Her patience paid off in the marble-lit lobby of a downtown hotel. From behind her sunglasses, she spotted a young Italian Air Force officer checking in — polished, poised, and the right size. The uniform, the cap, the briefcase — everything matched what the infiltrator needed. She followed discreetly, noting the officer’s room number, then waited. Later, wearing a hotel jacket and carrying a tray, she knocked softly. “Room service.” The door opened — the officer, relaxed, in her slip, expecting coffee. She didn’t expect the cold-eyed woman standing there. The struggle was brief, silent, efficient. By morning, the infiltrator stood before the mirror in a perfectly fitted Italian uniform, the officer still unconscious in bed, gagged and bound. Another woman in her clothes and nylons. One more uniform among many — and one step closer to the summit.
Great job on this one. 