Alexei
Gianna hid her true emotions well as she sat beside me in the dinghy approaching the docks in Syracuse. She’d shown me a false front ever since I first saw her on deck this morning. After my discoveries the other night about her inexperience, I expected her more closed off and planned to warm her back up gradually to keep from spooking her. Her return flight didn’t leave for a week. I had time enough to take it slow, especially after speeding along way too quickly the night before last.
Yesterday, she’d hermitted herself away into the early afternoon. When she’d crept into the lounge, she’d covered herself up in a shawl. Just as I planned for so I’d taken the role of the tortoise.
Games offered a more than a pleasant distraction and a way to pass the time. Competition had the power to pull someone from their shell. Games exposed what type of person you were.
Gianna had proved herself a worthy competitor, that was for sure. She’d picked the game up faster than I’d expected. It helped me slip through her defenses though. She’d warmed up though I’d held back, even after she’d ended the game… for the time being. I didn’t want to spook her back into that shell.
And then she’d sauntered onto the deck in that dress. I’d expected her more covered, newly shy with how far we’d gone, maybe further than she’d ever gone with a guy. It wasn’t the first time she’d surprised me; worthy opponents always kept you on your toes, ready with your fighting stance just in case. The way that slinky fabric shimmered as her hips swayed kept my eyes glued to her every move.
The unexpected continued when she accepted my offer for tea. Her fingers brushed against mine when I passed her a cup. She licked her lips after the first sip, her tongue deliberately slow. And I brewed a good cup, but it didn’t deserve the little moan she gave soon after.
Her inexperience could excuse such clumsy flirtation, but better explanations existed. That first night had been lust, on both our parts. She didn’t feel any more, not yet. But she wanted me to believe she did and that I would soon taste victory.
Before she even finished her tea, Pavel had turned the yacht into Syracuse’s harbor. The ancient stone walls of the fortress on the island of Ortygia, the oldest part of a city that traced its roots back to ancient Greek colonists rose to our right, pale weathered stone at the edge of the water. The close packed buildings of the old city rose above them, so much history in a place like this.
The rest of the city sprawled beside it, more spread out, taking advantage of the extra space before farms and pastures took over the hills to the other side of the harbor. The only thing that marred the ancient beauty was a stark, gleaming white cruise ship that rose like fortress walls itself in the middle of the harbor. A trio of 20-foot tenders packed with tourists jetted from the monstrosity.
Gianna went still as Pavel slowed to a stop not too far from the cruise ship Leviathan. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the ancient harbor city, her mouth quivered. No fear, though. The Bastard had told her to stay away from Sicily, I was sure of it by her response, but he had never shared why. His former brother-in-law Franco hated him more than I did, and for the same damn reason. He’d stop at nothing to hurt the man.
Now, with the docks a just a few meters away and closing fast, Gianna’s eyes darted every which way. They focused on everyone near the waterfront. With the tourists who had just arrived crowding it, she had a lot of faces to choose from but she tried to study them all, to find any hint of danger. Paranoia did that to a person, but if you weren’t a little paranoid in our world, you didn’t live long enough to gain any.
“Breathtaking city, isn’t it.” I made small talk, waiving my arm at the old fortress walls. “Settled by the Greeks, it had Roman, Carthaginian, Islamic and Italian periods after. Some fascinating history happened here.”
“You should give tours.” She snorted and red tinged her cheeks before she continued. “I bet you’d get great tips from the old ladies on that cruise ship.”
“My time’s more valuable than that, my dear,” I said and patted the book in my hand against my leg. “Speaking of that, we do have to make a quick stop before I can give you a tour of my favorite spots.”
“I hope you’re not expecting a tip for the tour,” she snapped, then frowned at the book, leaning closer to read its spine. “Are you planning on reading The Prince to me? A little on the nose, don’t you think? The end justifies the means and all that? Is someone feeling a little guilty about kidnapping me? Do you need to justify your actions, even to yourself?”
“No, a happy accident,” I replied, ignoring her needling, “and Machiavelli got a bad rap. He worked toward a representative government, almost fetishized the Roman Republic period before it fell to empire, and he despised the authoritarian tactics of the Medici. This is mostly satire, but the book’s not important; only a few of the words inside are.”
Oleg hopped out of the boat to tie it to the pier. I remained on board and held the book out to Gianna, open to the right page. Showing her the code hadn’t been a part of the plan, but I wanted to see how she’d react and if she’d understand. I’d put my money on yes. She was a worthy opponent, after all.
She leaned close to the pages, eyes narrowed. Her face scrunched up into a cute thinking pose as she scanned it. Her hand on the bench between us brushed against my leg. A frown grew on her face the longer she looked.
“Your highlighting seems pretty random,” she thought aloud. “You highlighted the word ‘the’ here, that’s sloppy of you. Are trying to hide a code? It could be scrambled words, maybe a scramble only using the first or last letters of the word? I’d need paper to try and decipher it, but I doubt it’s that easy. I assume whoever you are giving the book to has their own key to decipher it? That’s the only way to truly guarantee security.”
“Do you send secret messages often?” I teased and pulled the book back. “Though this technically isn’t a message.”
“Not a message?” Her face scrunched up again, like a chipmunk stumped by an A level exam question. “It’s a payment. The code is to a Swiss Bank account.”
“Swiss banks? What is this, the 1950s?” I asked using the same teasing tone as before, “Swiss banks are so passe and not as friendly to the criminal element anymore.”
“Digital!” She clapped her hands and poked at the book. “That’s a Crypto key or whatever they call them. Why not just email it, ever hear about TOR?”
“Impressive, right up until you fell face first in your landing.” I chuckled and shook my head slowly. “TOR isn’t as secure as most people delude themselves into thinking. The feds, Interpol, the GRU, they are all over it. When you’re dealing in this kind of money, you don’t trust the dark web. Hell, you shouldn’t trust the dark web at all, really. Half of the people lurking there are trolls or cops waiting to entrap any person they can.”