"The Ides of March have come," said Caesar.

"Yes, they have come," replied Spurinna, "but they have not yet gone."

Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars Ch. 81

When they reached the vehicle Trials helped Mike into the passenger side and then collapsed into the driver's seat, sweating and thankful to be inside its tinted-window shade until he realised he couldn't be feeling hot, not at this temperature, not with his blood.

I must be more stressed than I think I am, he thought to himself.

Mike looked up from where he had slumped against the passenger side door.

"Wha..?" he asked, woozily.

"Nothing," answered Trials. He hadn't realised he had spoken aloud.

He really needed a drink. He swore to himself for not taking some of the wines from the cellar. He already had charges of breaking and entering, assault, and murder to look forward to once the polizia found the mess they had left behind, so might as well add petty theft. There would be no Ministry resources to help hide his identity this time. He just had to hope nobody would be investigating the villa for time enough to find Matterson, and then he should be able to disappear into the wind until the Ministry built itself back up. The first few days were always the most important in escaping police investigations.

He gunned the car into gear without thinking, and the soft sound of tyres on dirt was all that could be heard for the next few minutes.

"Who do you think you are, Jake?" asked Mike suddenly, voice low and tired.

Trials took his eyes off the road to look at his friend.

Mike was badly injured, blood running in a rivulet down the side of his face. A cut must have opened up somewhere above his hairline. His injured eye was barely able to open, but both eyes were focused on Trials.

"What do you mean?" Trials asked. "I'm... me. Jacob Trials."

"No, Jake," sighed Mike, "I mean, who do you think you are? What is it you do? What do you think all... this... is?"

Mike's arm raised itself weakly and swept around to indicate himself and their fellow passengers.

The General was sat in the back next to Lucy, leaning against the door with his body slightly contorted towards her, rifle balanced across his lap so that the muzzle was trained directly at her chest.

"I'm sorry Mike, I didn't want you to get involved in all this. My work was never meant to affect you guys," Trials said.

"Fuck you, Jake," growled Mike. "You didn't want us to get involved? I was involved before you even knew it."

The car began to climb into the Apennines and winding mountain roads as Trials thought on what to say.

"It was a... shitty coincidence. What were the odds of it being you designing dangerous tech?"

Trials realised his tone was all wrong as he spoke, accusatory, defensive.

"Dangerous tech? Dangerous? It could... it can... save millions of lives! It was never designed to be dangerous!"

Even in his broken state Mike managed to make his anger clear, sitting up as his voice grew furious.

"It's incredibly dangerous, Mike. It could be used to assassinate people without any chance of detection. Without even any sign that there had been an assassination. It could be used to drive people crazy a little at a time, destroy their brain piece by piece. It could be modified to carry toxins, turned into an aerosol..."

"You're sick, you know that?" Mike cut him off. "For that to happen it would need to be weaponised. It's medical technology, Trials, and you stole it. It could have saved thousands by now. I'd call you a murderer..." and here Mike looked down... "...but you already know you are."

The car was silent for a while. Trials didn't understand how Mike could be so blind, didn't understand why The General didn't offer him any support, didn't know why he felt so... hollow.

"Sometimes you have to do the wrong things for the right reasons," said Trials, faintly.

Mike gave a derisive snort.

"Thank you for saving me, Jake..." he said, voice calmer, "...but you think you're a spy, you think you're a hero. You're not. You're a paid thief, a hired killer. Just because you think it's right doesn't make it so."

"Where are we going?" asked Lucy, interrupting from her seat in the back.

"I'm... not sure yet," replied Trials, eyes glancing at her in the mirror before returning to the road. "But wherever we're going, we can't have you waving around an assault rifle, Matthews."

The General gave no visible reaction to being called by his surname as he slowly allowed the rifle to fall onto its side. He'd always insisted Trials could be less respectful, and now Jacob was damned if he was ever going to go back to calling him 'sir'.

"We can't carry it with us, either," said The General, not taking his eyes off Lucy. "We need to get rid of it at the first opportunity."

They had to make a detour to find a suitable place, following the signs to a large lake surrounded by forest, driving around it until they found an isolated area lined by thick coniferous trees. Trials pulled the car up at the side of the road and left his three passengers sitting there whilst he scrabbled and clawed his way through the bushes and undergrowth of the steep incline down to the water, an area almost inaccessible and certainly not likely to attract casual passersby.

He drew the rifle out from the jacket he had wrapped it in and disassembled it, hurling first the magazine and then the bolt assembly into the water as far as he could. Lacking the screwdriver necessary to remove the hand guard the usual way, Trials used the tried-and-tested method of smashing it against a convenient tree until it cracked, with the added benefit that both rail and muzzle were bent so much they were rendered unusable. With a couple more smacks for luck, he sent it flying after the first components and clambered back up the slope.

He surmounted the summit at the same moment as the gunshot rang out. His eyes swung to the car just as the passenger door was flung open and Mike tumbled out, staggering away as fast as he could. It wasn't fast enough.

Lucy came flying out of her door and barrelled into his back, knocking him to the ground and straddling his back. In her hand she held a small, sleek black pistol, which she pointed into the back of his skull. Trials thought he heard a single sob of despair.

"What the... Lucy? Lucy! What are you doing?" asked Trials in controlled tones, hands giving calming gestures.

"I need you to come with me, Trials," she said, looking directly at him whilst keeping the pistol steady against Mike's head.

"Come with you? Where?" he asked, stepping slowly forward.

"Don't come any closer, Trials," she said, and he froze.

"What's this about? Where's The General?" As he asked, Trials looked into through the still open rear car door to see The General slumped against the opposite side, clutching at his stomach where a dark red mark was spreading.

"UH-uh-uh," admonished Lucy as Trials started towards him. "He's already done for, Trials. If you want to save your other friend, though, you still have a chance. Now, get in the driver's seat, please."

Lucy's face and mannerisms had completely changed. The determined core of ice that had lurked behind her eyes was gone now, or rather, it had flared up into flame. Her eyes were wide and shone with determination, her breathing deep and heavy, and she seemed to be gritting her teeth. She slammed the pistol butt against Mike's head for emphasis.

Trials saw no other choice. He slowly walked around and got into the driver's seat. He tried to whisper to The General, but there was no response. The mirror showed a gaunt, still, white form, eyes staring into nothingness. Trials cursed quietly to himself that this road was too secluded. He needed a distraction, a chance to do something...

"Don't even think about trying something," said Lucy as she climbed in the back. Mike was in front of her, trying to cram into the middle next to The General's corpse.

Lucy tutted loudly.

"Push him out," she said.

Mike was frozen, unmoving as he stared at the body.

"Push... him... OUT!" she yelled at Mike's expression, and prodded him with the gun. Mike leaned over and pulled the handle, the door falling open at The General's weight against it, and the body tumbled backwards onto the side of the road.

"Now, drive, Trials. I will show you the way."

"What is this, Lucy? Where are you taking us?" asked Trials as the car pulled away.

"Oh, don't sound so worried, Trials," she said, a distant smile on her face as she stared alternately at Mike and the gun in his side, "I'm taking you where you want to go. I'm taking you to meet Nigel Matterson..."