Volume 3 Preface

Volume 3 is a series of vignettes showing the Paolo Di Tomaso / Dina fratello taking to the field as well as living the twilight life shared by all SWA assets.

Prologue

The day Priscilla dreaded was here. As per policy, Section One filed the quarterly order to dispose of evidence containers from year-old closed cases. In two weeks' time, they would be incinerated.

Officially Priscilla's job title was intelligence analyst, but she did much more than that. Between her encyclopedic knowledge from analyzing all the after-action reports, and her being the go-to person in the office, Priscilla could easily have changed the policy, misfiled that one box, or one of many other acts to keep this day from coming to pass.

However, her domain was limited to Section Two, the unseen half of the Social Welfare Agency.

Section One served as the Social Welfare Agency's public face. After Section Two performed their wet work and faded away, Section One would step forward and perform their thorough investigations, ignoring the news media behind the crime-scene tape and police barricades.

Priscilla weighed her options. They were few, and poor. Section One and Two had a long-standing rivalry, so inter-departmental cooperation was nominal on the good days. Priscilla was developing a friendship with Elenora Gabrielli, one of the few women working in Section One, but it was a recent development, and a tenuous relationship. She considered mislabeling the box so it would be spared, but the cost should that act be discovered was too high.

In the end, she resigned herself to the inevitability of its fate, but gave herself leave to see it one last time.

Ξ§§§Ξ

The well-gnawed pencil inscribed another slow circle in the air between them, guided by the broad man's yellowed teeth and rough lips. "I don't see why Section Two cares about this box. It's been a year since this file was closed."

Priscilla took a deep breath. She couldn't tell if Romano was objecting to her request simply because she was from Section Two or he was simply being lazy. "It's due for destruction, right?"

"Yeah, but I still don't see why—"

"One of the deceased, Favianne DeAngelis? Her daughter is one of our cyborgs. I need to take pictures of DeAngelis' personal effects to test if the cyborg is rejecting our conditioning and regressing."

The pencil dropped. "You did what? Holy… You … Section Two… You're monsters!"

Priscilla narrowed her eyes, thinned her lips in a most unwelcoming grimace of a smile. "So, when do I get to see the box?"

Ξ§§§Ξ

Section One provided an interrogation room for Priscilla's errand. She ignored the one-way mirror, though she was confident that she was being recorded. The box contained all evidence from the failed bombing attempt at the Impregilo S.p.A. meeting. Umberto Panarello's effects, each in a sealed transparent bag, Priscilla set aside in a neat pile. Favianne DeAngelis's bags she photographed slowly, trying to make some permanent memory of these physical bonds with her once-mentor.

She did not photograph the maid's uniform Favianne wore when she died. That's not her. That's not how I want to remember her. Not all that blood and… She gave a shudder as she set it atop the modest blouse and slacks Section One found in the hotel bathroom.

An unsealed bag held smaller bags, each containing scraps of paper or keys. Priscilla noted that, aside from her falsified identity card and driver's license, Favianne did not possess any other cards - no memberships, no credit cards, not even a library card.

What sort of life were you living, Favianne?

The paper scraps were mundane. A receipt. A second. A fare ticket. A shopping list, scribbled in haste.

What's this?

Priscilla held in her hand a handwritten receipt, the fields filled by strong, archaic letters. The ink on the page looked pressed on, but black, not the faint blue / light-grey of modern carbonless copies.

Carbon...less?

Priscilla feigned a coughing fit. As she brought her hand to her cover her mouth, the small, sealed evidence bag floated past her neckline into her blouse.