Topless Agenda

by Lyle Christie

  “Buonjiorno,” I said.

  He was about my age and good-looking with his manly square jaw, lightly bronzed skin, and dark hair that contrasted nicely with his blue eyes. He also appeared to be in pretty decent shape, and, had he been more of a couch potato, I might have considered running—but again, where? This ship was his territory, and he obviously knew it a lot better than I did. Fuck.

  “Hey, what the fuck you doing?” he asked, in accented English.

  “Tying my shoe. What the fuck are you doing?”

  He looked confused.

  “None of your fucking business. Now, stay where you are.”

  Fuck. Life was often about trying to make good decisions, but it would appear that I only had two options to choose from at the moment: take him out or try to talk my way out of the situation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A Passage to Sicily

  I DECIDED THE non-violent route was the path of least resistance and stood up to greet the guy as he came around to my side of the car. He had his right hand on the pistol in his shoulder holster, and I now suspected he was not a policeman, but rather some kind of customs officer and apparently took his job very seriously. Clearly, this was going to take some real smooth talking or, if all else failed, the promise of sex. Not really, but maybe if Lux or Bridgette had bothered to accompany me on my little reconnaissance mission. I, therefore, put on as innocent a face as I could muster, and, remembering the special identification badge Corn had given me back in Switzerland, reached for my wallet. The guy, instinctively, pulled out his gun and told me to freeze in a loud and commanding voice, which made me think that he must watch a lot of American television and movies. Unfortunately, his Beretta 9mm was not a prop, and the safety was off, and the weapon was ready to fire. I turned slightly to show him I was only reaching for my wallet.

  “I’m a Diplomatic Special Security Agent for the U.S. State Department, and I’m here working on a joint operation with your AISI,” I said.

  AISI was an acronym that stood for Italy’s Internal Information and Security Agency, and I figured it would be good to mention it, as it added credence to my story.

  “Oh really?” he asked.

  “Sì, and here’s my ID. The name’s Finn, Tag Finn,” I said, as I flashed him my credentials.

  I actually hadn’t checked out the ID very closely, but it must have looked good enough to pass muster, because he eyed the picture then my face before relaxing and holstering his pistol.

  “Ah, Buongiorno! My name is Rino Mandelli. I work for the Guardia Di Finanza. Sorry for the dramatic entrance, but I watch the ferries for smugglers between the mainland and Sicily. I thought you might be hiding something under the car. It happens more often than you might think.”

  “No problem, you were just doing your job. It’s nice to meet you,” I said, as I reached out to shake his hand.

  “The pleasure is all mine. So, what were you doing with that car?” he asked.

  “Technically, I was looking for its owners. We believe they may be involved in aiding and abetting a terror cell here in Italy that is trying to get to a witness we’re transporting out of the country.”

  It wasn’t exactly true, but it was good enough for the moment.

  “Terrorist mother fuckers! I don’t understand. Why can’t they just sit back, relax, and enjoy life.”

  “I know. There are so many better things out there other than jihad.”

  “Sì, women, alcohol, and food being the most important.”

  “Yeah, but don’t forget coffee.”

  He smiled.

  “Sì, there are actually four ingredients to a truly rewarding existence.”

  Italians, you’ve got to love ’em. They certainly had their priorities in the right order.

  “Hey, speaking of coffee, do you want to get an espresso? The snack bar’s is pretty good, but, more importantly, the girl who works there is bella,” he said, as he kissed his fingers then splayed them open in the same classic Italian gesture that the non-handwashing coffee jockey had used only the day before.

  “Sì,” I said, enthusiastically.

  We left the car deck and headed upstairs to the snack bar and took a seat at the counter. Just as Rino had said, the girl who worked it was indeed bella, at least from behind. He pointed at her backside and made the same hand gesture he’d made earlier, only this time without any noise. I had to admit that he was entirely justified, and, to make things even better, she was bent over the back counter putting a fresh filter in the coffee machine, thus giving us quite a view of her backside. Sweet Lord! It was round, pert, and filled her skintight leggings in a way that made my salsiccia want to party in my pantaloni. She sensed our presence and turned her head and smiled at Rino.

  “Ciao-ciao, Rino! You staring at my ass again?”

  “Of course, Ambra! It is magnifico! Don’t you agree, Finn?” he asked, turning his attention to me.

  Ambra raised an eyebrow as she waited for my response.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Sì, it’s Magnifico!” I said, doing the little hand gesture of kissing my fingertips then flipping them open.

  Ambra smiled.

  “Who is your friend, Rino?”

  “This, as you probably just heard, is Finn, and he works for the American government.”

  She finished filling the coffee machine then came over to the counter, and I could instantly see why Rino was so excited to see her. She was probably somewhere in her middle twenties, beautiful, and had long brown hair, sultry brown eyes, and thick red lips that made me think about the birds and the bees in great detail. She cocked her head to the side and leaned forward with her arms on the counter, the gesture pressing her breasts pressed together like two slices of heaven in her tight low-cut shirt.

  “So, you are a spy,” she said.

  “No—no—nothing so exciting. I’m just a boring State Department Agent.”

  She looked me up and down.

  “I find that hard to believe, but do not worry. Your secret is safe with me. Now, do you see anything you like back here, Mr. Finn?” she asked, her alluring smile enough to turn the party in my pantalonis into a full on rager.

  I could think of a lot of ways to answer that question, but I decided to try and keep it civilized.

  “Call me Finn or Tag, and sì, I see a lot I like back there, though I’ll keep it simple and order—due espressi per favore,” I said.

  “Your Italiano is buono. You must be a spy,” she said, raising one eyebrow.

  “Who’s a spy?” I heard, from behind me.

  I turned around to see Lux standing there and realized that she had probably heard the entire exchange and was obviously filing it away so she could give me shit about it later.

  “Tre espressi per favore,” Lux corrected.

  Rino turned to see Lux and gave her the full head to toe appraisal and obviously liked what he saw, for he immediately stood up and introduced himself.

  “Bongiorno! I’m Rino, and I’m a lieutenant in the Guardia Di Finanza. If you know Finn then you must also be a Security Agent with the State Department.”

  “Sì.”

  “He’s a lucky man to have such a beautiful partner.”

  “Well, thank you, Rino,” she said, batting her eyelashes at the amorous Italian.

  Ambra turned back to the machine to get our espressos, and I was again drawn to the enchanting curvature of her buttocks. What the hell was she doing serving coffee when she could be modeling swimsuits in Rome or Milan? A not so subtle elbow to the ribs brought my attention back to Lux, who didn’t look as happy as I was feeling—probably wondering why in the hell I was putting back espressos with the locals instead of looking for the fucking Fuchs.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Lux. I was just telling Rino about the couple from the silver Range Rover.”

  “Sì, fucking terrorists. The world, she sure has changed.”

  “She has, my friend, and that’s why we could use your help,�
�� I said.

  “Of course. What do you need?”

  “Any chance you could slow that silver Range Rover down when we reach Messina? We have to get that witness I mentioned to a safe house.”

  “Uh—what?” he said, suddenly sounding distracted.

  He wasn’t listening to me anymore, because he was, instead, enraptured by Lux, who had just taken off her jacket, instantly revealing her two most powerful weapons of persuasion. Obviously, she figured out that I wasn’t hanging out with Rino by accident, and now she was actively turning him into an asset—her Agency training finally coming alive as she utilized her own assets to play him like a fine Italian viola. At that point, I decided that it was a lot easier to just sit back and let her continue the conversation, which entailed her repeating what I had said—but this time Rino pledged to help to the fullest of his abilities. Buono!

  While Lux continued to talk with Rino I finished my espresso and set it on the counter, and Ambra took my cup, poured me another, and smiled seductively as she asked me if I wanted something sweet. Again, I had a lot of ways that I wanted to answer that question but chose the polite one.

  “Oh, no thank you, but maybe later.”

  “How about seven?”

  “As in p.m.?”

  “Sì, that’s when I get off.”

  “Maybe we could both get off.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Unfortunately, we’re in the middle of an important operation and won’t be staying in town.”

  “Too bad.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year.”

  She smiled and brushed her hair back over her shoulder and stood with her head still cocked to one side. Fuck—how often did you get to meet a girl like Ambra let alone get offered a date. Two weeks ago I would have said never, but today it was a real possibility.

  “I will definitely be back through town when I’m done with this assignment.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  At that point, Lux spoke up and said that we should be getting back to our people.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you both, and Ambra, I will be thinking fondly of you until we meet again—if you know what I mean,” I said, moving my fist in a masturbational motion to emphasize my point.

  She laughed and blushed ever so slightly, thus finally breaking from her cool Italian composure. Buono! I would sincerely miss my lovely barista. Rino, meanwhile, embraced Lux, unexpectedly kissing her on the lips before reaching over and shaking my hand. With our goodbyes officially concluded, Lux grabbed hold of my arm and gave me a firm tug, as she apparently wanted to get back to the others or, more likely, get me away from Ambra. Once we were out of earshot of our new friends, she gave me her usual disapproving look then spoke.

  “I really hate to sound like a broken record here, but, seriously, can you go ten fucking minutes without making some kind of love connection?”

  “Do you really think that I can just turn this off?”

  “Sadly, I doubt it.”

  We joined Bridgette and Babs, and I gave them the update that our friends from the Range Rover were nowhere to be found, but we had an Italian contact in the local security service who was going to slow them down when they tried to leave the ferry. All in all, it was pretty good news, and, hopefully, we’d be able to meet Babs’s sister and hightail it out of town and leave those fucking Fuchs well behind.

  An announcement came over the ferry’s loudspeaker that we would be docking in about five minutes and should prepare to disembark. We grabbed our things and moved towards the exit ramp at the front, where I had an excellent view of the entire bow of the ferry. I did a quick visual sweep of the crowd in hopes of finding the fucking Fuchs, but, again, came up empty. Clearly, those fucking Fuchs were some sneaky fuckers. I turned my attention back to the ferry’s progress and watched as it inched closer to the pier until making contact with the padded pilings. The mild collision forced everyone to hold on and steady themselves as the boat lurched and came to rest. Soon thereafter, crewmen in blue jumpsuits secured the dock lines, and, with the vessel safely tied off, the exit ramp was lowered, and I at last saw the fucking Fuchs approaching their Range Rover down on the car deck. Right behind them was Rino, my new best friend after Ambra, and it would appear that he had called in support from ashore, because people in uniforms raced aboard and surrounded the fucking Fuchs just as they reached their vehicle. Hot damn! That should buy us a nice chunk of time to get the hell off the ferry.

  We continued down the boarding ramp onto the dock then joined the throng of people heading out to the street. I was about to ask Babs where his sister was meeting us when a beautiful woman appeared before our eyes. She had sandy blond hair, green eyes, and that healthy looking, tanned olive skin that you saw on Mediterranean women. Babs had very fair complexion by comparison, so it made sense that she was only a half-sister. At least one of her parents had to be Italian, most likely her mother. She walked up to Babs, and they kissed each other on each cheek before exchanging a warm hug.

  “I’ve missed you so much Adrien,” she said, her accent French though not quite as thick as her brother’s.

  “I’ve missed you too, and this is Bridgette, the girl I told you about.”

  “Nice to meet you, Bridgette,” she said, kissing her on each cheek.

  Next, she turned to Lux and me, and it wasn’t quite as warm a welcome.

  “So, you are the ones who want to take my brother to America so that the CIA can torture him."

  “I promise you, they are not going to torture him. He’s coming of his own free will. They just want information, and then everyone is free to go as they please,” Lux said.

  “Well, if he does not return, I promise you that I will use all my substantial resources to make sure he is released.”

  “Don’t worry, Letizia. Bridgette here is Lux’s little sister, so, needless to say, everyone involved wants this to be as painless and smooth as possible,” I said.

  Babs stepped forward and put his arm around Letizia.

  “It’s OK, my darling. Lux and Asshole have done a lot to keep me alive thus far.”

  Letizia stared a moment then smiled and put out her hand to shake.

  “In that case, it’s nice to meet you, Asshole.”

  She definitely had her brother’s sense of humor.

  “I’m Tag, but you can still call me Asshole if you really want to, and, for the record, I don’t work for the CIA. Not officially, anyway.”

  “Good to know, though I hear you gave my brother a lot of trouble on his island.”

  “Sì, or should I say Oui?”

  “Either. My father is French and my mother is Italian.”

  “So, from which of those countries does your name originate?”

  “Technically both, but the z makes it more French and changes the meaning. In Italian, it could refer to the Roman goddess of fertility and abundance, but in French it can mean fair haired.”

  “Then your name suits you perfectly in both countries.”

  “Well, at least France, as I’ve always had light hair—ever since I was a child.”

  “So, you’re a natural blond.”

  “Head to toe,” she said, with a demure laugh.

  She still regarded me with some suspicion, but, given enough time, I might be able to get under that beautiful olive skin.

  “Now, please follow me. My car is just up the street,” she said.

  She put her arm around Babs, then led us up the street, and I took some time to admire her figure in her thin, tight black dress. The sunlight allowed me to see her thong underwear and the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra, though she didn’t really need one with her unusually pert breasts. The view was absolutely buono, and, while I imagined her clothing choice was about as far as you could get from winter wear, who was I to question the dress code of Sicily? We continued on up the block until Letizia stopped in front of a dark grey current model BMW M5 station wagon. It was a hell of a car and on
e that was rarely seen in the United States, where super sport wagons had yet to become as popular as they were in Europe. She clicked her key fob to unlock the doors and rear hatch, and we loaded our stuff then took a seat. Babs sat in the front beside his sister while Lux, Bridgette, and I climbed into the back. Letizia pressed the start button, and the engine roared to life with a throaty grumble. She gave it a few revs then put it in gear and accelerated into the bustling terminal traffic. She wasn’t a timid driver and navigated the streets like a pro, making quick efficient shifts, the miles flying by so quickly that we were soon well beyond the city and heading inland away from the water.

  “Taormina is on the coast, right?” I asked.

  “Yes, though I opted for the fastest route instead of the scenic one, but we’ll be on the A18 soon, which heads back to the shore,” Letizia said.

  “This might be faster, but the view is still beautiful,” I said, as I smiled at her in the rearview mirror.

  She smiled back, but at that moment Babs turned around and glared at me, his head placement purposely blocking my view of Letizia.

  “What?” I asked.

  He held his discerning gaze on me for a bit longer then returned his attention to the highway ahead, where Letizia had just merged onto the A18 toll road. Just as she had said, it turned back towards the shore, and now we were headed southwest down towards Taormina, though my view of the ocean was slightly hindered, as I was riding bitch in the middle of the backseat. I wasn’t about to complain, however, as I had Bridgette on my left, Lux on my right, and Letizia just in front of me. I couldn’t help but feel like the world’s luckiest man to be surrounded by so much beauty, and, regardless of what the future might hold, this moment was absolutely buono, or to be even more accurate—perfetto!