Page 84 of The Battle of Maddox
I nodded. [I’m Aaron Donner, and this is—]
[Maddox Jones, don’t think I don’t recognize that face.] He laughed hard as he interrupted me. [I’m Ford Whittier.]
I signed as I spoke, “Ford Whittier, this is Agent Smoke Gillam.”
Smoke stuck out his hand. “Thank you. Sorry about the mess that your extraction caused. Not sorry about the Ducati though. I’ve always wanted one.”
Ford flipped him off again. [You’re just lucky I can read lips and have a text to speech on my phone.]
“The whole reason you had to be extracted was your lip-reading prowess.” Smoke leveled a finger at him. “And these two gentlemen will be more than happy to assist you in getting all that information in your head on to paper properly.”
[You promised me a shower.] The words were fast and furious. [I want my shower first. I’m not doing another thing until I can get the feel of that foul human off my person.]
“Fair enough.” Smoke nodded. “You guys can show him to one of the bathrooms. Also, why are you both shirtless—no. I take that back. Just go get dressed the rest of the way.”
“We’re going to Milan now, right?” I asked. “No more detours to other countries?”
He looked at his watch. “We’ll be on the ground at noon. Buckle in, we’re going to take off in a few minutes.”
I stared at him. “You think that bike is going to stay upright when we takeoff.”
“Oh crap!”
Maddox
The limousine dropped us at the front of the hotel in Milan, and the four of us climbed out. For the first time in weeks, there were no crowds to push through, no photographers’ cameras going off, no one desperate for an autograph.
It was lovely. I also knew it was perk of having flown in on Air CIA. We wouldn’t see that again.
Ora, Holland, and Rand were waiting in the lobby for us though. As soon as we were through the door, they beelined for us and wound up in this huge hug thing that involve Smoke and Ford and a lot of sign language.
Also, Ora cursing in Italian. I hadn’t realized he was that proficient.
“Seriously, we were about an hour from canceling,” Rand said. “Dietrich and I just got off the phone when Smoke called and said you were on the ground. I didn’t want to cancel, but I wasn’t taking it off the table until we saw you.”
“Here we are.” I grinned. “I’m starving. We’re in Italy. Can we get some food?”
“Absolutely,” Ora said. He turned to Ford. [Want to join us?]
“Wait,” Aaron said, signing along, “since when do you know sign language?”
“My cousin is deaf. Since we were the same age and grew up together, I learned from him. We were best friends growing up, and his hearing isn’t able to be restored at all. Not that he would want that.”
[Thank you,] Ford said, emphatically. [Just because it can be restored doesn’t mean everyone wants that. I don’t mind the idea, but even with cochlear implants, I’ll still be hard of hearing]
[Ooh, are you getting them? The science always fascinated me behind the—]
“And he’s off.” I laughed. “Ford, you shouldn’t have gotten him started on biology and science. He’s totally into it, and you’ll be stuck with that.”
[That’s not a burden.] Ford blushed bright red after he realized what he’d signed.
“I’m hungry, I want food,” Aaron said. “Ora, where the hell do we need to go to find some real food?”
He waved us out the door. “There’s a place right down the street. Il Salumaio di Montenapoleone. My grandmother took me there years ago, and it’s still there. The food is to die for, and we waited for you to get here to eat.” Ora kissed his fingers. “Perfezione!”
“Oy vey,” Smoke grumbled.
“Shut it, mister international spy. You probably had amazing Israeli cuisine last night.”
