WELCOME

[Consuela Vargas]

August 26th
7:00pm
Hotel Bernini Bristol

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Consuela Santiago Vargas sat in the back of a sleek, white limousine. In one hand she held a glass of red wine taking small sips from it every so often. In the other she held a manila folder. She lay the folder down next to her on the seat and flipped it open. It contained names and the companies that they were attached to. Tonight there was a fundraiser being held to benefit the local the charities in place for children. Consuela often found herself attending these sorts of fares for they were an ideal way to meet new clients and also to keep tabs on competition.

She raised the glass to her lips and sipped on the cold, intoxicating beverage. As the limo pulled up to the front of the Bernini Bristol, she sighed and set the glass in the designated holder. The manila folder was slipped into a compartment flushed with the seats. She could already hear the voices of the paparazzi and news people. They were always so concerned with what the celebrities were wearing and who they were with. It was annoying honestly. Tonight the Spaniard beauty was flying it solo and wearing a simple, white gown. As the driver opened the door she stepped out placing white heeled feet on the red carpet.

Consuela put on a fake smile and waved for the cameras flashing as she headed inside the building. It was a gorgeous setting they had in place. The lobby already littered with guests and their plus ones. Well then, it was time to do some mingling.

[Matvei Sokolov]

The Bernini Bristol. Not Matvei's favorite Roman hotel, but not the worst either. Having a preference for smaller gatherings, being the owner of a Fortune 500 company and rising higher on that list every year required numerous time-wasters such as this. He used to wonder how business people could tolerate spending this much money on something as mundane as 'charity' when spending half the time and money working on a product to help the charity in a longer-term fashion would be incalculably more beneficial to them.

That, and it would be a lovely excuse for him to leave.

But all in all he didn't really mind these fundraisers. From an Assassin perspective it was a fantastic way to get information. From a sales perspective, it was a great way to get new clients. Though on that last respect, Matvei doubted he'd find many people who weren't using The Sniffers in one way or another.

Having chosen to arrive in a more classical sense, Matvei was dropped off by his chauffeur a block north of the hotel and walked the rest of the way, slipping in through a back door that only cost him eighty Euro to open.

He navigated through the laundry room then the kitchen before finding his way to the main entrance and walked out with the hauteur of the excessively wealthy into the large party lobby. The first paparazzi to spot him all but shrieked in surprise that he hadn't gotten the arrival photo and, in a bath of flashing lights Matvei walked into the room of fine gowns and tailored suits.

[Consuela Vargas]

It seemed like all of the power players had made an appearance tonight. Her eyes scanned the large lobby looking for any familiar faces or rather faces of people that she tolerated more than others. A waiter balancing a tray of champagne made his way through the crowd before heading toward her. “Grazie,” she said while taking one of the plain glasses. She swirled the liquid a bit not yet ready to consume. A lovely looking couple spotted her and immediately waved. She smiled and waved back as they approached. “Darling Sebastian, how are you this evening?” she asked.

“Ms. Consuela,” the man responded with a bow. “I am doing quite well thank you.” The blonde woman on his arm gave a slight tug. “Consuela I would like to introduce you to the lovely Lillian Balboni.”

Consuela nodded to the woman. “A pleasure Ms. Balboni.” It did not look like it, but she was scrutinizing the man’s date. She had not seen this one before. Her hair was perfectly pressed, makeup applied with profession, and a dress that had to cost a hefty sum. She was far too beautiful to be someone Sebastian managed to catch. No, this Lillian was no doubt an escort. It was not an unusual phenomenon at events like this. Some men did not have the time for actual dating, but wanted to have something sexy hanging from their arm to make a show for the cameras. “Let me congratulate you on the new chapter of Amtech.”

“Oh many thanks. Things are really starting to pick up for the company.” Lillian tugged on his arm again with a rather annoyed look. “Well if you excuse me, I must go make nice with a few more faces.”

Consuela raised her glass to him in acknowledgment. As he turned to leave she rolled her eyes and sipped the beverage. It was so obvious that his little date could not stand being in the presence of a real beauty. Her attention was drawn to the individual making his entrance in a flash of lights. Hmm, now who was this gentleman?

[Matvei Sokolov]

Matvei had to admit that he took a bit of fun in being among the most well known men in the world by day and yet keeping his true profession a secret. But the darker side of his life was for another time and another day. Right here and right now- something he always had to live in, the here and now- he was Matvei Sokolov, founder, owner, and CEO of NetTek and one rich son of a bitch.

Once he was far enough into the crowd of wealth that the paparazzi flocked to someone closer to the fringes he found himself shaking or kissing hands left and right in the pseudo-politeness of his class of people while also making only slightly inappropriate comments and off color jokes at the same time. Just because he was rich didn't mean he wasn't a person, and his wealth came from his head and not his silver tongue. Sure he could woo with words when it suited him or when he was inclined to, but for the most part he could do and say as he wanted because nobody here would dare shut their doors to NetTek. Well, they might try but if the market research and five year forecast of his company meant anything to them it would make anyone with half a brain see that doing so would be a very unwise thing.

A new face caught his eye and he gave Consuela a smile. He stepped around a chair that was one of many placed around the room- none of which were currently in use due to the ratio and people not wanting to appear impolite by sitting while in the middle of talking to someone- and almost tripped on the leg, causing him to stumble and skew both the chair he tripped on and the one he used to catch his fall a bit. With no attempt to turn them back the way they were originally facing- he was rich, after all, and furniture correction could wait for the hired help to fix- he grabbed a pair of fine champagne glass from a passing waitress's tray as he approached Consuela.

"Good evening madam" he said, extending her the glass, speaking in his thicker Russian accent. Spending almost a decade of his life (total) in America he could pull of a pure Americanized English accent if he wanted, but he liked to speak with the accent of his homeland when he could because it often made him seem more intimidating to others. Russians had a natural air of power about them.

[Consuela Vargas]

The may smiled when their eyes locked for a moment. He was a handsome man, late thirties from the way he looked. Consuela sipped from her glass and watched as he began to make his way over to her. But it was not a smooth ride over. It was an embarrassing scene playing out right in front of her and the others at the party. She almost face palmed at it, but kept her stoic appearance. The man did not even to bother to realign the chairs, something that would pit against him in her book. He snatched up two glasses before finally appearing in front of her offering the glass.

With a blank expression she looked at the champagne already in her left head and shook her head. “Buona sera, signore.” She raised her glass just in case he still did not see it. “I will be keeping it light this evening.” His voice was laced with a thick, Russian accent. By now her Spanish accent was all but lost. She looked pass him to the chairs that were now being set back up by an employee of the hotel. “I am Consuela Vargas, CEO of Comstatic. And who might you be?”

[Matvei Sokolov]

Matvei made no expression or comment when Consuela lifted her own glass of weak alcohol to indicate that she was already holding one. Such details didn't escape an ex-military special forces eye, nor the eye of an assassin. The details that it showed was that she was of a higher class of person and wasn't overly flirtatious. In essence, it spoke more to Matvei than her words did; any 'escort' could claim to be a business woman of such-and-such a company since most people with the amount of money that were invited to these parties would be far too polite to call someone on their lie. No escort would turn down the polite offering of additional liquor, however, since the chance to flirt with a billionaire would be their goal.

By refusing it, Matvei could be fairly certain that Consuela was who she claimed to be. With a smile and a shrug that got the 'Oh well, my mistake' gesture across, he lifted one of the glasses to his lips and downed its contents in one go. What they said about Russians was true; they drank Vodka like water. This made Champagne go down easy as could be. He extended the now empty glass to one side and set it on the tray of a passing waitor who had been walking up behind him. A slightly impressive feat meant to awe and woo in a mild way.

"A pleasure to meet you madam" he said, giving her a rigid ninety degree Russian bow while holding his still full glass up enough so it didn't spill. "I'm Matvei Sokolov, CEO of NetTek." He took a smaller sip of his glass this time and said "Comstatic, I do believe that my people are talking to your people to work out a long term contract, no? Or do you not busy yourself with the trivial affairs of technical lawyers?" Extensive conversations with other company heads had taught Matvei of his unusual tendencies to do work at the lowest levels of the corporate ladder; he even got on the assembly line from time to time to hand solder components. He liked to stay fresh and up to date with what everything was and where it was going.

[Consuela Vargas]

Consuela looked on with faux interest as the man down the glass of champagne without stopping and then placed the glass on the tray of a passing waiter. It was something that might have impressed or awed an average Joe Blow that had seen one to many spy movies, but its implications did not register with the woman. She had come across his type before, many times before. And each one she found to be annoying. Consuela gingerly sipped on her champagne and dabbed at the corner of her mouth with the tip of her finger. The Russian then introduced himself. She showed a level of genuine interest when he mentioned the name of his company.

NetTek, a name she had come across more than once. It developed a new technology that was being used by many companies throughout the country. Comstatic though and other Templar controlled agencies did not harbor the technology for that would be foolish. You did not rule nearly the whole world by making such ignorant mistakes. “Sokolov, was it? There is nothing that goes on with my company that I am not aware of. Everything that happens goes through me first. It is true that our companies are in dealings right now and I truly hope it will be the beginning of a prosperous relationship.” Consuela smiled with a hint of coyness.

Comstatic was only a cable provider on the surface, but deep beneath were sinister plans. This contract between their companies, it served an important goal that only those high enough within the order knew about. She was about to speak again but the sound of tapping against a microphone drew her attention. Atop the stage platform stood a portly fellow in a black tuxedo that looked a size to small for his gut. The crowd fell into a hush.

“Grazie grazie! Benvenuti a tutti to the fourth annual Hope for Youth. Many of you already know who I am, but for the newcomers this year I am Francesco La Grua the owner of this fine establishment.” He paused to allow the crowd to clap. “We are all gathered here this evening to raise money for the youth in need all around Italia. So please everyone gather in the sala conferenze so we may begin the auction.”

And with that, the crowd began to make their way to the east conference room. Consuela looked to Matvei. “If you like, we shall finish this conversation later.” She placed what was left of the beverage on one of the tables and followed the others into the room.

[Matvei Sokolov]

"Indeed" Was the only response that Matvei could get in before the fat man with a microphone interrupted, announcing that the auction would be beginning. Matvei stifled a yawn and wanted to invite Consuela to join him anywhere except the conference room but she seemed to be keen on going there. After she set her drink down Matvei finished off his second glass before putting it down on the same table and following her. "It would be my pleasure to accompany you." he said, inviting himself to enter the auction room with her and, when she chose a seat he chose one beside her, squeezing past some lobbyist to obtain what he wanted.

He sat and looked around, counting heads. "I wonder what is going to be up for sale." he said aloud, partially to Consuela and partially just a general comment. "Did they send out a pamphlet or something? I more or less came here as a last minute arrangement and didn't know anything about what was going on until my driver told me on the way here from the airport." This much was an honest truth; Matvei rarely opened mail from a sender he didn't recognize. He wasn't paranoid, he just tended not to care much.

[Consuela Vargas]

The conference room was lined with cushioned chairs; each one housing a stick attached to a thick piece of paper with a number written. The seats quickly began to fill up with eager money pits ready to get their hands on new merchandise. Consuela enjoyed the auctions that charities usually had in place. It was a great way to give money to the organizations and obtain items that would never be on the market. As she took up a seat three rows back from the front on the left side of the room, Matvei came to join her. She looked down at her designated number, ninety eight. “The items of the night are a surprise, dear.”

Everything in the room was hidden beneath its own sheet and those items that would not inside, like a car for instance, would be displayed on the monitor on stage. A man wearing a gray suit took the change behind the podium. He stared out at the gathered crowd as the last person took her seat. The doors were closed off to the news crews and photojournalists. He cleared his throat. “Tonight we have many items waiting to find new owners. Each one priceless and can not be found anywhere else. I hope you all brought your wallets, if not, then why are you here?” A little bit of dry humor. “With no further delay let us begin.”

Two men wheeled a large square object onto stage and removed the sheet revealing an elegant piece of tapestry meant to be displayed on a wall. Consuela looked at the fine piece of work with little interest. She already had enough of those lining her home back in Madrid.

“This magnificent piece of art was created by renown artist Amato Calamia. The bidding starts at four hundred euro.”

There was some hesitation at first, but the numbers soon began to rise. Consuela crossed her legs and watched as the people put in their bids. She looked to Matvei. “You seem un uomo of taste. No bids?”

[Matvei Sokolov]

Matvei observed the blanket covered items passively as he waited for the auction to start. Having not grabbed a paddle with a number, someone came over to give him one. Matvei declined, stating that he had no desire to be partially anonymous. If he wanted to buy something he'd holler at them. While the attendant didn't look too pleased to hear this, he wasn't the kind of person to argue with a man who could buy and sell him with the amount he tips his chauffeur.

The man who would be soon talking a mile a minute to build up the tension for the bids was making his opening proclamations before the first bid came. A very pretty wall rug that didn't interest the russian business man at all. He looked over to Consuela when he addressed him. She called him 'A man of taste' in Italian. He wasn't fluent int he language, at least not in terms of speaking, but he could hear and understand it well enough.

"Thank you for your compliment," he said, "But that particular rug really would not look good in any of my houses. I am a very modernized man and surround myself with modern architecture. If I were to purchase that it would clash greatly with the rest of my furnishings."

The next item up for auction was right up Matvei's alley, however; a sterling silver mimic of the The Thinker. Polished to a bright shine, Matvei was the first to offer a bid of one hundred thousand dollars. There was some conention, but the Russian ended up winning with just over half a million.

[Consuela Vargas]

The tapestry was purchased at a price of seven hundred euros by a young woman representing a private medical facility. Matvei explain to her his reason for not putting in any bid. It got her thinking about the layout of her home, or rather the one she stayed in the most in Madrid. It was an old style house with antique furniture. Every piece of art in it was from a past era. Consuela did enjoy modern art very much, but it was something about the older stuff that captured her tastes. It probably had something to do with the way she was brought up. Her home as a child was filled with similar works and her father used to read her literature from ancient Roman times.

After the first item was taken off stage another was brought up in its place. Consuela scrutinized it for a moment, but again it was not something she was interested in. The company of the evening on the other hand did not feel the same way as she. She draped an arm around the back of her chair and watched as the competition for the silver statue heat up. In the end, Matvei out bid those interested with a hefty sum. She did not bat an eyelash at the amount he had spent on the object. In the past there had been people to bid even more on items.

After awhile of bidding and selling, the auction finally came to an end. In total Consuela spent around two million euros. It was not a lot compared to some of the other people present, but she had more pressing things to put her money toward. This auction was not important to the woman, not in the least. She had come only to put on a show for the cameras and check in on the companies present. Consuela stood from her seat stifling a yawn. She looked to Matvei. “I do believe I offered a conversation with you.” Before she could go any further, her cell rang. She pulled the device free from the small carry on.

Consuela kept her smile as she listened to the voice on the other end though there was a slight twitch of her brow. It was not news that she wanted to hear, at least not right now. After hanging up, she sighed. “Chiedo scusa, signor Sokolov. But it seems my presence is needed elsewhere.” She exchanged the phone for a single business card and handed it to him. “My card. You and I can discuss the details of our contract at a later date.” She nodded.

[Matvei Sokolov]

Matvei purchased a handful of other items during the auction but hadn't spent more than two million dollars (american currency). Everything he bought had a 'new' feeling about it; modernistic styles and mostly very shiny. By the time the auction rolled around to an end he was getting bored with it anyway. He had gotten a potential idea courtesy of a gentleman in the row in front of him to write a computer program that would automatically find certain items on auction sites across the globe and place bids for him. As he contemplated the idea Consuela addressed him.

She was quickly interrupted by her phone and Matvei remained patient and waited for her call to end. From her frozen expression and brevity of the talk, Matvei assumed it was important and most likely negative in nature.

When Consuela pardoned herself and said she had to go, Matvei took her card and bid her a farewell. He nodded goodbye to her and watched her depart. Curiosity was gnawing at his mind but if he pursued her stealthily and the Brotherhood caught wind he would be in for a tongue lashing.

He grinned and shrugged inwardly. As if he cared about being scolded. He waited about a minute before heading for the exit, going out the back, the same way he had come in, then rounded the corner and looked out at the car pool, picking Consuela out through the milling people; late arrivals and early leavers.

[Consuela Vargas]

As the card left her hands and goodbyes were said, Consuela turned on her heel and headed out the front door. Along the way she called for her driver to meet her out front at the exact same location she had gotten out at. Meeting the owner of NetTek was… an underwhelming experience she felt. They were all the same. He was just another cookie-cutter rich boy. At least he did not try to make any moves to get between her thighs; that was a relief. After the car pulled up the driver rushed over to the door and opened it for her with a nod. Consuela smiled at the man and entered the vehicle.

Daniel was a good driver, well-spoken man with the manners of a true gentleman. She respected him and trusted him with her life when it came to driving. Of course he was still completely out of the loop of who she really worked for. Maybe one day the man could be brought into the fold. She tossed her purse aside and sighed heavily as the car pulled off the lot. All of the chatting and false happiness and tolerance for those people had tired her out and her face was hurting from having to smile. A nice, long, relaxing bath accompanied by a glass of her favorite wine and a good book were definitely in the near future.

[[exit]]