The New Bad Thing by Ebner Michael

Author:Ebner, Michael
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pen and Picture
Published: 2023-09-23T00:00:00+00:00

14

THE PAST

Future opportunities and dominant market share. That’s what Una Banca was always on the lookout for. About eleven years ago, Lexington didn’t know it then, but the criminal organization had already chosen him. They had people everywhere, always searching for others who might be useful to them. Like the government Lexington worked for, Una Banca also profited from intelligence for its own operations. When they made up their mind that they wanted someone to work for them, nine out of ten times an arrangement was made. Those that refused vanished from the face of the earth. One way or another.

At the time, Lexington had been in that cushy counterterrorism job in Europe for eighteen months. He was aiming to keep the position for five more years then consider getting out–return home for a consulting gig with a private company or early retirement if his cocksure stockbroker delivered. For his agency counterterrorism role, his cover was working as a member of State. That cover job entailed wining and dining with the European intel community, which enabled him to gather information for counterterrorism and network with potential new sources. He started that job before K.I.L. became a known brand of terror. He worked out of both their embassies in Paris and Rome. It was a comfortable, low risk position with a lot of meet and greets and liquid lunches. The dual city locations served the counterterrorism division well, as some diplomats refused to meet in France but would go to Italy and vice versa. He was meeting a real diverse bunch of players: political, professional and evil.

The first time he met Una Banca was in Rome. He’d just finished an evening meal with some colleagues and was wandering home alone around ten p.m. Already drunk, Lexington was looking forward to cracking open a bottle of Chianti on the bench back at his furnished apartment. He loved the wines of Italy and France. His red face concurred. The agent looked much older than his forty-three years of age. Excessive drinking and smoking a pack of Camels a day were contributing factors.

He was a couple of streets away from the Trevi and was weaving his way through some rowdy groups of tourists. A pack from Taiwan. Another from Finland. A group of Koreans. With all the people and non-stop camera flashes, it was hard to tell if the guy came out of a restaurant or from the other side of the street, but in no time, the person had spun back around and was right up in Lexington’s face.

“Keep up the good work,” he said with an Italian accent. “You work for us now…”

He looked late twenties and there were two other Italian males standing either side of him. The agent wasn’t sure if he was a restaurant greeter clowning around with some bouncers or just a local whack job. The guy that spoke to him was the shorter one in their trio and he gave him a business card for a restaurant. Lexington wasn’t intimidated by their intensity.

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