<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic">Yvonne &amp; Luciano, discussing the assassination of his twin brother, Erlind Kohler &amp; Hamish's wareabouts.</span></div><br/><br/><span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;"><span style="color: #8080BF">Yvonne felt like a huntress, throwing him off his guard the way she had, but he was no prey.  His hand moved toward the center of her back, bringing them closer together as the spin came to a close, and her eyes, a dark green now, gave him a challenging glare.  It didn’t take him long to meet it.<br/><br/>He leaned into her, pushing away with one hand so she arched away from him, but he dropped the hand slowly so she continued with it, holding her unflinchingly with just the one appendage, and the young woman realized he was also a hunter.  Her hand slid from his shoulder to his forearm, where it attached firmly.  The other he loosed as it reached her legs somewhere far beyond her registration, but when he did so, his now free hand slipped around the extremity and brought it burning to her awareness.  He lifted her from that length, it bending at the knee for a desperate hold around his hip, her fingers barely refrained from making marks just below the man’s elbow. <br/><br/> All the while, she bowed further and further in the revers, until only her neck could continue the curve and she opened her eyes with a slow breath out, seeing the faces upon her, under flashing lights, and upside-down to her eyes.  She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes - out of fear?  Out of trust?  Cold rushed from her heavy cheeks and she knew which it had been.  Keeping her composure, she trailed her opened hand up her body, through her hair, and stretched it back above her head, pointing into a camera as it released a blindingly light into her eyes.<br/><br/>“I have crossed oceans, Frau Wójcik. There is no place in the world that I cannot reach should I lose you…. I would not want to lose the valuable information and answers I assume you have for me,” she heard him say, somewhere in the white.  The words lit a flurry of thoughts and questions and emotions she was wholly unprepared for, confusion the brightest of them all.  He was right, though, that they had business to attend to, and it was this that she used to balance herself once more as she wrangled her hold tighter, ready to move so she could stand, with dignity, again.<br/><br/>“Unless you decide to dive into the Bermuda Triangle, then I might not be able to conduct a search for you in there.”<br/><br/>He added it like a joke, but the officer had closed her hanging lips and her chest clenched around her unrestrained heart rate, forcing out of her focus how she could feel it throughout her.  She was back in control of herself.  As soon as she had it, he whipped her up, the impact on her neck nearly bringing her face to his as her hand came around to slap him on his right pectoral.  Her breath had left her again and she fought for that control one more time.   Pushing herself back and extending her leg only provided him a greater hold on her torso so she was arched solidly against him.  The woman inhaled slowly and exhaled the same, her eyes flat as she stared into his, relaying no emotion except, possibly,  the intensity of whatever lay below the surface, like frustration.<br/><br/>Finding the courage for the words, rather than the words themselves, she spoke steadily for his awareness more than the bustling around them that might overhear.  “You’ll have no need to look when we’re finished with our exchange this night, Triangle or no.”  When he would finally let her go, the commander would smile graciously to their audience, and bow her head humbly before heading back toward the booth, alone.<br/></span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">_____________________________________________</div><br/><br/><span style="color: #BFBFBF"> <span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">“You’ll have no need to look when we’re finished with our exchange this night, Triangle or no.’’</span></span><br/><br/>She let go of him. Correction. He let go of her. He watched her make her way back to their private booth, the motion detectors on the sliding doors forcing them open to give her access to their comfort zone. Luciano raised his chin up and clenched his fists as he bit the inside of his mouth, almost making the soft skin bleed. He did not look at the audience nor did he pay any form of attention to the men with the ‘ouch she did it’ expression on their faces. Wasn’t that all they got anyway? Peasants dressed in luxury costumes, he thought as he regained composure and followed the trail of the scent Yvonne has left behind. He followed it to the sliding doors. He immediately walked to a table where he picked up the remote control in order to lower the volume of the music echoing within the walls of their private booth.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"So, Captain, what information is it you seek from me?”</span> She asked haughtily, practically pouncing into the booth.”<br/><br/>He threw a gaze her way and advanced towards the table which hosted varieties of drinks to pour himself a glass of gin. <span style="font-style: italic">“Very well played. You’ve done great out there!”</span> He commented, sipping on his drink as he eyed the woman in question. <span style="font-style: italic">“Would you prefer to head somewhere else to discuss our meeting tonight, Frau Wójcik? I wish not to hold you any longer in a setting that may not be to your likings.”</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"No, I'm quite fine where I am, thank you. Aren't you, Captain Grazzienelli."</span> It wasn't a question. Her eyes may have been innocent, but nothing else about her was. She was the huntress once again. "This booth is private enough and you don't need to go to any great lengths finding me again. Sit. We have business to attend to."<br/><br/>Did she just order him to sit down? Unbelievable. The audacity was blinding, he thought. He chuckled to himself and shook his head, lowering his gaze to the ground for what seemed to be a second or two. He never underestimated the woman. The dance was all about wanting to know who he was dealing with. Strangely enough, he could feel that she trusted him out there. This was probably one form of truth Yvonne may not want to accept. Her frustration though, he thought, was quite amusing to say the least…<br/><br/>Toxic even.<br/><br/>When he seemed unable to respond - whether his hunter’s obstinence was also an influence or not - she continued.  <span style="font-style: italic">“Fine then, I messaged you to meet me here, and I already gave the content of your brother’s letter to you, so it is my turn, I suppose.”</span>  Officer Wojcik, adjusted in her seat, trying to calm herself with the distraction so she could conduct this conversation more reasonably…<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Rest assured, I do not need to look for you anywhere, indeed.”</span> Luciano smiled, revealing a set of white teeth as he looked away from Yvonne, silently trying to recover from whatever the heck just happened out there on the dance floor. He felt the huntress in her in return, and the taste was bitter, yet there was no situation he could not survive through. A primal feeling. Challenge was the purest form of intense pleasure in his own dictionary. It  turned the man into an unstoppable beast. Obstacles fought it him, they did not frighten him. <br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“You’ve given me the contents, I agree, but you haven’t answered my question yet. Don’t you remember?”</span> Luciano turned around on his heels, meeting the woman’s eyes with a serious expression on his own. He parted his lips slightly and briefly licked the corner of his lips prior to clearing his throat. <span style="font-style: italic">“You were … somehow lost … out there. But please, do ask your question. One for you and one for me.” </span>The man gave the woman a wink and joined her in the booth, taking a seat across from her, arms crossed over his chest.</span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">_____________________________________________</div><br/><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080BF">Officer Wojcik lowered her chin, trying to glare where she did not feel the need.  She eventually sighed, and gave in.  “Quid pro quo.  Seems fair enough.  Your brother…” the woman started.  The pause gave them both a moment to let his image sink in, making the brief silence longer than intended.  Honestly, it was a subconscious stall while she pieced together her question, like rolling the codex into place on a briefcase.  “He was transferred into the German regime for a purpose, I imagine.  He mentioned that he was not a good fellow, which seems to align with many military personnel, but I’d like to know…” she trailed off, switching from Deutch to Italian, “What exactly was his expertise that involved him in his missions with Oberstlutenant Kohler?”<br/><br/>It was a heavy question.  It gave the captain more information than she might get back in return, but it was important, and the reports were too ambiguous for her to get a clear reading herself.  It was completely possible the twin brother of the man in question had no knowledge of the others goings-on once he joined the Nazi party, so she opened with it.  If that were the case, he could be of no help regarding the night he died.  It wasn’t the end of her questions even if that were the case, so she kept her face as neutral as she could manage it.  Afterall, this was just another soldier they were discussing, wasn’t it?<br/><br/>Only it wasn’t, and she knew he wasn’t.  “Oberstleutnant Kohler was the man leading the mission on the, the church,” she had to refrain from a snarl as she said this, “and though I did not know it at the time, shortly after: the clinic, where he was shot and he fell.”<br/><br/>The woman looked at the table, taking in what little air she could to maintain herself. Then, she looked back up into the eyes that mirrored those in her mind, yet were so different on their own behalf.  “I will not lie and tell you he died honorably, a hero.  He was taken down by an unknown assailant and one with a personal vendetta, I believe, despite - no<span style="font-style: italic"> in favor</span> of the accuracy of the shooter. Which means something connected to his history.  Moreover, due to the circumstances of the mission, I believe it to be in connection with the oberstleutnant.  How else would the assassin know the movements of the operation and Officer Fab- Grazzienelli’s inclusion, who had not been selected until the day prior?  If not for the… emotion of the wound, I would have suspected the bullet may have been intended for Officer Kohler.  However, given the <span style="font-style: italic">evidence</span>, I am not so inclined.<br/><br/>“I know that’s probably more than you were expecting to hear.  I apologize.  Let me add in one other question, however:  How did your brother meet Kohler, and why would the oberstleuntenant want him dead?”  Her eyes were as a pale as ghosts as she stared into those of the man across from her. This was an inquiry and she was prepared for any answers since they could only lead her to one destination; the killer.</span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">_____________________________________________</div><br/><br/><span style="color: #BFBFBF">Luciano listened to the woman closely. He let her finish what she needed to say before answering with any word. When she said that his brother died honorably, the Italian smiled weakly and bowed his head. Not only he appreciated the humbleness in those words, but also appreciated her efforts when she continued in his mother language and he was quite marvelled at how well she spoke Italian. It was so … penetrative. If his eyes ever left her face for a second, that was when he closed his eyelids momentarily to swallow back any tears that threatened to water his eyes at the mention of the day his brother was assassinated. The man did not mourn yet, in a more proper way at least. He has been drinking, hoping that alcohol will make him forget, gambling even. For now, he just needed to isolate himself and scream as loud as he could... He needed to do something with the anger that has been tormenting him since.<br/><br/>When his eyes fluttered open to look at her, he felt a certain one-sided connection with the woman sitting across from him. He did not care if it was mutual. The connection was simply there. His brother was with her during his last moments on earth and that alone made the man uneasy in her presence because there was comfort still, as though his brother was standing behind him, cold hands on his shoulders, whispering:It was okay to be speaking to this woman. Luciano knew right then that he will have to withdraw one day, from this whole thing and distance himself as far as possible from anyone who could have come across his brother, his mother included. It was only a matter of time before he sails his ship as far away from Europe as possible. He wanted this distance. No. He craved it. He would never be surprised if he lived a solitary life. He would never have to worry about losing someone ever again.<br/><br/>He could still feel his twin brother. Somewhere out there. Not completely gone but not really there. His emotions even in death, on the same level as his own. Luciano never felt so disturbed in his life. At that very moment he just wanted to use the world as a punching bag to release all the pain and anger. It took him a great amount of psychological strength to keep those emotions under control before this woman.<br/><br/>As much as he wanted any information possible about his brother’s killer, giving this woman whatever documents he possessed would mean sending her straight into the dragon’s lair. A mortal danger. The truth was his to find. He reached into his blazer’s front pocket for a box of cigarettes, a tremor passing through his right hand. Decisions. He needed to make a decision and fast. He sat the box aside on the table and interlaced his fingers together on the surface of that table, his grey eyes narrowing as they shifted between the woman and the movement in her arm. <br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Have you ever lost someone you truly cared for and loved,  Frau Wójcik?”</span> Luciano did not expect an answer in return. He shrugged it off and continued.<span style="font-style: italic"> “To answer you, my brother was never transferred under the Nazi regime. My brother and I were born in Germany, here in Munich.”</span> The man coughed into his hand and lowered his gaze to the table, a touch of sorrow could clearly be witnessed on his face if one was to look closer, even with his eyes lowered. But he made sure not to give the woman too much access to those private thoughts. Those thoughts were his. No one had any rights to them. It was unfortunately that resistance and suppression of emotions that made his pain even greater. Yet he spoke in a low, soft tone, debating silently over if he should hold the door open a little bit for the woman as she took a glimpse into his past. So he continued in that same tone, a tone he would never have used in the presence of strangers. A tone only reserved to those he knew, like family for example.<br/><br/>A pair of eyes like the combined color of cirrus clouds with their reflection in the sea were raised to look at Yvonne. <span style="font-style: italic">“I am German of birth. I have lived here until the age of fourteen. It was then that I have made an essential decision to return to the home of my ancestors and devote my life to the Regia Marina. My brother remained here, giving everything he had to your Fuhrer. Now you see why we were on two different sides of the same coin. The day my brother was assassinated I knew that something went wrong. We twins can just feel it. I had just arrived from America to Naples. I was driving the following day and I had an accident which rendered me in a coma for a week. This is why I could not attend his funerals. I am sure you’ve noticed. Upon my return to Germany to investigate what happened, I found the letter he left for you. But it was not the only thing that I found. There was this diary,” </span><br/><br/>Luciano paused and frowned, looking away to take a deep breath, one hand rubbing his chin. <span style="font-style: italic">“-unfortunately I believe that Fabiano had torn out most of the pages except some where he mentioned the name of a certain Isolde Dev- Dever … Ah, I can’t remember. But this woman, he stated that she was helping the Jewish by hiding them and that he signed up for some … some task where he was to investigate the situation. Then ... there was this strange photo of a man between one of the pages. My brother had made sure to attach it  to one of the blank pages. I saw the name of this person written on the photo but I do no recall what it was. It’s up there in my hotel room. I also have with me this audio-cassette of a recording. A conversation between two men, and-” </span><br/><br/>Luciano paused. He would not want to give the woman too much information just yet. Whatever that he heard in that audio-recording he decided to simply forget it. There was no possible way any of that was true. Luciano needed a moment to collect his thoughts, her last question pacing around in his brain. <span style="font-style: italic">‘How did your brother meet Kohler, and why would the oberstleutnant want him dead?’</span> He looked away from Yvonne and as he did, the man accidentally knocked off the bottle of gin. It spilled over the table and the liquid may or may not have stained the Polish woman’s dress. <span style="font-style: italic">“I - I am terribly sorry, Miss.”</span> Luciano swiftly rose to his feet, picking up a napkin while turning his attention to Yvonne not knowing what to do with the cloth. He sighed, pressing his lips together and frowned, shaking his head.</span></span>