Twenty-Nine Cozy Bears

04

Moscow, Russia

At 9:30am Luca Mancini, another of their group, came into the lobby and paused, lifting a quiet but inquisitive eyebrow. "Are they painting our room? And why am I under dressed?" he asked, looking down at his regular uniform.

Luca had the distinction of being the youngest of their group, as well as performing several demonstrations for the title of 'most talented' as well. Like the other two he held the rank of Sergeant and graduated through the same training cycle. The others of their group were here long before the three of them, and they appeared to be the last ones, for this unit at least — Two other units began to form a few months after they arrived.

Alek yawned and stretch as he said, "We were waiting for personal inspection. But it seems we have been set aside due to important matters of state."

The man judged what Alek had said, and then offered an approving nod. Standing up from the Soviet era wooden chair in the gray Soviet era room in the same styled building, which they called 'headquarters' he added, "You are not over dressed. We are showing off."

"Unless you noticed a presidential motorcade coming down the street." Alek said, as he leaned forward focusing his interest on the possibilities of Luca's answer. "As you were coming inside, maybe?"

Luca shifted slightly under the intense interest Alek focused on him. "No, nothing?"

"That is a shame," Alek said in a soft growling voice which mirrored his eternal disappointment. It did impress his listeners, that he could declare kinship with entropy at twenty-seven years old.

Luca, only twenty-three flushed with empathy. "Then we are on the job?"

"The American run?" Alek replied. "Where are we with that? Did you breach it yet?"

The man rubbed his freshly shorn jaw, "It is the one due next. I believe I'm close to getting through. I found a port entry. Might be something."

Alek stood and clapped the man's shoulder, "If you think it might be something then I can set my watch again." Then he reached over and messed up Luca's brown wavy hair, which looked mostly the same after suffering the abuse.

Alek, had the looks of the St. Petersburg Russians with the thick blonde hair and shimmering hard blue eyes that felt physically restraining when strong emotions fueled them. His glare literally halted others in mid-step. The man had witnessed this affect several times, with some experience of it himself — a time or two. Not an angry glare. It felt more like looking in the mirror to shave and finding a laser dot on your forehead.

His height could ambush a person. Even after you are aware of it, coming into a room it could suddenly seize your attention. He claimed to be six-four, but he projected a higher rating.

"I do not know," the man said, "it is strong security. Stronger than most government walls."

"It is a bank," Alek reasoned, with a shrugging of his shoulder which cast all wonder to the linoleum floor as obvious trivia.

"Da, it is a bank but still, it feels over done. At the level of paranoia. It is little wonder they suffer so much from heart disease and hyper tension. It can not be healthy."

"It is not paranoia if they know you are coming," Alek pointed out as he turned to walk down the long hall to their gymnasium.

He nodded at this with half interest, and followed, Luca falling in step beside him, the hallway echoing their boot steps.

"What's the highest port number you have every cracked into?" Luca asked him, his voice low and hesitant.

He barked a coughing laugh. The question caught him of guard. "What do you mean? There are 65535 ports. That is all. You make it sound like an endurance test. It is an address."

"But, that is the thing. They are based off a hexadecimal system. Sixteen-based numbers. In hexadecimal the last block would be 65536."

"True enough, but..." ... but this was Luca saying this to him, not one of the script kiddies at the Troll factory. "Have you checked it out?"

"No. I just thought of it on the way here."

"That is what you think about?" he asked.

Luca looked awkward, and then replied, "When I do not think about Kate Beckinsale."

He shrugged, "Good, you have balance. Do not lose that. It is unhealthy."