Tabula Rasa

Part 3

Just over a week later, Calina's new found resolve to do 'whatever it took' was put to the test.  

She'd left the house early that morning for a run, after waking well before dawn. She'd tossed and turned for an hour trying to fall back to sleep before finally admitting defeat, so she'd gotten up, shoved on her workout gear and snuck out of the house.  Her time was better spent exercising and improving her stamina instead of chasing elusive sleep. She'd spent too many weeks cooped up inside and sedentary - either in Matt's apartment or in the Widows' base - and she needed to be in better shape for the battles to come.

She checked her watch as she slowed from a jog to a brisk walk on the long driveway leading to the house. She noted the time and frowned - she was minutes off her usual speed. She definitely needed to work on that.

She made her way around the side of the house to the back door. It led straight into the kitchen, where she hoped another early riser had already started brewing a pot of coffee. She was desperate for a caffeine hit before she grabbed a shower. There'd been too many sleepless nights over the past week and she was operating at a constant low level of exhaustion.

It was another thing she needed to work on. She just wasn't sure how she could banish her insomnia without Matt beside her. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since the one they'd spent together at Christmas.

She approached the back door, and paused at the sound of raised voices within. It was still early - and most of the Widows had started to enjoy sleeping late in the mornings - but judging from the racket, every Widow in the house was wide awake, sitting around the table and arguing with each other.

Something had happened.

Calina quickly yanked open the door...and the room went quiet.

Weird.

"What's going on?" she asked slowly.

"You've infected them all with your romantic bullshit," Yelena replied from her perch on the countertop. "That's what's going on."

"What?"

"I found Volkov's money man," Anya said, seemingly changing the subject. She was sat at the table with the rest of the Widows, her laptop open in front of her.

That news was a more effective energy jolt than caffeine. Calina perked up and squeezed onto the bench beside Katya. "Who is it?"

"Salvatore Ranieri. The grandson of a wealthy Count based in Naples."

Calina frowned. "Why would a member of the Italian aristocracy be funding Volkvo's faction?"

Anya leaned back in her chair and began explaining. "The Ranieris used to be a big deal, but now they're a family in decline. Not in terms of wealth, but in terms of relevance - when Italy became a republic in 1946, the recognition of nobility ceased. Salvatore probably spent his whole life hearing stories from his Grandfather about all the influence and power their family used to wield, and now they have none. From what I've been able to gather, its left Salvatore deeply angry and disaffected."

"Basically, he's a narcissistic man-child with a massive chip on his shoulder," Katya summarised.

"Sounds like an easy mark for Volkov," Calina added.

"Exactly," Anya continued. "Being part of a secret organisation that seeks to manipulate world events from behind the scenes would definitely appeal to Ranieri. There's also the small matter of him being a misogynistic man-whore."

"Why does that matter?" Calina asked, not seeing the link.

"A misogynist, with a rumoured sadistic streak and a thirst for control and dominance would probably get off on the idea of 'owning' a group of mind-controlled women."