I was out with another Juliet at a small cafe in Italy, a frequent meeting point for agents going through the country since it wasn't a big tourist attraction, discussing battle tactics when I first saw him. Our first conversation:
"Benvenuti a Ciampini, Sig.na, posso prendere il vostro ordine?"
Welcome to Ciampini, Miss, can I take your order?
"Un caffè, nero, e un cappucino. "
One coffee, black, and one cappucino.
Coming right up.
And that was it. It wasn't even Amon who brought us our coffees. I hadn't said more than ten words to the guy who was going to eventually be the death of me, quite literally. Juliet Italiano complimented me onmy flawless Italian and we went back to plotting the death of the pope in the same breath.
It was a very simple plan. I would dress as a visiting nun from France and, very convienently, be so humble as to not flaunt my flawless Italian in front of everyone and instead show off with my incredible French. I had a small vial of rare, exotic, poison from the Amazon that I would coat the edge of my dagger with. All I had to do after that was make sure I was close enough to the Pope to either stab him or throw the knife at him. I have impeccable aim, if I do say so myself. Then I'd just slip on the wig, hop out of the habit, and lose myself in the crowd.
Sounds so simple you'd think it wouldn't work. At least, that's what the Italian Juliet was trying to tell me. Stupid Eurpean branches think they know better than the American ones just because they brought down an empire or two. Their plans were usually complicated and overthough. Americans tended to go more simple and straightforward with our assasinations. Who would've thought?
"Se fosse così facile, non si hanno già accaduto?"
If it was that easy wouldn't it have happened already?
I sighed and sipped my coffee with a thoughtful expression. I remember exactly what I was wearing that day, black capris with a sophisticated white blouse, and I was taking that opportunity to look good. I was told I looked older when I was thinking hard. Juliet looked annoyed and a little impatient so, after sitting like that for a couple more minutes, I finally set my coffee back down and leaned across the table with a grin. "E 'di andare a lavorare perché a tutti che prima di noi aveva esatta parere. Relax."
It's going to work because everyone before us had that exact opinion. Relax.
And I was as confident as I sounded. Why shouldn't it work? We had everything we needed to succeed: me. It may sound a little bigheaded but I'd never failed a mission yet. And I'm only sixteene, to boot.
That was Friday. We planned on making it a big ordeal, we did like our publicity even if we didn't get the credit, so we were planning on the Sunday mass. The Juliet was giving me Saturday to relax and enjoy the sights before the big shabang.