"Not impossible," Izkry clarified.  "But more costly than it is worth, Anton.  The Résistance needs help, yes, but hitting the Nazis or even Vichy France like trying to kick in a door, this will not work unless we send many to die.  Too many."  He paused, raising an eyebrow.  "It is only a matter of time before they start trying to use your countrymen to power the Nazi regime.  As workers, as soldiers, however it may be.  Bel says that will send many to join the Résistance, and she says it is most important to stay alive.  Hit-and-run is effective --  it is not fleeing, it is dodging only to attack again somewhere else."  But he let the topic die after that, and listened eagerly to the details of flying aeroplanes.

"Bel," he cautioned, putting a hand on his sister's arm when the glasses of water on the table trembled.  "And you -- do not antagonize her, Óscar.  For someone trying so hard to act like he is a nice person, you are very rotten inside, you know that?  Let her be.  She is fighting her own demons -- but at least she doesn't try to throw you to them."  He'd been kind to the Spaniard the first time around.  He'd not minded the man's strange manner or constant teasing, even made cheerful jests of his own.  But when he'd abandoned the team, that kindness had soured, and when the man returned with no remorse for his role in the outcome of that fight, that was the end.  Izkry hadn't shared that little detail until the run, hadn't harped on him for it, had done his best just to leave the other man alone.  He was reaching his limit on patience.

---

In the meeting room, Bel settled in a desk at the back, towards one of the corners.  Izkry took a seat near Johnathan.  "Pickle?" he asked softly of the younger man, not familiar with the idiom.  Then he listened carefully to the rest of the briefing.  He knew his sister was listening intently as well, even if she did not look it.

When asked if the had questions, he raised a hand and waited to be acknowledged.  "I am not understanding.  A man's son is suspicious, so you investigate him...he is friends with a senator, his son is also friends with politicians, but also Nazis.  There will be a fundraiser and you think...what, that the Nazis and the politicians are going to try to kill each other there?  I understand wanting to foil a possible assassination, but the background you give, it is very confusing.  ...You have maybe file to read?"  He was Swiss, and had very little grasp on the intricacies of American politics, and the background the agent had presented did nothing to help.  Bel might be able to explain it better.  He'd have to ask her later.

Behind him, the woman was frowning behind her bangs, blue eyes fixed on the screen.  She had more pressing concerns -- and she couldn't rely on Izkry to articulate them.  She waited to see if there were other questions from her squadmates before closing her eyes long enough to steady herself.  The man had not even introduced himself, and he seemed more like a soldier than a civilian to her.  But the captain appeared to defer to him, so she would as well.  "With respect, sir."

It was soft when she spoke, but carried well enough to be heard even at the front of the small room.  Her accent was crisply British with German overtones, the words cleanly and clearly articulated.  Most there would not recognize her voice, as they'd never yet heard her speak.

"To clarify, you wish an army team not yet out of training to do delicate undercover work and observation."  The implication that they were not even a cohesive unit at this point was unspoken but clearly implied.  "A task for which we've had no instruction, with the lives of important people at stake.  There may be a powered individual present, and we are to...locate gaps in security and possible traps, and search out the powered individual and take him down."  She paused.  There was no disrespect intended, no affront to his authority.  It was an impersonal assessment of the task that had been outlined for them, highlighting a number of the flaws.  "Might I suggest sending a different team for identification with the assistance of Pvt Moretti and perhaps one or two others who might fit in, leaving the rest in reserve to engage only when the target has been identified?  There is a good chance we will either scare your 'spook' away to try again another time, or cause him to change his plans in such a way that any uncovered preparations lead us in the wrong direction."

It was far more than she liked speaking, and quite frankly it made her heart race.  But the adrenaline helped her focus, and she kept herself steady.  She could feel the eyes on others, but she concentrated on those of her brother, sensing his silent support.  She'd only spoken at all because this was tactical -- she was not nearly comfortable enough with the others to voluntarily converse.  This, however, was important enough that she made the effort, and she hoped the dreaded shortcomings of governments and militaries everywhere weren't going to send them into a disaster for which they would inevitably be blamed if it went poorly.

But if they did, at least she'd tried.

((Just found out the major French resistance didn't form until '43.  Ah well.  Maquis is a great word, though.))