Chapter 44: Two Pops

Porto-Vecchio was not a terribly large city. It isn’t even really a city, Gene mused. A population of a few thousand in normal times, the seaside French village in southeast Corsica had little activity as Gene waited with Bridgewater in the treeline running along a lesser hill overlooking the south end of the town. They could see the main port, which also wasn’t much of a port, more of a terminal for ferries connecting from Italy to the east. Nothing moved out on the water, though numerous boats were at anchor in the protected harbor, an area surrounded on three sides by land, the Tyrrhenian Sea four or five miles from the terminal. Even as the daylight began to fade, it was clear that the town was either largely deserted or under curfew. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t all that unusual in the days since the world went crazy and Gene and his family started running for their lives.

Holly, Marisa, Bendal, and the two agents had gone scouting around Vecchio. It was delicate work, to be sure, and Gene knew that Victor’s teams were likely already closing in. They certainly had seen the chopper lift off from where they’d been earlier that day, and Bridgewater had let on that he suspected that at least one of Victor’s platoons was already in the town. So far, they hadn’t spotted anything interesting, but Bridgewater continued to scan the village below them with binoculars.

The man pressed a finger to the slim earpiece he wore, clearly listening to something coming across the wire. Gene felt anxious but resolved. They were here with a purpose and though there was still a lot of uncertainty, it was a nice change to the usual plan which typically consisted of getting the hell out of wherever they happened to be.

“News,” Bridgewater growled.

“Yes?”

“Utah’s on Corsica. Seems he got in not long after we arrived. He’s looking for your wife.”

“And you know this how?” Gene asked.

“I have ways.”

Gene scowled, “You don’t much care to reveal your ways, do you?”

“Don’t see the point. Regardless,” Bridgewater said as he brought the binoculars back to his eyes, “it means we’ve got a new complication.”

“I thought Utah was a known issue...”

“True, but there’s something else.” Bridgewater turned and looked at Gene with a serious expression, “Utah’s been tracking Tamara too easily. Victor has been going at it with numbers, and he’s got enough agents on his side to have eyes and ears in a lot of places. Utah’s on his own, as far as we can tell. Him showing up here is not coincidence. He’s found a way to follow your wife. It’s not luck which has him close by so soon after she got here.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s got a tracker of some sort.”

“A tracker...”

“Like the ones M1 put in you early on. They get you through doors and such, but they also contain a send-and-receive radio. My bet is Utah is either using that to find Tamara, or he’s managed to get one of his own into her or O’Leary. If it was M1’s tracker, Victor wouldn’t need to spread out and search everywhere. How Utah got his own implanted, I don’t know. But it means he’s going straight for her.”

“So we follow him?”

“Yes.”

“And can we track Utah the way he’s tracking my wife?” Gene asked.

Bridgewater shook his head, “No. Utah’s too crafty to be tracked so easily. But I have another idea. Actually, Holly’s idea.”

When the man didn’t elaborate, Gene growled, “Well fucking share it already...”

“Utah’s got a network of his own. I’m sure you recall how easily he got in and out of conversations and systems during your Whitehead days. He won’t trust himself to have access to everything remotely while disconnected. He has to have a device checking in with his net. We find that signal and we find Utah.”

“So how do we go about that?”

“Silver’s on it back in Tirano. He should have a plan shortly. If anyone can find Utah’s signal, it’s Silver.”

“Then we’re just wasting time here until we hear from Silver,” Gene said with less frustration than he felt.

“Not entirely. In fact,” Bridgewater paused, once more placing his finger to his ear, “Marisa just spotted a squad of Victor’s men. That’s useful information.”

“Where are they?” Gene said, scanning the town below and seeing nothing of interest in the growing darkness.

“Coming our way, maybe ten minutes out. By accident or design, they’re honing in on us.”

“Fuck,” Gene muttered. It seemed they were back to the normal plan of getting the fuck away from wherever they were.

“I really don’t care, Finch!” Lauren screamed at him.

The door to their room was closed but Finch worried that their argument was easily heard outside. “Keep it quiet, remember?” he hissed.

“Argh!” Lauren fumed, crossing her arms and turning away from him.

The day spent in the bunker had quickly grown frustrating and depressing. Despite having a bit of fun exploring the layout of the underground compound with his brother and Panthea that morning, there was little to do and too many concerns to relax. Their current argument had started when Lauren caught him and Logan fingering Panthea in the room the three sibling shared. She’d backed out quickly at the time, but returned soon after interrupting their play, Panthea having excused herself after growing concerned at the ease in which someone had just walked in on them.

“We were just fooling around. No one was going to catch us,” Finch pleaded.

“I caught you!” Lauren replied, “Just like Dad caught us! We can’t even lock the door. What if that had been Henderson? Or one of the nameless grunts in this place? Jesus, Finch, we talked about this very thing this morning!”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

Lauren stared at the grey wall and away from Finch a moment, then said, “Look, I know this is hard. It’s hard for all of us, alright? We’re worried sick about Mom and Dad, we hate this place already, and we’re too damn horny for our own good, right? We just have to be really, really careful.”

“I know,” Finch replied, defeated, “I just wanted to have a little fun with her ... Logan started it, anyway.”

“Fuck, Finch!” Lauren hissed, “That excuse? Logan starts everything with you, always has. He’s still a stupid kid, you should know better.”

“Hey!” Logan shouted from the end of the bed, “I’m right here you nutter! I’m not a stupid kid!”

It was sometimes easy to forget his younger brother when Finch and Lauren were arguing. Usually, Logan did instigate things and then sat back with a grin and enjoyed the show. This time, the boy wore no grin and looked rather pissed off that Lauren had called him names.

“Sorry, Logan,” Lauren said quieter, “I didn’t mean you are stupid, you’re just ... fourteen ... Finch is old enough to know this is serious.”

“I know,” Logan said, crossing his arms and puffing up a bit, “and she wanted me to touch her like I did in the van. She started it.”

“Enough,” Lauren fumed, “enough, enough enough!” She whipped her body around and stood up. “We have to stick together, okay? Enough with the blame, with the wandering fingers, with all the stupid reasons why you aren’t paying enough attention to avoid getting caught. It was me this time. It was Dad last night. We can’t have a third time, alright? Promise me!”

Finch shrugged, “I suppose...”

“Finch...”

“Fine. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

“Logan?”

The younger boy drew back his lips before muttering, “I promise.”

Lauren stared at them in turn, then her face softened. “Look ... I know this is hard, alright? Believe me, I know. And ... I really wish we could all just get naked and do it until this place felt more friendly, okay? But we can’t risk that right now. If we find somewhere ... somewhere we might not risk being caught ... we’ll play some more. But right now...”

“Right now we have to behave,” Logan said quietly.

“Exactly,” Lauren replied, “and I’ll talk to Panthea. She surely should know better...”

“Marcus...” Tamara stretched as she called to him from near the cracked-open door of the storage shed, “We should get moving, right?”

Hannigan stirred slowly, then sat upright, “Yeah.” He yawned and shook himself. “We have to find food and water soon.”

Tamara’s stomach growled angrily and her tongue felt parched and thick. Her muscles wanted to cramp up with each small movement. They’d managed to drink a couple of times that day from streams, but they had no canteens or other containers, so the past few hours, while one of them slept, had been dry and uncomfortable. “That would be nice.”

“Anything moving?”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

Hannigan stretched and stood up, grabbing his bag. Tamara already had hers over a shoulder. He said, “Vecchio is due south. The airport closest is southeast a bit further. I’m inclined to get to Vecchio and take its temperature. The airport ... That might be tricky to try to get out that way. I’m no pilot, and I’m assuming you haven’t picked that up while I slept?”

“Hardly,” Tamara chuckled.

“Boat is our best options. If we can get on a big one, we might get back to Italy, or perhaps mainland France. Otherwise, Sardinia offers us a chance to disappear for a while, I think.”

“Then let’s get moving,” said Tamara, “my tongue feels like it is made of sawdust and chalk.”

“I’m sorry, Lauren. And you’re right,” Panthea told her quietly as they sat on a low couch in the sitting room down the hall from the small, private bunk room Panthea had to herself. “It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” Lauren replied. “I hate this place. I get it. I’m so darn horny I could really use some more fun myself, but ... after Dad caught me and Finch, it’s just too risky...”

“We might try my room...”

Lauren shook her head, “I don’t think that helps...”

“No one’s going to walk in on me, plus,” Panthea chuckled, “I can lock my door.”

“Huh?”

“Just one of the tricks I’ve picked up over the years. Just have to have the right tools and a little understanding of how a knob works.”

Lauren chuckled, “I’m sure you know just how a knob works.”

Panthea grinned, “You know what I mean. I’m just saying that ... perhaps we don’t have to go all celibate here ... My room is available for the asking.”

Lauren thought about that a moment, then replied, “Maybe...”

“You and I could test it out right now, you know. I never did get a chance to cum earlier...”

Lauren stirred, her clit rising from memories of her moments spent with the woman in past weeks. “I ... I should get my brothers ... Only fair...”

Panthea smiled, her eyes narrowing, “I’ll go take a shower and freshen up. I suggest you three do the same. Maybe we’ll rendezvous in an hour?”

“Okay. That sounds ... fun. I could use the distraction...”

“Silver’s got a trace,” Bridgewater said as Gene, Holly, Marisa, Bendal, and the two agents, Tinch and Lazlo, gathered around him near the helicopter idling with the pilot already inside. “We’re moving.” They’d managed to avoid Victor’s patrolling squad by repositioning the helicopter to the west and north a few miles, knowing they clearly given themselves away if any of them suspected who was in the chopper. Bridgewater had been in contact with Silver and, finally, they seemed to have caught a break.

“Where is he?” Holly asked as they boarded with urgency.

“North of here a few miles, in a place called Conca.”

Gene slid into his seat, Holly beside him, Bridgewater climbing into the cockpit beside the pilot. Within seconds they were in the air and charging to the north.

“This isn’t good, right? That Utah is here?”

Holly shouted over the whoosh of the chopper, “When was it ever good that Charles Utah showed up anywhere?”

“Good point.”

“He has to have figured out Tamara’s role. Why else would he be chasing her and not you?”

“Dunno. Utah always was a step ahead of everyone. Why did it take him so long if he’s been tracking her?”

“We don’t know when he got the tracker in place,” Holly replied, “could have been recent. Could be someone else following her that he’s honing in on. We don’t know anything yet.”

“So Silver traced him to Conca?”

“Yeah. I owe Silver about a dozen blow jobs at this point. I rather hope he loosens up and wants to collect them.”

“Can it, Holly,” Gene said, “If Utah’s in Conca, then Tamara must be close by. That’s what we’re going with. All I want right now is to get to her before he does.”

“Just stay still!” Hannigan hissed from her left.

Tamara’s heart was racing. They were still some distance from Porto-Vecchio, several miles north of the town, hunched down behind an old rusted-out dumpster behind what seemed to be an active warehouse of some kind. They’d lucked out and found a cardboard box full of half-rotten carrots and potatoes, more then enough of the former still edible to fill their stomachs and pack more away in their bags. Her belly ached a little, but that inconvenience was immediately forgotten when Hannigan had spotted at least a dozen men moving quickly down the road above the warehouse, flashlights out, each one armed with weapons drawn.