Montlaville grinned. Things were headed, at a rapid pace, precisely where she wanted them. Valdez's concern for her spouse was unexpected : she hadn't pegged the Maltese bunch for sentimentalists, and it appeared the girl was consumed with remorse in addition to despair. A valuable commodity to use in the present context, one she hadn't planned to rely on. But a degree of improvisational skills were a nice thing to add in this line of work.
She opened the folder briskly, having no time for games or deliberate teasing. It contained two files : she pushed both towards Valdez, and first gestured to the one on the right.
"This", she started, "is something you'll need to sign". She produced a pen from nowhere and handed it to Valdez. "It's a document certifiying that you've accepted to work for the Kingdom of Gallia as an intelligence operative. You will get a salary, some perks... And an obligation to serve until your unfortunate demise, or until we decide otherwise. You could read it, but I don't have the time. You will sign it, or it's prison."
The beginning of the document read : "I, Eliza Valdez de Loyola, certify that I have accepted employment with the Kingdom of Gallia and swore fealty to His Majesty the King. I understand that my duties will include..." and the rest went on, at length, about details and assorted legalities. And at any rate, Montlaville did not leave Valdez much of a moment to browse it.
She nodded to the second file. "This is your entry ticket back to Malta, as promised. I don't know whether you had told anyone about your plans to bring Enma Loyola back to your people... But if you had, it's an easy sell. You will tell them we intercepted you, brought you to our facilities, interrogated you and secured your prisoner. You will tell them that, being the crafty daredevil that you are, you managed to make a daring escape after having been able to secure some intelligence from one of our data terminals on your way out. And that intelligence you've secured is in this file. It's either outdated or non-critical : Marine Royale patrol paths for the most part, and a list of several Maltese people, of little impotance, under investigation or close watch by the GRI. It can be exploited to undertake a few runs undetected in our borders, and to warn some of your people that they're in danger. It's no Enma Loyola, but I believe it will secure your return on your home planet safely enough."
Ensign Paoli gave a warm, almost apologetic smile to Valdez. "In order for this to look credible, we... we will need to rough you up a little. Nothing permanent or traumatic, rest assured, but you will need to look like you've had to put up a good fight in your escape. Oh, and..." He looked distressingly at Montlaville. She obliged.
"Yes. The first document says you'll be with us. And that's not a ruse. As soon as you leave this place, once per month, you will find a way to contact one of our agents : you'll have several at your disposal, located in various parts of what we know of the Maltese area of operations. And there, you will tell them what you can about Maltese activities : internal power shifts, forays into enemy space, not only Gallic, plans to expand, everything at a strategic level that you can have access to. Should you fail at delivering one of those reports, or should I decide that you're lying, or half-assing it... And that document, where you admit to working with us... We'll make it public. Everywhere." Montlaville did not think it useful to speculate about the rather obvious consequences.
The ensign had decidedly found his courage and went on, in his professional but affable manner : "We need guarantees. You are a person of interest to the Kingdom now because of your ties to Malta, so we cannot possibly let you run off freely into the black. It was either that, or the punishment the Commandant evoked." He stopped short of apologising, which Montlaville was VERY grateful for.
A pause lingered. Coffee cups were dry, the air had been filtered of the smells of tobacco. All was silent, as Montlaville explored how she was to broach the issue of Loyola's... Freedom. Valdez seemed to be too busy to absorb what had just been offered to her.
Well, no point in delaying any further. "And as for Enma Loyola... Your concerns are noted. If you agree to our terms, I will personally ensure that she is freed from her cell. But I can make no promises as to how she'll make use of that freedom." All of that had at least shades of truth, and Montlaville decided it would be enough for the time being. They'd work it out together soon anyway... At which point, if her plan worked, it would all be set in stone already.
(06-14-2019, 12:25 PM)Sombra Hookier Wrote: If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.
To betray her own nation and spy for the Gallic crown? Eliza didn't like that idea one bit but it wasn't like she had any better alternative. The Maltese girl had to play along, for now at least. Maybe eventually she could find a way out of this treacherous deal she was about to accept if she played her cards right. Of course each thing had it's own time and right now her main priority was securing her physical freedom from the Gallic Royal Navy, further schemes had to wait. What the Commandant was ready to offer in terms of bargain intelligence sounded good enough to convince the National Council to at least consider hearing Eliza out on what she had to say about her unfortunate failure to bring them back her blonde wife. After a few more momentarily considerations of this troublesome situation she was in, the Maltese captive nodded and prepared to sign the document. The ensign's concern about having to make it look more convincing didn't make agreeing any easier but it was also a price she was also willing to pay for her freedom and perhaps Enma's as well. 'Roughened up' as he put it still sounded better than dying of cardamine withdrawal in her cell or worse - waiting for old age to take care of that in case her captors actually understood the condition Outcasts were put in physiologically.
"To say I have much choice would be an illusion, Commandant. If this is the price I have to pay for my redemption than so be it."
There was bitterness in her tone but she signed her name underneath the document anyways before pushing it back along with the pen to the interrogator and her assistant. The deed was done. She was now not only a traitor to Loyola but perhaps Malta as a whole as well. But as she protested out loud - it wasn't like there was much choice on her side in the matter. If only she was as versed in the political games as her blonde counterpart was she could even play this deal to her own advantage. Maybe that's why they wanted her and not Enma for the job? Thinking of Enma was irritating, difficult, bringing mixed feelings into Eliza's head which was already in a messy state. The girl puffed in annoyance from her lack of internal zen.
"So now that I've sold my name away, how do we proceed? Actually if I may have one last request before being sent off - could I at least see Enma one last time? I know it sounds silly and hypocritical considering I was going to trade her to the National Council of Malta but I at least want to say goodbye when we part ways."
It wasn't too much to ask for the captive thought. Part of her wished they'd grant her this wish, another wished they wouldn't. What could she say anyways that would matter? Or maybe this was again part of her conscience that wanted to punish her for what she intended to do but failed nonetheless. She wasn't sure. Though at this very moment nothing felt really certain to her. Her mind, her life, everything was now a big mess, bigger than what it was before all this started. Why did she have to cross the line? Were things really that bad to warrant this crazy and unsuccessful endeavor? Just more questions that made her mind a bigger mess instead of putting things in order.
Montlaville relaxed. Her job was done, and her mission, accomplished. They now had a mole inside Malta, whom they could blackmail at will and whose recruitment only cost some non-critical intel. It'd certainly result in a few missing patrols or a few stupid youths addicted to cardamine : a modest price to pay for a pair of eyes and ears within the Maltese society. All that was left for her to do was to wrap things up.
"Good. You've done as was expected of you. Let's call that your first successful action in the employ of the Crown. Congratulations !" The sentence was uttered with nary a smile. "The next part will be much easier. Lieutenant Paoli here will punch you twice : in the face, and in the stomach. Just hard enough to leave a mark, not hard enough to hurt you. Not permanently, anyway. I believe this will be a lot less painful than what your colleagues would do to you if you showed up fresh and clean on Malta after your dangerous escape. You'll barely feel a thing, tough as you seem to be". Strength, mental and physical, is something Montlaville held in very high respect, and Valdez seemed to possess at least a degree of both.
"We'll set you off in the same ship you arrived here with. You'll then be free to go about your business... As long as you remember our little agreement, that goes without saying. And as for your request... I made you a promise, and I will keep it. Let that be a lesson to you : we stick to our word. Gallia gives back."
Soon, all three of them left the conference room. It had been about time. Montlaville liked the open spaces of the command bridge, the long lines of the corridors... She resented the suffocating atmosphere of those rooms. Too intimate, too closed. She welcomed walking up the corridor again and lit up another cigarette to celebrate. This time, she offered one to Valdez as well. They soon arrived at Loyola's measly, sad little cell. Montlaville ordered the door opened, then gestured at Valdez to go in - alone.
"Go. You have ten minutes, then you're off this ship. Spend them wisely."
(06-14-2019, 12:25 PM)Sombra Hookier Wrote: If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.