*Mestre highlands: Outside the Russian compound. 13:44 local time.*
Goose gets to within a few blocks of the Russian compound, dropping off Brian and Carla. Brian pulls their gear out of the trunk while also accessing the current outside conditions.
Variable winds. Overcast skies. The darkening skies up north don't look too friendly. It could be worse, but it could be alot better.
After searching for nearly an hour, Brian finds himself perched in a church bell tower just about 100m from the Russian compound. It's by no means an ideal vantage point, but it does offer the best unobstructed view of the villa's front driveway.
Carla settles herself in a clump of trees next to the iron fencing. Upon closer inspection of the bars, it appears they're wired with a considerable charge. A hapless stray dog's attempt at relieving itself on the barrier yield a considerably maimed and frightened hound as it runs away in pain.
Setting up shop for a forward looking post, Brian spots the convoy of Mercedes SUVs parked in a paved roundabout near the villa's entrance. An initial headcount yields eight guards up front. Two maintain positions at the door entrance, two patrol the immediate grounds around the villa, two walk the fence perimeter accompanied by a couple of dobermans with two more guarding the front gate.
Goose returns to the house, finding Jess and Ayumi apparently preparing for World War III while he was gone. An illicit display of automatic weapons is sprawled out on the dining room table. The ladies are apparently going over how the pick-up will be executed, possible escape routes, and how they are determined to supremely fuck over anyone who gets in their way.
"Say, Ayumi and me were just wondering if you could take us out to the bus station. Not that we're investigating alternative transportation, but we'd like to know where we can dive for cover when this encounter invariably goes south."
Their gear prepped and accounted for, Artis drives the ladies to the bustling Mestre Trainstation (first stopping at McDonald's for a numero due for the driver). Tourists and locals pack the entryway in droves as Artis pulls up to the passenger drop-off zone.
He pops the trunk while chomping down on a french fry as buses and other assorted motorists come dangerously close to the Agency vehicle. The constant near-miss spectacle comes to fruition when a rather oblivious tour bus driver clips the back fender of the Mustang as it swerves into the neighboring lane. The bus makes a hard stop, the entrydoor opening with a rather embarrassed look on driver's face as he steps out to access the damage.
'Take us to the bus station', she said. 'Nothing'll go wrong at the bus station', she said.
Artis gets out, french fry half-out of his mouth, and looks at the fender. Then he looks at the bus, then at the fender, then at the driver. The french fry gets spat onto the ground as Artis says:
The swarthy Italian bus driver can sense the irritation in Artis, promptly replying in broken English.
"Uh. Signore. Imma sooo sorry 'bout you fine automobile. But s'okay. Lookee for youself..."
The driver points down to the slight paint scuff on the Mustang's bumper then over to the mangled front bumper of his bus. He smiles at Artis in a I know I fucked up, but please don't hurt me kind of way.
Mansion Stakeout, 15:34
Surveillance of the villa grounds is fairly predictable. The guards have their set beats and patrol them with clockwork precision. A silver Ferrari breaks the monotony when it pulls up to the gates with a loud tire squeal. Brian pans his view down to the driver's side as the heavily tinted window descends only slightly when one of the guards approaches it. A brief exchange is made with the guard gesturing to the other as the gates open, the Ferrari doing a burn-out as it ascends up the driveway towards the villa slamming down each gear in a groaning display of wheelmanship.
Stopping just inches from one of the Mercedes, the rather burly and dishelved driver exits the vehicle with a stunning brunette stepping out of the passenger side. They are both greeted by Liz and Ivan. Liz hugs the woman with a friendly, almost compassionate squeeze and smile. She then turns to man and begins verbally then physically (a heel stomp to his foot) chiding him, pointing to the Ferrari then down towards the gate, perhaps for the tire marks and generally civil disobedience.
Brian takes his eyes off the situation for a second, doing a double-take on what just transpired before going back to surveilling the villa.
To say that the interior of the Mestre trainstation was crowded would be an understatement. Passengers and well-wishers pack the station's stone floors to near capacity. A quick look at the station's inbound/outbound schedule is comparable to that of any major international airport. Jess' acute verbal skills pick up no less than a dozen languages being passed back and forth at any given moment.
The walk to from the main entrance to the ladies' room (ably assisted by some nondiscreet shoving by Ayumi) takes about 10 minutes. Getting inside the restroom is act not unlike vying for a stall in a busy nightclub. The agents can only hope the afternoon mayhem will subside for tonight's pick-up.
Telemetry from Brian's live-feed of the villa comes back with some interesting findings. The information is uploaded to everyone's Sat-Comms as an open channel call comes in from Nightengale.
"Good evening, agents. I pulled a few strings and got Agent Nighthawk temporarily reassigned to this case. You should have just received an upload to your Sat-Comms with the lastest intelligence gathered from Agent Osprey's surveillance. The aforementioned Silver Ferrari was recently purchased by one David Mason. Not coincidentally, he is the same individual spotted by Agent Osprey exiting the vehicle approximately 90 minutes ago. He changed his name a number of years ago...it should probably ring a bell. His birth name was David Mason Decker.
*Cue dramatic pause*
"...It gets better. His female companion has be accurately identified within a 95% probabilty as Lara F. Meyers. Harry had to dig deep on this woman, she's a ghost after 1996. We did trace a few phone bills and an IRS 1040 form to another name you're up close and intimate with...The F in Ms. Meyer's name stands for Fischer..."
Nightengale pauses briefly, letting everyone vent their frustrations.
"My sentiment exactly, Agent Osprey. In lieu of the current developments and in the interest of no less than sixteen government agencies, from here on out this will be a fully backed Agency operation. Saving Agent Ibis' will be remain the primary objective but any connection that those two had or may still have with the Deckers is the next immediate item on your list..."
Dieter
