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Description
The dust from a collapsed wall filled room and lungs. His heart beating furiously, desperately, in his chest he held his breath and pressed his back against the closed door. Widened eyes stared, horror-stricken, at the broken window and the cracks running all over the wall. A crouched figure waited in the window, not bothered by the remaining glass that stuck out from the frame like daggers. The light that fell into the usually dark room coated the stranger in a golden gleam.
Antonio drew the gun from his belt and cocked it at once. As if a stranger pulled at a string that was tied to him he placed himself in front of the Italian brothers squatting on the ground. He couldn't give them more than a glance but he was sure they were unharmed. Through the haze it was hard to see, though. His eyes hadn't time to focus on his target when it already began to move. The silhouette of a woman appeared to his left and he whirled around.
"Antonio!" The Spaniard's head snapped up, eyes widened with alarm. He felt the cold metal of a gun against his temple and then a dull yet all-consuming pain. Numbness spread through his body, coated his sight in blackness. He fell to the floor, limply like a doll and didn't move anymore.
Elizaveta stepped away from the man and turned her torso around, eyes flitting from side to side in their sockets in search of the other two. When someone yanked the door open and hurried steps were heard in the hallway she cursed. It wasn't like her to leave witnesses. She left the guy, called Antonio, on the ground and swiftly chased after the duo. It was a rather short hunt, she didn't break a sweat before cornering them. The door they had wanted to escape through was locked.
Lucky.
Elizaveta straightened up and cocked her gun. Now she could relax and adjust her senses to the situation. In front of her stood two young men, about the same height and almost the same hair style. Sadiq had shown her footage of his cameras before she had left so she knew Lovino Vargas certainly was one of them. She narrowed her eyes in concentration. But who?
Frankly, it didn't even matter who of both her victim was for she would kill both anyway. She felt a sting of unease at the thought, though. She never killed for free. She didn't want it, either.
All in all, it had been a miscalculation, she had to admit. A week ago she had started to collect all information about Lovino Vargas in order to find his hide-out. Since the man had been very reckless when he had left Turkey it had been a piece of cake to track him down. She was still wondering why she was supposed to kill the Italian, and no one but him, though. She could have massacred the whole bunch in no time but Sadiq had forbidden her to do so. She guessed he wanted Heracles Karpusi for himself. She would have stuck to his conditions if she hadn't met unexpected circumstances. For starters: She had assumed Vargas to be alone in his room at this time of the day, but he hadn't been. She hadn't assumed them to be prepared, but they had been. She sighed a little, rolling her eyes in her mind. What a messed up day.
"I'm not in the mood for a bloodbath today." She began, it was a spleen of hers to talk a little to her victims at first. "So just tell me: Who of you is Lovino Vargas? The other will survive." She gave them a warm smile and really did not intend to break her promise. Yet the men remained silent, one staring at her with widened eyes, the other shaken by breathless sobs. Judging from their expressions both could have been the one sentenced to death. It was always very interesting to observe people's actions in such a situation. Most would point at their companion claiming they were the one she wanted. Others would step forth and take the bullet in order to protect the one she came to kill. Some simply remained silent, leaving her to choose. The two men kept their mouths shut, pressing their lips together until they turned white.
"It's the one on the right." Click.
Elizaveta tensed when the cold iron mouth of a gun was pressed to the back of her head. She tried to catch a glimpse of the man standing behind her, she never had heard his voice before.
"But who knows if I'm lying?" He continued lowly, she could almost hear him smile. A thick accent coated his words as they rolled of his tongue like the purring of a giant black cat. She was still aiming at the two in front of her but her expression wasn't as much at ease as before. No one spoke a word, the pale duo in front of her pistol was busy staring at the intruder with disbelieving eyes and the Hungarian woman was preoccupied with ways to escape this intricate situation. Silently she cursed her own carelessness. She should have shot both and run for it. Maybe she could talk herself out of it. Still, Elizaveta suddenly got the feeling she was playing with the big boys now. The quivering two were small fry but the third one…
"Who are you?" She asked to buy some time. Her mind was racing ahead, searching for a solution, a way out.
"Since you are the one intruding my home and threatening my men… Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?" The dark voice continued. The assassin's insides turned into a tight knot when she felt his hot breath brushing against her neck. "Of course, I already know you, Miss Héderváry."
Karpusi! She couldn't believe how wrong all this went. One miscalculation followed the other. It was even worse since she was not to harm the Greek in any way. She would have to bend the rules a bit.
"I know you, too." She snarled and smashed her elbow into his head. The gun against her skull disappeared then and she heard stumbling steps followed by a low, groaned Greek curse. She glanced at the man for a split-second. He pressed one hand to his nose, maybe she had broken it. Elizaveta couldn't gloat, though. She swirled around when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye and without even thinking about pulled her trigger. The shot echoed through the halls of the big building. She didn't stay to watch the chaos she had caused. As she turned to leave she found herself caught in the stare of two widened golden eyes asking her why. Two trickles of blood ran down his along his nose while the wall behind him was covered red. It was absurdly pretty, the blood blooming like a halo that surrounded his head. Against all odds she had managed to give the man a headshot right between the eyes. So, one was dead, she didn't care who. Her job was done. The assassin disappeared before her victim hit the floor.
Heracles stared after her as she darted down the hallway and turned the corner. He didn't go after her, didn't even send his guardsmen. He looked down on the two brothers on the floor. One cradled the other to his chest, sobbing shamelessly as the tears streamed down his pale cheeks. Blood covered them both and tears weren't enough to wash it away.
Heracles closed his eyes, feigning a somber expression. He wasn't proud of it but his feelings didn't mirror the ones of the young Italian embracing his dead brother. He couldn't shed tears for the boy, neither could he find sorrow in his heart. So he stood by the increasing puddle of blood that crept over the tiled floor and watched over mourning man, holding the limp body dearly, gently, like a baby. With trembling, blood-stained fingers he brushed the hair away from the lifelessly staring eyes and began to rock the corpse in his arms. "Fratello, no, no… Fratellino, mio fratellino…" He whispered to him, pressing his lips to the bloody cheek of his brother. Heracles' eyes wandered over the scene for the tenth time while Romano kept chanting words in Italian. A throbbing pain in his face reminded the Greek of his own injury. He reached up to wipe the blood off his mouth and nose. It was a shame that the kid had to die, but Elizaveta would back off. Sadiq would think he had landed a critical hit. He almost sneered at the thought but he could compose his features right in time. He turned away when he heard staggering footsteps hurrying their direction. So Antonio was unharmed. Oh no, he wasn't. Blood covered half of his face, probably from a head wound. That would explain his slightly uncoordinated movements. "Romano, thank God!" He called out when he saw him sitting on the floor. "What ha-?" He stopped short when he saw the motionless body in his friend's tight embrace.
"¡Dios mío!"
Heracles finally raised his voice but it sounded like it came from the inside of a tomb. "Elizaveta escaped."
The Spaniard turned around to look at his boss and for the first time, it seemed, Antonio's eyes were burning with rage. It was sort of unsettling to see him like that, but the Greek was sure that it wasn't the grief about Feliciano's cruel demise that made him wear that expression. Most likely was it Romano's pain that made the Spanish man's eyes yell 'murder'. The answer to Heracles' statement didn't come from him, though.
"We'll go after her." Romano looked up, glaring, piercing both of them with his tearfilled eyes. "Right?"
Heracles knew that if he wanted to keep their loyalty he didn't have much of a choice for that matter. Yet, there were valid points to consider. It would be best to handle one thing at a time. So he knelt down next to Romano and slowly put his hand on the Italian's shoulder. "Don't lose yourself in thoughts of revenge." He quietly adviced him. "Take your time to mourn your brother."
Maybe they were the wrong words he had chosen because Romano's gaze focused on him now and a snarl broke from his clenched teeth. "Coming from you this means a lot! Don't act so superior, you damn jerk! It's your fucking fault he's dead! Because of you!" The man bellowed through a new wave of tears flooding his eyes and covering his cheeks. Antonio came to his side now, quick to wipe the saltwater away. "Romano, calm down. It's no use to-"
"Shut up! I won't calm down, you bastard! My brother is dead! Dead, Antonio! And now that fucking asshole of a Greek won't even let me revenge his death! I won't accept that, you son of a bitch!" The last words were obviously directed at Heracles who still crouched next to him in silence and took every word from Romano's lips without even blinking. Antonio, worried about his boss' lack of reaction tried once again to calm his partner down. "Please, think about it normally. If you calmed down we could talk-"Romano cut in again. "No e poi no! I will yell and scream and cry as much as I fucking want!"
"Antonio, come with me for a second." The Greek whispered. Romano had started to rock his brother back and forth and talk quietly to him again. It was plain to see that the Spaniard would have liked anything better than leaving the Italian now but one look into the cold emerald eyes of the Greek silenced every possible protest. He rose to his feet and carefully felt his head, probably for the first time since he got hit.
They walked a bit down the corridor, leaving Romano behind on the ground surrounded by blood.
Antonio spoke first. "I say we should go and let him kill the Hungarian." He hissed urgently.
"As if he would stand a chance against her." Heracles sighed.
"We could help him. I think it is more than important that Romano gets at least the chance to avenge his little brother's death."
The Greek gave a low groan of defeat. He knew Antonio was right and maybe it was for the best. His thoughts travelled ahead, weighing, considering, pondering, circling the different options, actions and reactions. Elizaveta would probably go back to Turkey to at least get her money. He knew assassins preferred to be paid with cash. So that meant they had to go to Turkey, as well? Heracles had already decided against letting Romano and Antonio go alone. It was too dangerous. Plus: Feliciano's death was probably the best reason to get closer to Sadiq. That reminded him of Romano's words. Maybe the young Italian's death really was his fault... Somehow this bugged him but there was nothing he could do about it. The Grecian man was always fast with putting up with things he couldn't change. From this point of view... Heracles couldn't deny that he wanted the exact same things. Romano wanted to see the murderer of his only family member dead and he wanted to see the Sadiq dead who had done things that went beyond murder.
"I understand." He breathed, struggling to keep his thoughts under control. His gaze met the one of the Spaniard. "Fine, you're right. He should get the chance. But now..." His eyes wandered back to the bloody pair on the floor as he rubbed the fresh blood from his lips. "We have to clean up the mess she left behind."

"This is an unworthy funeral, I know. We can't bring him to a cemetery, Romano." Antonio whispered to the silent Italian that stared at the freshly closed grave surrounded by olive trees. Heracles stood with them, yet he kept his distance to the hole he had dug and then filled with earth again. He shouldered the shovel and waited in the shadow the thin branches of a nearby tree threw on the ground. This was not his to behold, even though it was his work. Romano wouldn't have allowed him to come closer anyway. He could not even imagine what it felt like... to bury his own brother.
"I know that." The dark haired man replied quietly, his golden eyes glistening with tears. Three days ago Antonio had closed Feliciano Vargas' eyes forever. Since then Romano hadn't spoken a word until now. The Spaniard eyed his friend worriedly. One of his hands rested on the smaller man's shoulder and his thumb rubbed the stiff muscles beneath. "It's not fair." Romano growled and shut his eyes again, unable to look at the small tombstone in front of him in which the name of his brother was carved with shaky Latin letters. "It's not fair." He repeated. "I should be lying there... She came to get me. He shouldn't have died. It was supposed to be me."
"Romano..."
"No. You know I'm right, Antonio. She asked for me. She said my brother would survive. She broke her promise." He grinded his teeth and when he opened his eyes again there were flames in those amber orbs. "I will kill her." With those words he turned around to the Greek waiting farther behind.
"No matter what you want me to do, you bastard! I'll do it as long as I get to see Héderváry die." He growled, totally sincere. The Spaniard wanted to say something but Heracles had already nodded in agreement. "You will get your chance."
The trio slowly retreated from the grave, coated in grave silence. Heracles led the way back to the mansion. That was when he noticed what a mess the Hungarian had made. A whole wall had been blown up by some kind of bomb. He hadn't even paid attention to that before… How could he have missed that the past days?
"I think the timing is perfect." The Greek muttered when he opened the door.
"What do you mean?" Antonio had his hand still on Romano's shoulder as if he was steering him. That one didn't even look up. Heracles was a little worried about his mental condition but it was rather superficial.
"We can't stay here. Thank God for the ruckus that is going on in this city, one explosion more or less probably didn't receive much attention." He sighed as he hurried down the halls towards his rooms, followed by the other two. "We can't stay here, anyway. It's time to move now."
The Spaniard couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Where will we move, Senor Karpusi?"
"To Turkey."

Description
The dust from a collapsed wall filled room and lungs. His heart beating furiously, desperately, in his chest he held his breath and pressed his back against the closed door. Widened eyes stared, horror-stricken, at the broken window and the cracks running all over the wall. A crouched figure waited in the window, not bothered by the remaining glass that stuck out from the frame like daggers. The light that fell into the usually dark room coated the stranger in a golden gleam.
Antonio drew the gun from his belt and cocked it at once. As if a stranger pulled at a string that was tied to him he placed himself in front of the Italian brothers squatting on the ground. He couldn't give them more than a glance but he was sure they were unharmed. Through the haze it was hard to see, though. His eyes hadn't time to focus on his target when it already began to move. The silhouette of a woman appeared to his left and he whirled around.
"Antonio!" The Spaniard's head snapped up, eyes widened with alarm. He felt the cold metal of a gun against his temple and then a dull yet all-consuming pain. Numbness spread through his body, coated his sight in blackness. He fell to the floor, limply like a doll and didn't move anymore.
Elizaveta stepped away from the man and turned her torso around, eyes flitting from side to side in their sockets in search of the other two. When someone yanked the door open and hurried steps were heard in the hallway she cursed. It wasn't like her to leave witnesses. She left the guy, called Antonio, on the ground and swiftly chased after the duo. It was a rather short hunt, she didn't break a sweat before cornering them. The door they had wanted to escape through was locked.
Lucky.
Elizaveta straightened up and cocked her gun. Now she could relax and adjust her senses to the situation. In front of her stood two young men, about the same height and almost the same hair style. Sadiq had shown her footage of his cameras before she had left so she knew Lovino Vargas certainly was one of them. She narrowed her eyes in concentration. But who?
Frankly, it didn't even matter who of both her victim was for she would kill both anyway. She felt a sting of unease at the thought, though. She never killed for free. She didn't want it, either.
All in all, it had been a miscalculation, she had to admit. A week ago she had started to collect all information about Lovino Vargas in order to find his hide-out. Since the man had been very reckless when he had left Turkey it had been a piece of cake to track him down. She was still wondering why she was supposed to kill the Italian, and no one but him, though. She could have massacred the whole bunch in no time but Sadiq had forbidden her to do so. She guessed he wanted Heracles Karpusi for himself. She would have stuck to his conditions if she hadn't met unexpected circumstances. For starters: She had assumed Vargas to be alone in his room at this time of the day, but he hadn't been. She hadn't assumed them to be prepared, but they had been. She sighed a little, rolling her eyes in her mind. What a messed up day.
"I'm not in the mood for a bloodbath today." She began, it was a spleen of hers to talk a little to her victims at first. "So just tell me: Who of you is Lovino Vargas? The other will survive." She gave them a warm smile and really did not intend to break her promise. Yet the men remained silent, one staring at her with widened eyes, the other shaken by breathless sobs. Judging from their expressions both could have been the one sentenced to death. It was always very interesting to observe people's actions in such a situation. Most would point at their companion claiming they were the one she wanted. Others would step forth and take the bullet in order to protect the one she came to kill. Some simply remained silent, leaving her to choose. The two men kept their mouths shut, pressing their lips together until they turned white.
"It's the one on the right." Click.
Elizaveta tensed when the cold iron mouth of a gun was pressed to the back of her head. She tried to catch a glimpse of the man standing behind her, she never had heard his voice before.
"But who knows if I'm lying?" He continued lowly, she could almost hear him smile. A thick accent coated his words as they rolled of his tongue like the purring of a giant black cat. She was still aiming at the two in front of her but her expression wasn't as much at ease as before. No one spoke a word, the pale duo in front of her pistol was busy staring at the intruder with disbelieving eyes and the Hungarian woman was preoccupied with ways to escape this intricate situation. Silently she cursed her own carelessness. She should have shot both and run for it. Maybe she could talk herself out of it. Still, Elizaveta suddenly got the feeling she was playing with the big boys now. The quivering two were small fry but the third one…
"Who are you?" She asked to buy some time. Her mind was racing ahead, searching for a solution, a way out.
"Since you are the one intruding my home and threatening my men… Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?" The dark voice continued. The assassin's insides turned into a tight knot when she felt his hot breath brushing against her neck. "Of course, I already know you, Miss Héderváry."
Karpusi! She couldn't believe how wrong all this went. One miscalculation followed the other. It was even worse since she was not to harm the Greek in any way. She would have to bend the rules a bit.
"I know you, too." She snarled and smashed her elbow into his head. The gun against her skull disappeared then and she heard stumbling steps followed by a low, groaned Greek curse. She glanced at the man for a split-second. He pressed one hand to his nose, maybe she had broken it. Elizaveta couldn't gloat, though. She swirled around when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye and without even thinking about pulled her trigger. The shot echoed through the halls of the big building. She didn't stay to watch the chaos she had caused. As she turned to leave she found herself caught in the stare of two widened golden eyes asking her why. Two trickles of blood ran down his along his nose while the wall behind him was covered red. It was absurdly pretty, the blood blooming like a halo that surrounded his head. Against all odds she had managed to give the man a headshot right between the eyes. So, one was dead, she didn't care who. Her job was done. The assassin disappeared before her victim hit the floor.
Heracles stared after her as she darted down the hallway and turned the corner. He didn't go after her, didn't even send his guardsmen. He looked down on the two brothers on the floor. One cradled the other to his chest, sobbing shamelessly as the tears streamed down his pale cheeks. Blood covered them both and tears weren't enough to wash it away.
Heracles closed his eyes, feigning a somber expression. He wasn't proud of it but his feelings didn't mirror the ones of the young Italian embracing his dead brother. He couldn't shed tears for the boy, neither could he find sorrow in his heart. So he stood by the increasing puddle of blood that crept over the tiled floor and watched over mourning man, holding the limp body dearly, gently, like a baby. With trembling, blood-stained fingers he brushed the hair away from the lifelessly staring eyes and began to rock the corpse in his arms. "Fratello, no, no… Fratellino, mio fratellino…" He whispered to him, pressing his lips to the bloody cheek of his brother. Heracles' eyes wandered over the scene for the tenth time while Romano kept chanting words in Italian. A throbbing pain in his face reminded the Greek of his own injury. He reached up to wipe the blood off his mouth and nose. It was a shame that the kid had to die, but Elizaveta would back off. Sadiq would think he had landed a critical hit. He almost sneered at the thought but he could compose his features right in time. He turned away when he heard staggering footsteps hurrying their direction. So Antonio was unharmed. Oh no, he wasn't. Blood covered half of his face, probably from a head wound. That would explain his slightly uncoordinated movements. "Romano, thank God!" He called out when he saw him sitting on the floor. "What ha-?" He stopped short when he saw the motionless body in his friend's tight embrace.
"¡Dios mío!"
Heracles finally raised his voice but it sounded like it came from the inside of a tomb. "Elizaveta escaped."
The Spaniard turned around to look at his boss and for the first time, it seemed, Antonio's eyes were burning with rage. It was sort of unsettling to see him like that, but the Greek was sure that it wasn't the grief about Feliciano's cruel demise that made him wear that expression. Most likely was it Romano's pain that made the Spanish man's eyes yell 'murder'. The answer to Heracles' statement didn't come from him, though.
"We'll go after her." Romano looked up, glaring, piercing both of them with his tearfilled eyes. "Right?"
Heracles knew that if he wanted to keep their loyalty he didn't have much of a choice for that matter. Yet, there were valid points to consider. It would be best to handle one thing at a time. So he knelt down next to Romano and slowly put his hand on the Italian's shoulder. "Don't lose yourself in thoughts of revenge." He quietly adviced him. "Take your time to mourn your brother."
Maybe they were the wrong words he had chosen because Romano's gaze focused on him now and a snarl broke from his clenched teeth. "Coming from you this means a lot! Don't act so superior, you damn jerk! It's your fucking fault he's dead! Because of you!" The man bellowed through a new wave of tears flooding his eyes and covering his cheeks. Antonio came to his side now, quick to wipe the saltwater away. "Romano, calm down. It's no use to-"
"Shut up! I won't calm down, you bastard! My brother is dead! Dead, Antonio! And now that fucking asshole of a Greek won't even let me revenge his death! I won't accept that, you son of a bitch!" The last words were obviously directed at Heracles who still crouched next to him in silence and took every word from Romano's lips without even blinking. Antonio, worried about his boss' lack of reaction tried once again to calm his partner down. "Please, think about it normally. If you calmed down we could talk-"Romano cut in again. "No e poi no! I will yell and scream and cry as much as I fucking want!"
"Antonio, come with me for a second." The Greek whispered. Romano had started to rock his brother back and forth and talk quietly to him again. It was plain to see that the Spaniard would have liked anything better than leaving the Italian now but one look into the cold emerald eyes of the Greek silenced every possible protest. He rose to his feet and carefully felt his head, probably for the first time since he got hit.
They walked a bit down the corridor, leaving Romano behind on the ground surrounded by blood.
Antonio spoke first. "I say we should go and let him kill the Hungarian." He hissed urgently.
"As if he would stand a chance against her." Heracles sighed.
"We could help him. I think it is more than important that Romano gets at least the chance to avenge his little brother's death."
The Greek gave a low groan of defeat. He knew Antonio was right and maybe it was for the best. His thoughts travelled ahead, weighing, considering, pondering, circling the different options, actions and reactions. Elizaveta would probably go back to Turkey to at least get her money. He knew assassins preferred to be paid with cash. So that meant they had to go to Turkey, as well? Heracles had already decided against letting Romano and Antonio go alone. It was too dangerous. Plus: Feliciano's death was probably the best reason to get closer to Sadiq. That reminded him of Romano's words. Maybe the young Italian's death really was his fault... Somehow this bugged him but there was nothing he could do about it. The Grecian man was always fast with putting up with things he couldn't change. From this point of view... Heracles couldn't deny that he wanted the exact same things. Romano wanted to see the murderer of his only family member dead and he wanted to see the Sadiq dead who had done things that went beyond murder.
"I understand." He breathed, struggling to keep his thoughts under control. His gaze met the one of the Spaniard. "Fine, you're right. He should get the chance. But now..." His eyes wandered back to the bloody pair on the floor as he rubbed the fresh blood from his lips. "We have to clean up the mess she left behind."

"This is an unworthy funeral, I know. We can't bring him to a cemetery, Romano." Antonio whispered to the silent Italian that stared at the freshly closed grave surrounded by olive trees. Heracles stood with them, yet he kept his distance to the hole he had dug and then filled with earth again. He shouldered the shovel and waited in the shadow the thin branches of a nearby tree threw on the ground. This was not his to behold, even though it was his work. Romano wouldn't have allowed him to come closer anyway. He could not even imagine what it felt like... to bury his own brother.
"I know that." The dark haired man replied quietly, his golden eyes glistening with tears. Three days ago Antonio had closed Feliciano Vargas' eyes forever. Since then Romano hadn't spoken a word until now. The Spaniard eyed his friend worriedly. One of his hands rested on the smaller man's shoulder and his thumb rubbed the stiff muscles beneath. "It's not fair." Romano growled and shut his eyes again, unable to look at the small tombstone in front of him in which the name of his brother was carved with shaky Latin letters. "It's not fair." He repeated. "I should be lying there... She came to get me. He shouldn't have died. It was supposed to be me."
"Romano..."
"No. You know I'm right, Antonio. She asked for me. She said my brother would survive. She broke her promise." He grinded his teeth and when he opened his eyes again there were flames in those amber orbs. "I will kill her." With those words he turned around to the Greek waiting farther behind.
"No matter what you want me to do, you bastard! I'll do it as long as I get to see Héderváry die." He growled, totally sincere. The Spaniard wanted to say something but Heracles had already nodded in agreement. "You will get your chance."
The trio slowly retreated from the grave, coated in grave silence. Heracles led the way back to the mansion. That was when he noticed what a mess the Hungarian had made. A whole wall had been blown up by some kind of bomb. He hadn't even paid attention to that before… How could he have missed that the past days?
"I think the timing is perfect." The Greek muttered when he opened the door.
"What do you mean?" Antonio had his hand still on Romano's shoulder as if he was steering him. That one didn't even look up. Heracles was a little worried about his mental condition but it was rather superficial.
"We can't stay here. Thank God for the ruckus that is going on in this city, one explosion more or less probably didn't receive much attention." He sighed as he hurried down the halls towards his rooms, followed by the other two. "We can't stay here, anyway. It's time to move now."
The Spaniard couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Where will we move, Senor Karpusi?"
"To Turkey."