Instantly, Fontecchio was sprinting for all he was worth through the delicate trees. The palace was compromised, two of the Hand dead already, maybe more. This was no rebel strike but a full assassination attempt by one of the Old Houses, or worse. A bush moved against the evening breeze and Fontecchio fired. Leaves exploded in the strident blast, along with blood and a spray of gray brains spiderwebbed with silver wires. Loping alongside the forest trail, Fontecchio pulled out a small device and flicked at it with his thumb. The signaling device would summon the military within minutes, letting them know this was not an exercise or practice. In all probability, he might get killed himself with the arrival of the overly excited troopers. But that was a part of the job. Hai ! he asked himself. Hai, he answered solemnly.