Chapter 40: Narrow-Gauge

“I always thought Rome was a romantic city, at least when I visualized it in my head,” Tamara said, sipping strong, bitter coffee at an outdoor cafe a few miles from where she and Hannigan had escaped from the M1 facility largely by luck. After ditching the helicopter and the unconscious medical officer, they had found the small, gated compound largely silent in the night. The gate, if you could call it that, could be opened by hand, and together, the two fled south into the city to try to find a place to regroup and figure out what to do next. “Now, it’s just another stop on the Tamara and Hannigan Run For Their Lives Tour.”

“You seem to be forgetting about all the romance between priests and little boys going on in the Vatican right now...” Hannigan replied.

“Not funny,” Tamara scowled, thoughts of Finch and Logan, Lauren and Gene surfacing regularly, “I just thought I’d visit here one day and not have to assume that every person I see is trying to kill me or take me prisoner.”

“Not all of them want to do that,” Hannigan laughed, “only some.”

“Ha ha,” Tamara finished her coffee. “So we’re out of people to help us. Erol I left behind before Salzburg. Ingrid ... who knows what happened to her...”

“Ingrid?”

“Major Danielson.”

“Ah. Didn’t realize you two were on a first name basis.”

“It’s ... complicated.”

Hannigan chuckled, “Things usually are with you, Tamara. Regardless, we’re not completely out of options. When I learned about Victor and Haul coming to find you, I heard something else interesting.”

“Do tell...”

“Seems there’s a rumor that a big time player in this whole mess is not as dead as once thought. Bridgewater is alive, and the money seems to be on him being in Italy.”

“Bridgewater ... Holly’s father?”

Hannigan nodded.

“Where in Italy?”

The man shrugged, “Not sure.”

“Not much to go on, then...”

“No, but it’s a start.”

Tamara sat silently a moment, then asked, “Why are Haul and Victor working together? Chaster tried to kill him in Romania.”

Hannigan shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure they are working together. I just got information that they had honed in on your location and were coming for you in the night. In plugging back into a network I hadn’t accessed since I was M1 to try to track down my wife, I ran into an old ... acquaintance who had some interesting tidbits. Rather lucky I did,” he said, staring at Tamara.

She could see the weight of the world in the man’s eyes. He was bruised and sore, his face drooping, his red beard patchy and rough. His pale skin looked scorched in places, angry. He’d been willing to face imprisonment and torture to save her. Tamara wondered what Gene would feel when she told him that she’d come to love Marcus. She leaned forward and kissed Hannigan, “I’m rather lucky you took a liking to a naked, scared woman all those weeks ago...”

Marcus offered a week smile, “It is worth it...”

“Do you think they followed us to Rome?”

“Probably. Victor’s people won’t have missed that bird coming and going.”

“The we can’t linger...”

“No. Our next move is to see if my acquaintance can get us closer to Bridgewater, if he has indeed returned, and we head for him. Wherever Bridgewater wants to be right now, that’s where we want to be.”

“Why can’t we just go to him?” Finch asked as they waited in a bustling breakfast cafe on the outskirts of Genoa.

Henderson slammed back his coffee and ate the rest of his danish. “Because, dear boy, we wait for the green light. We’re close now. It won’t be much longer, I promise. Eat up, we may be moving soon.”

Finch nodded, feeling anxious. He’d learned just hours earlier that his father was in Genoa and that they were going to see him. It felt like years since they’d been separated at Victor’s mansion. He’d almost given up hope that his father was still alive.

The food was palatable but plastic in his mouth, his nerves and the weeks of running had made that part of each day less than satisfying. Finch longed to go somewhere safe, like the Henderson’s farm, where he could just escape and relax, especially if Lauren and Hannah would be there to let him play with their pussies. That thought brought a small smile to his face before he remembered his father again. So much had changed since he’d last seen the man. Finch wondered how he could tell him any of what had happened over that time.

There was still no news of his mother, and that worried him a lot. Since their split, it had been hard to learn anything about her whereabouts. Finch hoped that, maybe, she had managed to find her way to Genoa, as well, and would be waiting for them there.

“Alright,” Henderson proclaimed, “finish up. We’re heading for a hotel nearby to wait this out in five minutes. A good friend of mine will be meeting us there on a schedule, and she’s not keen on being kept waiting.”

Finch gobbled down the rest of his breakfast, felt his stomach jump at the man’s words, and tried to not worry too much about what was going to happen that day. He chuckled to himself. Every day since they’d started running had been a new experience, a new challenge. It seemed this day wouldn’t be so unusual.

The safe house in Genoa was little more than a rustic cottage set on a small rise and tucked into a forest of dense hardwoods which had likely been planted only in the last few decades, the trunks set in tight rows and carefully placed to give a sense of calm isolation.

Gene was anything but calm as he sat on the small deck on the backside of the house, trees shading the morning sunlight, coffee cup half-empty in his hand. He was alone for the moment. Bridgewater was locked in a room with his daughters, assumedly answering for why he’d let Holly think he was dead for a couple of years, and for why Anna seemed to know their father was alive and appeared to have helped engineer his untimely demise.

The rest of them were waiting to meet with a man named Oscar who was Bridgewater’s second. Gene would rather have been in with Holly to hear her father’s explanations, but it was a family matter as much as anything, so he waited behind when they’d gone into the bedroom together moments earlier.

A very short man wearing a dark, tight uniform, sporting a mustache and rich-tanned skin, came outside and said, “Everybody on me,” then stepped back into the house. Gene followed him inside. He saw Marisa, Bendal, and Silver there, as well as four other men and two women he had not yet met. “For those who don’t know me,” the man said, “call me Oscar. Right now, we’re in a fluid situation. Timing is everything. Plan right now is to hold here for no more than twelve hours, probably much less, then we move, destination to be decided. Questions?”

Gene looked around and when no one spoke, he said, “Any news of my family?”

“The good news is your children are on their way.”

Gene’s stomach jumped. “Thank God...”

“Less good news is we’re still not sure where your wife is. She was in Salzburg as of last night, but we’ve lost contact with her. We’re working on it.”

“Thank you!” Gene exclaimed, his thoughts full of hope for the first time in weeks.

“Shay?” a deep baritone voice called from behind him. Gene turned to see Bridgewater in the doorway to the bedroom. “We need to talk.”

Gene stepped inside the room and the tall man closed and locked the door. Bridgewater shook his hand, “Sorry we don’t have time for formals, but I have to say I’m happy to see you. This has been a wild chase to get you here.”