50 in 50

"Very good. You're a bright lot and you'll learn fast. Now this is a wee bit of a hod, as anyone who knows about such things will tell you, but that is because the bricks are not the normal, weak, crumbling things that you are used to in your foreign lands."

The men listened, puzzled, and Giulio tried to appear as unknowing as the others. The mere fact that no one understood their instructor did not seem to bother him nor halt the flow of his words.

"Time was when you had to carry a great hod just heaped with bricks, but now there are but three in a load. Why, you might ask, only three? Well I'll be happy to tell you. There are but three because they're bloody heavy, that's why, seeing as how they are now the Irish Standard Brick and made of solid granite and good for the centuries. Just pick one up — if you can that is, you there, Tony my lad, smile away, but this is no bag of pasta, that's it. Touch of the old hernia there if you don't learn to lift better…"

"Paddy," a voice called out. "I need a pair of brawny lads to unload a lorry. Got any to spare?"

"They're a puny lot and you can have them all. Take what you will for I despair of ever making good union hod carriers out of any of them."

The newcomer stood behind them and pointed to the nearest man. "You then, Tony, come-o with me-o. Got that? And you too, Tony." He jabbed a finger at Giulio and waved him over. Giulio went through a pantomime with him, of pointing to his chest and nodding and so forth, then followed meekly. Excited.

Through a small gate and then another. Towards a great, window-less building that dominated all the others around it. From high on the wall, standing forth on hulking white insulators, great electric cables reached out to a tall pylon and beyond. This was it!

"Grand sight, isn't it, Tony? Nothing like that back in the land of pasta, is there? But work first then. Boxes off lorry-o, on to handcart. And bloody smart if you don't mind. Like this. Got it?"

It did not take long. The lorry pulled away and two men pushed off the handcart. "More lorry, got that?" their guide shouted, waving and pointing at the ground at the same time. "Take a kip and we'll be back."

The drizzle had stopped and the sun was out. Giulio's companion curled against the wall and was instantly asleep. Giulio pulled a blade of grass that was growing from a crack in the paving, chewed on it, and looked around. No one in sight, very lax, but the Irish were always this way. Their weakness, and he had been instructed how to take advantage of it. Look around. He strolled towards the high wall nearby and to the small door bearing the legend KEEP OUT — POWER PLANT PERSONNEL ONLY.

Did he dare? Why not, that was what he was here for, sooner or later he would have to make the attempt. The door was locked but he recognized the brand of lock; he had been well instructed on it. The lockpick was concealed behind his belt buckle and dropped into his fingers at a touch. Still no one in sight. Insert, lift, press. . turn.

The door swung open. He was through in a second and it closed behind. A brightly lit passage stretched away before him, — his heart beat like a hammer in his chest. Carry on, he could do nothing else. Down the corridor. Doors. All closed. Numbered. They could be anything. Then, another one. He stopped still, quavering at the sign on it.

TECHNICAL MANUALS STORE.

He Jiad done it! The same kind of lock, twist and open, darkness beyond, a glimpse of shelves before he closed the door behind him. Grope for a light switch, there, flick it on…

"Do come in, Giulio," the man said. "Sit down, here across the desk from me. Cigarette? No, I forgot, you don't smoke, do you."

Numb, unbelieving, Giulio slid into the chair and tried not to gape at the smiling man on the other side of the desk. He wore a uniform of some kind, three pips on his shoulder straps, and nodded in a most friendly manner across his tented fingers. "There, that's better," he said. "I suppose you're CIA, but not career I hope. Could I have your correct name?"

Giulio finally found his voice. "Scusi, signore, no cap—"

"Please, Giulio, don't waste our time. You see we found this in your pocket. We do make searches, you know." He held up a blue matchbook with white lettering that read UNITED STATES NAVY.

Giulio gasped and his spine softened and he slumped even more.

"No cooperation? Oh dear, oh dear, but you are being difficult. My name is Power, Captain Power. And yours? Oh well, if I must."

The captain came around the desk and in a sudden lightning motion secured Giulio in an unbreakable grip. He even managed to have a hand free with which he pressed Giulio's fingers onto a white card on the desk; fingerprints appeared on it an instant later. Power released Giulio, took the card by the edge and looked at the prints critically, nodded, then dropped it through a slot in the desk's top.