A Little Night Music

"Begone, all you shod and shady senators!

Give out the good, leave out the bad evil cries.

I challenge the mighty titan and his troubadours!

And with a smile...

I'll take you to the Seven Seas of Rhye!"

-Queen, "

The Seven Seas of Rhye

"

A few days later, Denise Cole had returned home from school, when her parents informed her that Julie Equals had stopped by and left a crate in the garage and a package at her bedroom door for her, with instructions to open the package first. She'd thought he'd just meant 'a second, really big package,' until she looked in the garage and saw a giant wooden crate. Her father had pried the boards loose with a crowbar and taken out the item meant for him and her mother, but per Julie's instructions, wouldn't ruin the surprise. Denise thought it looked big enough to carry one of those old-style giant-screen TVs, from before they knew how to make them thinner.

The box in front of her bedroom door was three-feet square and had her name and which end of the box was "up" written on the top in a handwriting that she didn't recognize. Denise opened the door and slid the package across the carpet and into her room. Her parents were much more respectful of her privacy since their talk with Julie, and didn't go into her room unless she asked or didn't respond for longer than a decent teenage sulk should last.

Once the door was closed behind her, Denise found a pair of scissors and carefully cut open the packing tape. Julie had given her no indication that something like this was coming, and she was worried about opening it too hastily and damaging whatever was inside. The first item, on top of a bed of fabric, was a hard leather cylinder with yellow sticky-note attached, which read "Open scroll case by unscrewing either end. (Go ahead and break the seal and read it. It's for you.)"

Denise had played D&D once in a while; although, when she visited the Equals house, Troy preferred to run "

Call of Cthulhu

" for her, Susan, occasionally Julie, and a couple of Denise and Susan's friends. She'd heard of scroll cases coming up in games, but this was the first one she'd ever seen. She followed the instructions and pulled from it a parchment scroll, wrapped in ribbon, and sealed with wax. The symbol impressed into the wax was one that she knew well: the crest of La Familia de San Finzione!

Denise practically squealed before approaching the scroll even more surgically with the scissors, seeking to break the wax seal, but preserve the symbol on it. Inside was a hand-calligraphed message:

Ms. Denise Cole Tacoma Washington

Dear Ms. Cole,

Greetings. I am Contessa Helena de San Finzione, Monarch of the Sovereign County and Nation-State of San Finzione. We briefly spoke on the telephone once, and I apologize that my dearly beloved friend's tendency to give out my personal phone number as a joke conflicted with an important Matter of State at that time.

As I write this, I am recovering from a serious injury, during which, the aid and company of my family and friends has been greatly therapeutic. Some very important people in my life, including Our Mutual Friends, came to my side in a time of crisis; putting on hold their own lives for the sake of mine.

Through our conversations, I became aware of yourself, and the deeds that you have performed so that I could be with my true family during my time of need. Although you may have thought them insignificant at the time, your actions have been of great and meritorious service to The People of San Finzione, and to La Contessa directly. Please find an official Royal Commendation, framed and ready for display. As this letter has taken on a more personal tone than intended; you may wish to show that to your friends, rather than this message, if any of them question that you know me or where you got all these things.

As a token of San Finzione's and my own personal gratitude, please accept the gifts enclosed with this scroll and commendation. Packed amongst the various t-shirts, please find Our National Flag, an iPad, several gift cards, some of our native arts and crafts, souvenirs, posters of Castle Finzione and my royal portrait; and the current generations of Xbox, PlayStation, and Wii. Should you need a new TV for them, the Best Buy card should more than cover it.

Also, in the large crate, in addition to the big item, you should find two crates of various wines from the San Finzione Vineyards. There is a regular crate for your parents, and a non-alcoholic crate for you and your friends. I've marked the ones that should be kept chilled with a "C" on the cork, so you can impress them with your knowledge of fine wines. Our Mutual Friend tells me you won't be able to use the biggest item for another year, but while I was getting hers, I thought "Why not?" I hope you like the color. Our Friend said that you're a Purple Girl too, so you should. The royal color of San Finzione is Emerald Green. So, you've probably seen in photos that I wear that color often, but only because I kind of have to. I'm a Purple Girl at heart, myself.

You're welcome to tell others how I heard of you and how you got all these things. However, as you're doubtlessly aware, Our Mutual Friends highly value their privacy, and would want us both to leave their names out of it. Tell people you wrote an essay or won a contest, or something. I'll back you up. We both know the truth, and I thank you again for the vital duties you have unselfishly performed in the service of my grateful nation, and hope that you and your family will visit San Finzione soon, so that I may meet you in person. I've recently re-learned how much better that is than talking online.

Should you choose to do so, free open-ended round-trip Contessa Class tickets on Air Finzione will be available for you, your parents, and a friend at any ticket counter; and I would be honored if you chose to be my guests at the castle for your stay.

With My Eternal Gratitude,

Contessa Helena de San Finzione

Denise grinned as she went through the t-shirts. There was one with a picture of the castle, one of La Familia's crest, one with the patch of La Squadra de Ultimados, and a Crass shirt. The iPad was the big temptation to open first, but there was also the thick envelope of gift cards, and the big crate in the garage. Denise settled on opening the posters first, finding out what the big item was, then coming back for the smaller items. The posters were autographed, and addressed to her, with La Contessa's thanks again.

She decided the poster of her portrait was definitely going over the bed when she ran to the garage and pulled the giant crate open.

A crate of wine marked 'Non-Alcoholic,' and an empty spot where one had been sitting were on either side of a new Vespa scooter, colored metal-flake purple.

Denise's overjoyed mind remembered to text Julie and thank her. She also texted that she'd be happy to take care of things again any time they needed. After she hit send, she thought for a moment about sending another text. The number was still in her phone, and it would only be polite.

She decided that the worst that could happen would be that it came back blocked. She went with a simple "Thank You" and sent it. The phone said that it had been sent. She waited for the message that the text was undelivered to come back, but after several seconds, it didn't.

Denise's first thought had been that after she'd been attacked by the psycho stalker the news said, "was always a quiet man," there might be someone watching her incoming calls and messages, but then she reasoned that it probably just took longer for the block message to get back from Europe, and went back to her bedroom.

While she was plugging in the iPad, she got a text.

"Thank YOU, Denise. I've got a LOT of messages and emails to catch up on right now, and can't promise how good I'll be about replying; however, feel free to message any time. Most of my friends call me Helena. A few still use Helen, and I'm sure they always will, but I prefer Helena."

Denise laid back on her bed, clutched the phone to her chest with both hands, and grinned.

* * *

Contessa Helena de San Finzione read the report from the Ministry of Science as she rode in the back of a limousine, down old Irish coastal roads. Since she had business there, she'd brought Colleen with her to Ireland, and had left her in Tralee to visit her mother. The wide-open farm country left plenty of spots for an ambush or a sniper, which was why two military helicopters were escorting her, and the Finnegan farm was now secretly crawling with Ultimados. Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez sat opposite her and read the pages as she finished with them.

After a week of being examined by the top experts that San Finzione could provide, a general consensus had been reached on the Springheel video. They had already skipped to the conclusion and read their opinion that, although it was an insane idea that would involve serious advances in several fields of physics, it was entirely possible that Springheel could work. Now they were reading the individual scientists' findings for more information.

The driver came to a stop at the farmhouse. Generalissimo Ramirez got out of the limousine first, the sound of chickens filling the air once the door opened. He grabbed La Contessa's wheelchair, and offered to help her into it. She refused his offer and got out of the car herself, wincing as a spike of pain went through her left shoulder. She made a mental note to take a Percocet when they got back into the limo. She then walked a couple of steps to the chair, which Maisson had assured her that she would be done with soon, when her stitches came out.

"We could've gotten one of the Ultimados to push me," Helen told him as she looked around and saw no other people outside. "How many have us surrounded?"

"Twenty, if we count the snipers in the choppers. They are busy, I can do this."

Ramirez began pushing her toward the house, when a woman in her early 50s, dressed in black, came out, shouting for someone in the house to stay inside. A breeze blew off Tralee Bay as Helena waited for her to approach. She stepped forward, stopped a few feet in front of Helena, and said nothing. The look in her eyes was one of someone expecting to be shot at any moment.

"Molly Finnegan?" Helena asked.

"Aye," she replied. "An' I know who you are, o' course, Countess. Whate'er you're going to do to me, please leave the children out of it."

"I just want to talk." Helena gestured to the helicopters patrolling the farm and the land around it. They were far enough away that the sound of the engines didn't impede the conversation. "They're here for everyone's safety. I need to have a word with you about your husband."

Molly gave a fearful sigh; she walked over to an outdoor chair against the corner of the house. Ramirez wheeled Helena closer, surveying their surroundings.

"Before we talk, I need to tell ya," Molly said, looking around. "The man who came ta talk ta Gar... Frank. He told me that if I tell ya anythin' about him, even if ya somehow force me ta tell..." She turned back toward the inside of the house for a moment. "He'd destroy ev'rythin' left that I love." She began sobbing and buried her face in her hands before continuing. "He said he'll let me keep the money." She looked up at Helena with tears streaming down her face. "Tha' I'll need it... ta try an' find... some measure o' happiness in the world... when he's done..."

Helena nodded her understanding and spoke in Gaeilge.

"I won't ask about him, then. But, you know who your husband was before? You knew him when he was Frank Morgan?" She motioned for Ramirez to push her closer and reached out to pat her on the shoulder. Molly recoiled from her touch.

"Yes, I did," she responded in Gaeilge as well. "I'm sorry, Countess, I know you mean well, coming out here and talking like this; and I've no earthly reason to be angry with yourself, and every reason to be angry with him, but..."

"I lost my husband, too," Helen said, sympathetically, while withdrawing her hand. "I'd have given anything for there to be someone I could hold responsible. Someone to blame, other than myself." She offered the woman a cigarette, and she took it. With the breeze blowing, they were hard to light, until Ramirez produced a Zippo lighter and lit both of them. Helen offered him one as well, but he refused. She turned back to Molly. "Hate me all you want. I'm used to it."

"I don't blame you, of course, Countess. Not rationally, anyway. Rationally, I blame him; the man I can't talk about."

"Everything I know about him tells me that he's somehow watching, and probably listening, isn't he?" Molly nodded. "And I'm certain that if he doesn't know what we're saying, he's got translators who will tell him every word, so I won't ask you anything that will put your children in danger."

Molly's tears subsided, and she nodded to Helena to continue.

"How long ago did your husband get sick?"

"Six years. His hearing started going, and he'd always had headaches, but he figured it was just signs of getting old. He avoided doctors, was worried that if he was put in some computer system, someone might connect him to the bad old days. When the trembling in his hand and leg started, he tried all kinds of crazy herbs and oils and things; spent most of the savings left from those days before risking it. They told him it was too late by then."

"And then the man we can't talk about came into the picture, I'm guessing. Don't answer that. I wasn't asking. This question is about Frank, not him: Do you know how much my life was worth?"

"Frank said we'd get five million if he succeeded, one million if he failed. I still begged him not to go! But The Man made good on it, I was contacted with the account information the next day, and the money was there. But I'd give it all back if Gar..." She started crying again.

"I understand that part, too," Helen replied, thinking that he wouldn't have gone through with the money transfer if he'd been planning to harm the Finnegan family. Though Helena suspected that a million Euros was as much a drop in the bucket to this man as it was to her. He was insane, but she wasn't sure to what level, and there was no guarantee that he wouldn't kill them afterwards, simply for a laugh. "So, he's watching us; or listening to us, or both. He knew I'd come to you eventually. Did he leave a message?"

"Aye," Molly said, switching back to English, and producing an older-looking flip-phone burner, much like the one Helen had left in the box for the Equals and Susan. "I'm supposed to give ya this, an' call him when ya leave. He said to have yer people check it over, but it'll ring the next night, at exactly 11:57 PM San Finzione Time, for exactly ten seconds. An' if anyone but Contessa Helena de San Finzione answers, he'll hang up, an' it'll never ring again."

Helen took the phone and signaled her thanks.

"You're supposed to call after I leave," Helena asked. "He knew I would come to you, but he couldn't have known when. So, I'm guessing that the recording equipment has been in place for a while." Molly nodded. "He'll be able to hear and see me now?" She nodded again. "Good. That means I get to give him MY message before he gives me HIS."

Helena cleared her throat and spoke with a raised voice.

"Hi, there. It's me. Thanks for the Jimenez thing, we went with it. I'm looking forward to your call, but I expect you plan to do most of the talking there, so let me get this out now: You're done with these people. And any other innocents you're thinking it might be fun to bring into this. If you want to do the cat and mouse game with me, I'll play. And I'll win. And I won't be dragging you to Arkham Asylum so you can break out and we can do it all again next week. Men have thought that their power and status protected them from me in the past. They don't think anything, anymore. If they could, they'd tell you what a mistake it is to come at me through others.

"Right now, I'm just annoyed at you. If you put any more innocents in the crossfire, I'll upgrade that to Upset. There are a couple of levels after Upset, but that's the point at which our 'How Fucked Are You' packages begin. Talk to ya soon. To reiterate, leave these people alone or I'll make your head my new ashtray! Ciao!"

She waved to the air and signaled Ramirez that she was ready to go back to the car.

"You have my condolences, Mrs. Finnegan." Helen said as Ramirez started to turn her chair around.

"Wait," Mrs. Finnegan said. "My husband's... body. When'll it be returned, so we can..." She began choking on the words. Helen signaled Ramirez to stop and turn her back around.

"Mrs. Finnegan, I was attacked by an obsessed stalker and anti-science nut named Carlos Jimenez. That man's body is evidence in the investigation of the attempt on my life. When La Policia are done with him, I'll make sure he comes back to you, but I can't promise when that will be."

The older widow nodded her gratitude to the younger, and Helen and Ramirez departed.

* * *

The next night, Contessa Helena de San Finzione was practicing walking unaided from her bed to the balcony railing and back, working on keeping her leg strength after two weeks of being mostly idle in the wheelchair.

Running had been the first survival skill that Helen had learned, and thanks to her childhood, she was exceptionally good at it. It was what she would have done if she'd had another half-second to think before Morgan had been upon her. In high school, two things kept her from going out for the girls' track team: Wade not allowing extra-curricular activities, and the way the coach looked at her.

Once Wade was gone, she'd found the school language clubs, and threw herself into them instead; but by then, she was able to do The Thing and had experienced enough "special sleepovers" with Julie to understand why the coach looked at her that way. Helen had decided she wasn't so creepy after all; kind of hot, really. And so, shortly before graduation, although the coach never had Helen on her team in the field, Helen certainly had the coach on her team in the girls' showers.

She looked at the clock on the burner phone that she was holding. It was 11:28. She'd had her people go over the phone. It was a perfectly ordinary disposable phone, with no fingerprints but her own and Mrs. Finnegan's. It had been purchased with cash a month before, at a convenience store in Tralee that recycled their surveillance videos every two weeks. The clerk working that day had been let go shortly after.

"Track the clerk down," Helena had told her people. "Make sure she's ok. She probably won't remember him, but it's worth asking; and this guy's enough of a dick to have her killed just for seeing his face."

The clerk was unharmed, but didn't recall the customer from a job she'd quit a month ago. Helen made a mental note to let Susan know about it when they talked next; that not everything worked like

Law & Order

, where all the waitresses in busy New York diners have vivid, instant recall of "that guy in the red jacket who was in here about two weeks ago."

Her bedroom door opened, and Contessa-In-Reggenza Maria de San Finzione entered.

"Good evening, Great-Grandmama," Maria said as she entered the room, noting the little blue envelope on her nightstand that had been opened and was now propped up with the flap into a tent shape. She looked at Helena entering via the balcony doors; happy to see her on her feet again, even with wobbly steps. "How are you tonight?"

"Better, Dearest One," Helena responded with a warm smile as she made the last few steps to sit on the bed. Maria sat next to her. "How has your day been?"