Imelda Greco wasn't sure whether she preferred busy nights or slow nights. Around important hollidays, her hotel would be hopping. Otherwise, life was slow. Businesswise, she always preferred a busy night to a slow night: what that meant was more money for her. But of course what that also meant was that she was working harder at the front desk, whereas on a slow night she could just read a book or shoot the breeze with one of the guests. Or get bored. Very bored. Tonight was one of those boring nights.
She knew she shouldn't be bored. PCR [Partito Comunista di Roma, Roman Communist Party] leaders were meeting upstairs in one of the unused rooms. She had heard that they were planning to stage a demonstration, having been inspired by the French Republicans. Dangerous? Oh, yes. Dangerous for herself? Without a doubt. They had heard about the Praetorian Guard and what they do. They had a tendency to infect and weed out any opposition wherever they stayed. But the PCR had been meeting in her hotel for months discussing this without there being any sign the Praetorian Guard knew. With this in mind, Imelda Greco felt that she could relax.
But around midnight, the lobby door opened, and on the outside were men in uniform, with the armbands many preferred not to see. At the head of the group was a man she had seen on holo-nets but had hoped to not meet in person: Dante Gallo, Praetorian Guard duce. The man was known for being shrewed and ruthless. And since he personally was leading the squad, clearly they knew who was in the hotel.
The squad followed behind Duce Gallo to the lobby desk. He fiddled with his hand in one of his breast pockets till he pulled out a small piece of paper. He was still reading it when he stopped at the front desk, then he asked, "Are you Imelda Greco, the owner of this venue?"
Imelda Greco tried not to swallow. That would give away her nervousness, something she didn't want to do. But when she began to speak, her voice squeaked, and she cleared her throat, giving her nervousness away. "I am her," she said.
Duce Gallo smiled menacingly. "I've received word that leaders of the PCR are meeting in this hotel tonight, and that they are plotting against Consul Romano. Is this true?"
She had to buy time for them, give them a chance to escape, if that were possible. Underneath the countertop was a walkie talkie with a pager button; it wouldn't make any noise on her end, but the leaders had one in her room, and pressing the button would cause it to beep. She had an idea to get to it. "Well, if you tell me their names, I can check the registry to see if they have a room."
"You don't use a computer for your registry?"
She laughed nervously. "I don't have the fanciest hotel, if you haven't noticed." This, at least was true.
Duce Gallo began to move around the counter. "Let me see this registry," he said.
"You can't come back here!" she said instinctively...then suddenly backed up when she realized what she had just said and to who.
His piercing eyes shot into hers. "I will do what is necessary to protect my Consul," he spat. He kneeled down and saw the walkie-talkie. He grabbed it with his gloved right hand. "What is this for?"
"For communicating with my staff," she said, which was true most of the time, but not tonight.
Duce Gallo straightened up, still holding the walkie-talkie. With him so close, Imelda Greco realized just how tall he was. He had an odd smile as he looked at the walkie-talkie, a smile that frightened Imelda Greco. "I think you'll do just fine without this," Duce Gallo said. He began to squeeze the walkie-talkie. The plastic whitened under the pressure, then cracked, then crunched, collapsing inward. He let go, and the shattered device fell to the floor, little pieces scattering.
Imelda Greco was speechless after this superhuman display. She looked up at him, her face pale. The smile still on his face, Duce Gallo leaned over, nose-to-nose with the small woman, his black hair falling over one of his eyes. "Where are they?"
She stuttered, but afraid of what else he could do, confessed, "They...they...in room 214."
"Thank you for cooperating," he said. The triumphant smile snapped off his face, replaced with a Spartan iron sternness. "Colombo, Bruno, arrest this woman immediately. The rest of you, come with me."
Eight men and women followed the Duce up the stairs. A man and a woman came around the counter, the man holding handcuffs. "Turn around, hands behind your back," he said.
Imelda Greco complied. The woman slapped the handcuffs around Imelda Greco's wrists. The two then grabbed her arms, each with one hand. When the woman grabbed her, Imelda Greco shuddered. Her hand...it didn't feel natural. It felt hard, mechanical...and had a hell of a grip. She walked with them as the shouting upstairs began.