Chapter 35: The Casanova
Ventimiglia, Italian Border.
Heavy rain poured down on the small port city, masking the tracks of the black Maybach parked in a dark, narrow alley behind an exclusive bar called "La Luna". The sound of jazz music could be faintly heard clashing with the roar of rain on the car roof.
In the driver's seat, Xavier turned off the engine, leaving only the dim light from the tablet on his lap. The digital map showed red lines blocking the main roads.
"Impossible to penetrate by land without triggering an alarm," muttered Xavier, his fingers tapping the screen at a fast tempo. "Luigi installed thermal motion sensors every one hundred meters. We need an access code to shut down the network temporarily."
"Let's just blow up the power station," suggested Agatha casually while twirling her silver dagger. "Total blackout, problem solved."
"That would black out the whole city, Honey. We want to kill Luigi, not become national terrorists," rejected Xavier without turning his head. He glanced at the back seat through the rearview mirror. "Frans, this is your stage."
Agatha frowned, staring at her husband's best friend with a doubtful gaze. "Frans? What is he going to do? Cook steak for the guards?"
Frans, who was sitting in the back seat, grinned broadly. He didn't answer. Instead, he opened a small bag, taking out a black silk shirt and a small bottle of perfume.
With quick movements, Frans took off his thick tactical jacket, replacing it with the silk shirt. He left the top three buttons open, revealing a bit of his chest. He combed his hair back in a slick-back style, then sprayed perfume that smelled masculine and sweet—a scent of musk and expensive tobacco.
Agatha's jaw dropped. Frans's jovial aura vanished instantly, replaced by an aura... dangerously seductive.
"Don't underestimate me, Agatha," said Frans, his voice suddenly sounding heavier and lower. "In this world, there are doors that can't be opened with bombs or money. Can only be opened with... a tongue."
"A tongue?" Agatha stared at Frans in disgust. "You want to lick an electric fence?"
"Not the fence. But the key holder," answered Xavier. "Bianca Rosetti. Head of local security logistics. Beautiful widow, thirty-five years old, lonely, and has a fatal weakness for romantic men."
"And Frans is the cure," continued Frans confidently. He put a small earpiece in his ear. "Wait here. Fifteen minutes. I will bring that access code."
Frans grabbed a black umbrella, stepped out of the car with a sturdy and elegant stride, far different from his usually relaxed and goofy walk.
Agatha stared at Frans's back in disbelief. "Are you serious, Xav? Frans? The one afraid of cockroaches?"
"Watch and learn," Xavier pressed a button on the dashboard, turning on the voice tap access attached to Frans's shirt button. "You will know why I never fired him even though he often eats up my food stock."
The sound of clinking glasses and bar bustle immediately filled the car cabin through the speakers.
"Sound check. In?" Frans's voice was heard on the speaker.
"Clear," answered Xavier. "Target at the bar table, red dress. Don't fail."
"Ready."
Agatha leaned her body forward, curious.
Inside the bar, the sound of footsteps approaching was heard, then the sound of a chair being pulled.
"Martini again?" Frans's voice was heard. Not Frans the assistant's voice, but the voice of a man full of confidence and seduction.
"I don't need a drinking buddy," answered a woman's voice—Bianca—with a curt and arrogant tone in Italian.
"I am not offering myself as a drinking buddy, Bella," replied Frans smoothly. His pause was perfect, his tone low. "I am offering myself as the reason for you to smile tonight. A face that beautiful is a waste if it's crumpled like wrinkled clothes."
In the car, Agatha covered her mouth. "That is Frans? Seriously?"
"Shhh," hissed Xavier.
In the bar, silence for a moment. Then a chuckle of amusement was heard from Bianca.
"Are you a psychic?" asked Bianca, her tone starting to soften. "Or just a gigolo looking for prey?"
"I am an admirer of neglected beauty," Frans gave a dramatic pause. "My name is Franco. And your eyes... remind me of the Positano sea at twilight. Blue, deep, and dangerous."
"Trashy pick-up line," commented Agatha whispering. "Who falls for talk like that?"
"Franco..." sighed Bianca on the speaker. "You have a sweet mouth. Do you want something from me?"
"Just one dance," answered Frans quickly. "This jazz song is too sad to be enjoyed alone. Keep me company?"
Sound of chairs sliding. Sound of fabric rubbing. They danced. Agatha could imagine Frans holding the woman's waist, looking deep into her eyes with his signature 'crocodile' gaze.
"Actually..." Frans's voice was heard whispering, his breath sounded very close to the microphone, which meant close to Bianca's ear. "I am a bit dizzy, Bella. My cargo truck is stuck at the border. Something about Luigi's annoying new security sensors."
"Oh? Are you a smuggler?" Bianca chuckled flirtatiously. "Naughty."
"I am an impatient businessman. And I heard... the most beautiful woman in Ventimiglia holds the key to that gate."
"You approached me for the access code?" asked Bianca. Her tone was teasing, not suspicious.
"I approached you because you are beautiful," corrected Frans quickly. "The code is just a bonus so I can finish my business quickly, get paid, then take you to dinner in Paris next week."
"Paris?" Bianca's voice rose enthusiastically.
"Paris. Eiffel Tower. You, me, and the best champagne at Le Jules Verne restaurant. How about it? You deserve a vacation from this boring city."
Hening lama. Only the sound of their breathing. Agatha held her breath inside the car.
"Take your phone," whispered Bianca finally. "Write this down. But if you lie about Paris, I will cut off your 'little brother'."
"I promise on your beautiful eyes."
Frans dictated a series of numbers quickly. "Eight. Eight. Alpha. Tango. Nine."
"Thank you, Amore," said Frans softly.
Kiss.
The sound of a kiss was heard clearly. Wet and long.
"Damn it," cursed Agatha, her face disgusted but impressed. "He really kissed her?"
"That is the contract seal," chuckled Xavier.
"Want to play upstairs?" said Frans softly. "In a place where there is only the two of us," whispered Frans so seductively.
"Follow me..."
Not long after, the sound of stifled moans came rushing in.
Connection cut.
"Damn it," hissed Agatha.
Half an hour later, the car door opened. Frans entered while wiping the remaining bright red lipstick on his cheek with a wet tissue. He combed back his messy hair again, then grinned broadly at Agatha.
Agatha rolled her eyes lazily.
"Access code safe, Xav! 88-Alpha-Tango-9. Valid until three in the morning," reported Frans proudly.
Agatha looked at Frans with a new view.
"You... is this what you call fifteen minutes?" Agatha shook her head. "You are such a pervert."
"Why, Agatha? Want it?" teased Frans while buttoning his shirt back up to the top. "Relax, my heart remains loyal to the job, although my body belongs to the people."
"You manipulated her feelings for a code," said Agatha cynically. "You said you wanted to take her to Paris. You gave her false hope."
"Paris is indeed beautiful, Tha. Who knows, maybe one day I will really take her when I retire," Frans shrugged casually, not feeling guilty in the slightest. "In this dark world, everyone needs a sweet dream once in a while, Tha. I just gave her that dream for half an hour. She is happy, we are happy. Win-win solution."
Xavier turned on the car engine. His tablet now showed a green light on the map. The path was open.
"Good work, Casanova. Your bonus will be liquidated after this."
"Awesome! Capital for marriage!" cheered Frans.
Agatha leaned her back, staring at the two men in front of her.
"You two are just the same," muttered Agatha. "Both manipulative devils. One uses money and pistols, one uses a sweet mouth. Truly bastards."
"And you use a knife, Tha," replied Frans while pointing at Agatha's dagger. "We are one happy dysfunctional family."
Xavier chuckled softly, stepping on the gas pedal. The car glided through the rain.
"Get ready," ordered Xavier, his voice returning to cold and serious. "Five kilometers more we enter the red zone. The rose party begins. No mercy."
Agatha stared ahead. A thin smile appeared on her lips.
"I have been waiting for this."