That disarmed Claudio immediately. He kissed Michael on both cheeks and wished him good luck.

“You, too, and when this is all over we’ll come bark for some quieter times.” Michael said.

Streak was impatient to get moving. “Look, bugger the sweet goodbyes and let’s just get in the car.”

“Oh, God, we don’t have one,” Michael suddenly remembered.

“Yes, we do.” Streak was dangling some keys on a Lancia keyring in Michael’s face.

“Thank heavens you had the sense to hire one,” Michael said with a sigh of relief.

“Who says I hired the fragger? Come on move your hoop. There’s no telling if we can actually get through the bloody streets,” the elf said.

“I’ll just hang my arm out the window and they’ll get out of the way,” Juan said laconically.

“We can get seven people in the car?” Geraint wondered.

“It means some people sitting on others’ laps in the back, but don’t waste my time and yours making no jokes. Now move your rakking arses!” Streak yelled at him.

Geraint might be the employer of the pair, but he wasn’t going to argue. They ran out the back of the cafe, piled into the car, and started what was obviously going to be a tortuous and uncomfortable journey to the airport.

“Just exactly where are we going?” Serrin asked. “I don’t know, and it doesn’t much matter!” Streak said. “Nnnngh,” he added suddenly, wrenching the wheel sharply to avoid a stray pedestrian who fell into their path from one of the packed sidewalks. “We can hop across to Padova, it’s only twenty klicks or so, and collect our thoughts there.”

Geraint nodded. “We’ll find an airport hotel and figure out what we’re going to do.”

And that is what they did, though a drive that should have taken a few minutes took almost an hour, with some streets so jammed with hysterical people that backtracks and detours became inevitable. The longer the journey got, the jumpier everyone became.

“I think we’re being followed,” Michael said anxiously, looking out the back window for the umpteenth time.

“No, we aren’t,” Juan informed him. “I’ve been watching in the mirrors. It’d be impossible to follow anyone anyway. In all this, I mean.”

“We could be astrally traced.”

“I don’t detect anything, and believe me I’ve been trying. I’m actually quite good at that sort of thing,” Serrin said, grim-jawed. “Years of practice.”

“Sometimes paranoia can be a definite advantage,” Michael said more happily.

“Its only paranoia if it isn’t real,” Serrin grumbled and said no more about it. Kristen was looking dubiously from one to the other as they spoke, but made no comment of her own.

“Poor Raoul,” Xavier chuckled. “Boy, did he catch it in the hoop. What a frying.”

“You know,” Streak said, “we were amazingly lucky he Azzies turned up.”

“Yeah, right, their bullet missed Kristen’s head by a hair. Real lucky,” Serrin shot back.

“Nah, think about it, you pillock. If they hadn’t been there the Inquisition would have had you on toast. We didn’t have a line of fire and you didn’t see them. But the Inquisition boys saw the Azzies and they came first in the firing line-before us.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Serrin said.

“To those guys that blood magic stuff is real heresy. Big-time bad stuff They wanted the Azzies even more than they wanted us. Or you.”

“Yeah, but they did want me,” Serrin said, “and that isn’t paranoia. I heard the mage’s words.”

“Yeah, that was big-time,” Streak replied. “Some stunt, that barbecuing across the square. Now why don’t you frag people like that?”

“I don’t have years of training with the Inquisition, if that’s the right term. It still seems odd to me.”

“Oh, you can call them the Inquisition all right,” Xavier declared with some feeling. “We know those guys, yes. Don’t forget they got their start in our back yard. Nadal, Acquaviva, all those guys with Ignatius. The Jesuits got damned near ninety per cent of their membership from Spain in the early days. It was policies that said they had to go to the Pope and have their central place in Italy, but it was originally a Spanish deal.”

“You do know these boys,” Streak said.

“Yeah, and not just in Aztlan. Seen ‘em in the South American states too, Xavier grunted. “They don’t care much for the Amazonians either. And they don’t care for their own brethren.”

“Nothing like a bit of that ole-time religion for making people kill each other in exciting, brutal, and deeply imaginative ways,” Streak declared gleefully.

“I thought that was your number,” Serrin said.

“Hey, be fair!” Streak protested, absolutely seriously. “The name of our game is to lake out your enemy as quickly as possible-before he does the same to you. With these Azzies, its torture and outright bloody sadism. Take a look at some of the stuff those people invented as torture instruments sometime; there’s a museum in Amsterdam where they’ve collected a lot of it, Makes me shudder just to think about it. Sick frags. Real gratifying to know God guided their hands as they crafted them so exquisitely.”

“Point taken,” Serrin acquiesced.

At long last they managed to reach the outskirts of the airport. Despite the lateness of the hour, the place was flooded with people panicking to get out of the city. If they’d been wanting to book a regular flight out of there they wouldn’t have had a prayer, but with their own aircraft all they had to do was dispense several large sums to the officials by way of flight clearance and get themselves whisked out of the VIP lounge and on to the runway verge.

“You wanna make the hop to Padova or just frag off somewhere else?” Streak asked. He was almost the only one, save for Juan sitting next to him in the front of the vehicle, who didn’t have to stretch his legs from the discomfort of being crammed into the car, which was not really designed to take seven adult passengers.

“Let’s take the shortest option,” Geraint decided. So they stayed within the Veneto and made the short haul, Michael booking rooms in an airport hotel as they went, and the journey was a lot faster than the car ride through the narrow streets of Venice. But with the clock showing a quarter to two, fatigue was beginning to catch up with them. There had certainly been enough excitement for one day. But though tired, they wouldn’t get to sleep easily and they knew it. Adrenaline was still coursing in veins too fast.

“Tomorrow’s May Day and another bloody public holiday,” Michael lamented. “And the deadline’s fast approaching.”

“So, let’s order up fifteen gallons of java and start chewing the rag.” Streak said cheerfully. “We’ll listen, eh, boys?”

“For what you’re paying us, you can talk about collecting postage stamps and we’ll listen,” Juan said, a grin on his face.

“Yeah, I’ll even take notes,” Xavier agreed, adding a few mineshaft-deep chuckles.

The combination of relief at being away from the threat of imminent danger, some light-headedness from tiredness and travel, and a swiftly delivered caffeine rush had them more bright-eyed and lively by the time the clock had passed two. The hotel room was small, Michael having booked the first on the list without worrying about details, and the air quickly grew stale from the scent of bodies and cigarettes. To Streak’s delight, Juan had also brought some rather fine export produce of Jamaica, and he knew how much could be inhaled without feeling useless in the morning. He settled back happily and breathed out with an expression of sheer delight.

“I think I have that munchies feeling,” he said. “What do you say? Let’s order a bucket of choccy biccies.”

“I don’t think Italian room service would be quite up to that. But the airport’s full of malls,” Michael said. “I bet you could find something.”

Slowly and more languidly than usual, the elf got to his feet and almost glided to the door, to search for the essential sustenance he craved.