger beneath his sunglasses, wiping away an imaginary tear as the men of San Finzione’s Squadra de Ultimados wheeled two of the coffins to either side of the podium and the one with the wreath in front, where the cameras could get good footage. Capitano Ramirez, leader of the Ultimados, followed the other two coffins to the podium and stood at attention and behind him, saluting La Contessa’s coffin.

The door of San Finzione One opened and Lady Maria Louisa Francesca de San Finzione emerged, dressed in black and wearing a veiled hat. The Generalissimo grimly walked to the carpet and up to the door to help the next Contessa down the stairs, doing his best to appear sympathetic. A few steps behind Lady Maria, her boyfriend emerged; a muscular young man wearing sunglasses over a brightly-bruised face who’d somehow been squeezed into a black suit. He gave the Generalissimo a look that suggested that his offered arm was not needed. Santori’s arm retreated and he gave a tiny smile. The boy would be out of the way soon enough.

On the other side of the world, a young American couple stared at their television, tears rolling down the woman’s cheeks as they watched the Generalissimo return to the podium and Maria and Stavro took places behind him on the other side from Ramirez. The man had his right arm around her and fought off tears of his own as he held her hand with his left and a second woman sat on her right side and did the same. She hadn’t shed any tears, but her expression conveyed her sadness to the other two as they all watched and listened to the Generalissimo.

“It is my sad duty to inform the world that our beloved Contessa Helena de San Finzione was brutally murdered at the hands of the criminal warlord David Igazi in the People’s Democratic Republic of Uongo two days ago. While attempting to engage in peaceful negotiations with this murderous thug for the release of our beloved Lady Maria de San Finzione, La Contessa was set upon by his lackeys and betrayed to her death. Fortunately, the men of San Finzione’s elite Squadra de Ultimados were able to rescue Lady Maria, and the villains met their own fate in the course of the rescue operation.”

“Interesting choice of words there, Armando, ‘betrayed to her death.’” A voice from the coffin in front of the podium spoke as the wreath of flowers fell off. Ramirez and Stavro moved forward to remove the flag respectfully before it fell as well and the lid opened.

Contessa Helena de San Finzione emerged from the coffin dressed in a long black dress. The two men helped her out. The Generalissimo was stunned, the press was stunned, and the three people watching on television on the other side of the world were stunned until the crying woman suddenly screamed “YOU FUCKING CUNT” at the television. Helena walked up to the podium and stood facing the Generalissimo, who’d started reaching for his sidearm before the sound of clacking bolts from the Ultimados’ MP5s, now trained on him, filled the air and he felt Ramirez’s sidearm poking him in the back. La Contessa spoke.

“Sorry, it was REALLY boring in there. I thought about going ‘Boo’ before emerging, but thought that would be tacky. Please continue, Armando. You were saying something about betrayal? Was it this?”

Helena held her phone up to the microphones and played an audio file.

“This was not the optimal outcome,” the Generalissimo’s voice spoke from the recording. “Igazi was not a target. But I can still use it. Killed negotiating with him, and we responded with an air strike, excellent. Be certain to retrieve her body. The people will demand a glorious funeral.” She stopped the recording.

“There’s some more about thanking someone for assassinating me, but we’ll talk about that later. Let’s get back to this betrayal thing of yours. The brave soldiers in the other two coffins, as well as a local civilian WERE betrayed to their deaths; by you, Armando. The men who WON’T be getting out of their coffins to make you answer for their murder were sworn to protect San Finzione; an oath you yourself took long ago. They upheld their oaths even as your conspirators butchered them to further your plot. And they WILL have justice. Don’t move.”

Helena knocked his hat and sunglasses from his head, then put her hands on his shoulders and ripped the stars from his uniform. Ramirez relieved him of his sidearm and put him in handcuffs.

“By order of La Contessa,” Ramirez said to him. “I place you under arrest, Signor Santori, for crimes against the people and government of San Finzione.”

La Contessa leaned forward and removed his ceremonial sword, whispering to him just softly enough for the microphones to barely pick up.

“Ghamoto mouni pou se petage.” She said, causing the man on the other side of the world and any other Greek-speakers watching to gasp then laugh. She stepped back, removed his sword from the sheath, and tried to break it over her knee a couple of times before handing it over to Stavro to do the job. He snapped it on the first try.

“Eh, I loosened it for you. Now, go along with them quietly, Armando,” she said, motioning to two of the Ultimados. Without a word, the former Generalissimo walked with the waiting soldiers into the back of a nearby black SUV. Helena turned back to the reporters and cameras.

“I apologize to everyone viewing for the theatrics. I am happy to have my great-granddaughter and her boyfriend home. We have all been away far too long. Now if you will excuse me, I have other matters that must be attended to. Much of what happened to us must remain classified; however, I’ll schedule an interview to explain everything that I am able soon.” She pulled the rest of the torn fabric from the stars in her hand and pinned them on Ramirez. “For now, my family and I would simply like to go home. I leave any further questions to the new supreme commander of San Finzione’s armed forces, Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez. Thank you for coming.”

Contessa Helena de San Finzione walked to a waiting limousine. Maria and Stavro followed. They drove away as Generalissimo Ramirez began to take the reporters’ questions.


“In other news,” said the anchorman. “Famed Russian chess grandmaster Garry Kasparov has been located after failing to arrive at a tournament in Brussels over the weekend. According to sources, he had been a guest at Castle Finzione when the recent crisis in Uongo unfolded, and owing to the classified nature of those events, agreed to be sequestered in the castle until the matter had been resolved. The grandmaster commented that La Contessa’s staff had been most courteous during his stay, stating quote ‘I was so pleased with La Contessa’s hospitality that I didn’t have the heart to remind her that one cannot castle out of check.’

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