Cut and Run 3 - Fish and Chips

had seemed like punishment and revenge at the time.
    Ty muttered to himself as he walked away. He was fiddling with the ring on his hand, unconsciously trying to get it off. Zane watched the pull of muscle across his shoulders, admiring the way he held himself upright and proud, even here when it was just the two of them. Even as Zane watched him, Ty pushed at the band of his pajama bottoms, kicking out of them so he could change. “I deserve another medal for dealing with you,” he told Zane grudgingly as he tossed the pants away, unaware of Zane’s intense scrutiny.
    Zane sighed and silently acknowledged that Ty was right. Clambering out of the bed, Zane ducked into the bathroom and emerged five minutes later cleaned up and in a pair of loose silk sleeping pants. “Any idea what’s next?” he asked.
    Ty had changed into a pair of stylishly distressed jeans with holes at the knees of the worn, soft denim. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt. With nothing but Del Porter’s wardrobe at his disposal, Ty had taken to wearing as little as possible. Zane had to admit he selfishly enjoyed it. Ty waved the Sudoku book he’d been looking at earlier. “I found some disturbing things last night,” he told Zane. “We have a whole shitload of problems. Del Porter? Ain’t as stupid as he looks.”
    “I didn’t talk to him, but it didn’t seem like that would take too much,” Zane commented as he stopped next to him.
    “These puzzle books are full of codes,” Ty told him. “I haven’t cracked them yet. I found an iPod full of recordings I’m pretty sure he took by using these,” he went on, pointing to a pair of cuff links and broken reading glasses. “I’m not sure why or for who, but the Italian authorities have a stake in this too. All I know for sure is the FBI has put their boot up somebody else’s ass on this one, and we’re fucked, because no matter how much I want to, I still don’t speak Italian.”
    Zane stared at Ty as he took it all in. This was what Ty had tried to tell him last night. Zane rubbed one hand over his face. “We’re stuck in someone else’s sting,” he muttered. “Shit. This assignment has been totally fucked up from the beginning.”
    “Exactly,” Ty muttered. He tossed the books down and threw himself onto the sofa gracelessly. The tired bent to his shoulders was more obvious, and it seemed like maybe he’d been up a lot longer than Zane had suspected. It was possible he’d never gone to sleep.
    “So now what?” Zane asked. “You look like you need a nap, but I think we might want to find our team, have them look into the manifest for passports originating from Italy, and call back home to see if McCoy has any clue about this fun little twist.”
    “I have searched for the team,” Ty said with a low, precise growl. “They’re apparently Olympic-level stealthy, because I couldn’t find any trace of any of them.”
    Zane frowned. “Something’s not right about that. They’re supposed to be close enough for us to call for backup. Calling out their names over the bullhorn isn’t exactly subtle.”
    “If they were anywhere near us, they’d have called out the cavalry last night when Dolce and Gabbana were feeding me a gun barrel,” Ty muttered as he examined his fingernails critically.
    “Did they really do that?” Zane asked carefully.
    Ty looked up at him as if he hadn’t expected him to have heard and then waved him off with his typical easy attitude. It was frustrating at times, knowing how much trauma Ty could hide behind a smile or a joke. “Dolce and Gabbana took the iPod full of recordings,” he told Zane, as if he were somehow up to speed. “But this morning I figured out Del was taking notes with these,” he added as he pointed at the array of Sudoku and crossword puzzle books. “I understood some of what they said to me last night before they started with the English,” he told Zane. “Pretty sure one of them called me a queer,” he added with a wry smile.
    “How perceptive of them, Del ,” Zane said drolly as he reached for one of the books. “What about the Sudoku?”
    “Whatever method he was using, I don’t follow,” Ty admitted as he showed the pages to Zane. “I can’t even decide if I think he’s brilliant for having a coded backup or stupid for writing shit down,” he muttered. He was silent for a moment. “They said it with malice,” he finally added, obviously unable to let go of it.
    Zane looked up from the