1635_ Cannon Law - Eric Flint [78]
Frank sketched a salute. "Ma'am," he said, "exactly what I was saying. Between me and her family, we should be able to keep her from doing anything too strenuous."
After Frank had gotten the long cool drink he was gasping for, Sharon made another suggestion. "Would you like Ruy to come over and check out your place to advise on things like defenses and routes out in a hurry?"
"Well, sure," Frank said, frowning. "Señor Sanchez is welcome any time. But, uh, between you and Señor Sanchez that's the second warning of trouble I've had today. You think there's more to it than leaflets and rent-a-crowds?"
"Well, we are and we aren't," Sharon said, her face a perfect deadpan. "On the one hand, we can't see where everything we're seeing is leading except for trouble for the Vatican. On the other hand, there's trouble in the streets as well. And Ruy's seen at least one guy he knows is a real nasty customer, and apparently he's capable of anything"
Ruy barked a laugh. "Say rather, he will attempt anything, and the results are usually disastrous for many. Capable, outside of doggerel and philosophical musings, he is not. But in bungling whatever business he is about, he is sure to cause trouble. I have had one of my own operations ruined by Francisco Quevedo y Villega, and been one step ahead of an angry mob as a result."
"How will I know this guy if I see him?" Frank asked, visions of some sinister Spanish agent haunting his club flitting through his mind.
"Likely, you will not," Sanchez said. "It was purely good fortune that I spotted him when and where I did, and it beggars belief that he is not working for Cardinal Borja, if the evidence of the past few weeks' deeds is of any worth. It is precisely the manner of foolishness that he would attempt."
"So, Frank," Sharon said, "we're taking precautions just in case. And you have responsibilities, not just to the Committee."
"Dottora!" Giovanna said, her voice sharp, "Do not suggest that I will shirk any danger!"
Frank stifled a groan. Sharon had unwittingly pressed the Revolution Button in Giovanna's brain. "Giovanna," he said, "look at it this way. We don't have enough to face these guys in a straight fight. If we have to, we simply melt away, and come back when their attention moves on. We don't play the game by their rules, Giovanna, because if we do, we lose. We stay until it gets hot, and then we get our heads down until the trouble passes."
"Frank—" Giovanna began, her eyes starting to flash. On this subject, she wouldn't even think about hesitating to pick a fight right in front of Ruy and Ms. Nichols.
Nothing for it, Frank thought, and drew himself up. "Enough!" he said, looking her straight in the eye. "I decide the tactics. When we cannot win, we bug out. No one's going to be a martyr. No one."
Giovanna plainly didn't like it, but she had very strong reflexes where some things were concerned. She'd been raised to be a dutiful daughter and some day a dutiful wife. Frank hated using that against her, but on some issues—like her probable willingness to stand on a barricade and defy a regiment of cavalry with nothing but cobblestones and raw courage so as to be a Martyr of the Revolution—he figured the payoff was worth acting like some domineering asshole. Raised as a commune hippie he might have been, but if it came to a choice between dumping his dad's principles in the crapper or letting Giovanna get shot, he didn't really have to think too hard.
Giovanna subsided from the rant she had been building up to. But Frank could tell, from the way her lips thinned and she glared at him, that