by A. D. Winch
Once breakfast was finished they all went up to the hallway where Andrea was waiting. She was dressed as usual in leathers, but this time wore a Hives T-shirt.
Arranged neatly on the floor were two rucksacks and three large black hold-alls. Andrea lifted one of these and one rucksack while Ursula took the other rucksack.
Outside the villa, it was still a little chilly, but the blossoming trees and daffodils that lined the driveway had not withered. The bags were put into the back of the Range Rover and Andrea returned to the house to collect the remaining two hold-alls.
While she was gone Ursula cart-wheeled to the front of the vehicle and picked up some stones from the drive. When she stood upright again, she looked extremely upset. Her face was tense, and her eyes were filling with tears. She jumped up and down; her fists clenched tightly around the stones and her eyes fixed on the trees fifty metres in front of her. Suddenly she started to scream and threw the stones at a point just beyond the trees. As soon as she had used up the ammunition in her hands, she picked up some more and threw them, then some more and more and more.
Her screams turned to words, and she yelled over and over again, “Leave me alone! What have you done to Eric?”
Meanwhile, Andrea placed the remaining two bags in the boot of the Range Rover.
Beyond the trees, Ursula thought she saw some movement but kept screaming, yelling and throwing stones anyway.
“Ursula do not do that. It is time to go,” snapped Andrea falsely.
After unleashing one last stone, Ursula left the scene of her outrage and got into the car with a huff. Andrea followed, and they immediately drove off.
Two large men were hiding behind a tree near the Meyer villa. Nearby were scattered stones that they had ducked away from when Ursula had thrown them.
One man put his finger to his ear and spoke, “This is Agent Delta. The street kid has gone wacko, and the two birds have flown the nest. We are in pursuit.”
From a distance, it looked as if a soft breeze had just blown the leaves on the tree. Behind it, the men had gone. They left only footprints.
Within ten minutes, Andrea was on the motorway and heading to Prague airport. Outside the car window, the countryside whizzed by, and Ursula watched the fields come and go. She had calmed down and was smiling to herself.
“Time to check, Ursula,” instructed Andrea.
Ursula turned away from the window, pulled the arm rest down and placed her head beside a slender gap to the boot.
“Hi Eric, hi Alexander, are you comfortable?”
From two of the hold-alls came muffled responses in stereo, “Hi Ursula. No.”
Ursula giggled and faced the road.
As she checked her mirror to look at Ursula, Andrea saw two black motorbikes in the distance slaloming between cars.
“We are being followed. We will stick to the plan. It is highly unlikely they know anything about Eric and Alexander,” she announced loudly.
Fifteen minutes later the Range Rover pulled into a space in the multi-story car park opposite Prague’s Terminal 2. Andrea and Ursula jumped out the moment the handbrake was on. Ursula took a rucksack; Andrea took a hold-all, and they walked briskly out of the car park, towards the terminal building. In front of the entrance, they strode past two helmeted motorcyclists who watched them as they entered and then drove away. Waiting in the terminal was the rest of the PAIS school party; Andrea and Ursula were the last to arrive.
Two hours later the flight to Naples, complete with thirty-one children, Miss Evans, three other teachers and Andrea, took off.
Alexander looked at his watch. This was not particularly difficult as it was squashed right up against his nose. The flight had left, and he announced quietly that it was time to go. He undid the zip of his hold-all and beside him Eric did the same. Every muscle in their bodies screamed as they moved. Painfully, they tried to remove themselves from the bags. Their heads appeared first, and Eric used his periscope to check that the car park was empty. It was. Alexander managed to reach the boot and flipped a switch to open it. They rolled out of the bags, out of the car and landed with a thud and a groan on the tarmac.
They worked as fast as they could and filled the two hold-alls with items that Andrea had hidden inside the Range Rover including a tent, ropes and harnesses. When the bags were packed, they put on a polyester dress and grey wig each, locked the car and hobbled off with the bags like two very old women. They did not need to pretend.
Instead of Terminal 2 they headed towards the Freight Terminal. Gradually their legs came back to life, their backs straightened and their necks lost their kinks. By the time they entered the building, they were walking normally again.
Big cardboard boxes, wooden tea chests and plastic covered packages littered the vast hanger of the Freight Terminal. Forklift trucks scooted around them, picking up pieces and moving them to the aircrafts outside near the runway.
A yellow path had been painted on the concrete floor, and a dark arrow pointed them towards a portacabin office situated next to the furthest wall.
Sitting beside the door on an upturned box, was a grey-haired gentlemen reading Le Figaro. When he noticed Alexander and Eric walking towards him, he carefully folded his newspaper and without rushing, stood up.
“Greetings gentlemen, I trust you have had a successful journey thus far,” he said and placed his newspaper under his arm.
Alexander replied first, “Well I am not sure my spine will ever straighten fully again but, as luck would have it, we weren’t followed here. So, it has indeed been successful.”
Eric had turned red and blurted out, “I’m sorry about what happened on the plane last time we met, Captain Hudson. I’ve changed since then.”
A warm smile raised Captain Hudson’s salt and pepper moustache slightly, and he nodded slowly.
“I know you have Eric, Ursula has been very complimentary about you. Now onto other things. I have arranged everything here for our departure. May I suggest we move on tout de suite, as they say in France. I believe time is of the utmost importance, and we can talk during the journey.”
Without rushing, he led them out of the freight terminal. His plane was standing close to the door and stopped Eric dead in his tracks the moment he saw it.
“Are we flying in that?” he asked incredulously.
He gazed at the twin prop plane in front of him. The wing was placed high on the fuselage, and it did not look modern.
“It’s an antique!”
“Apart from the engines cutting out every half an hour and the loose propellers, it’s more than air shape.”
Eric’s mouth dropped open, and Captain Hudson laughed. “Don’t worry. This craft is an N262 Frégate, built in France in nineteen sixty-eight and the first plane I ever flew. When she was taken out of service by l’Armée de l’Air I was able to purchase her, and she has served me well since then.”
“It looks like it should be in a museum,” said Eric, following the adults towards the plane.
“Your father thought she was a wonderful old bird,” said Captain Hudson in a throw-away manner.
“My father!” Eric stopped dead again. “You knew my father?”
“Oh yes. I knew your father for many years and was deeply saddened to hear of his untimely death. I am very sorry for your loss.”
“He was murdered,” stated Eric angrily.
“It would not surprise me young Mr Meyer. Your father had many enemies, and they were unfortunately, rich or powerful or, in most cases, both. He was a good man, but he was more comfortable with cards than with people and did not always leave a good impression. It was why we agreed that he would disappear from the public spotlight.”
“You helped him with this?”
“I did, and not long after I met you for the first time. You were only a few weeks old so I would be very surprised if you remember me.”
“What?”
“Come on. If we have time, I will tell you more on the plane,” replied Captain
Hudson slowly winking. “Let’s go! My co-pilot is waiting.”
Eight hours later, and after one long fuelling stop in Slovenia for both the plane and the people on board, they landed at a small, forgotten airport just outside Naples. It was almost dusk, but the temperature was considerably warmer than in Prague.
The plane came to a standstill next to a large shed with a corrugated iron roof. Somebody had written ‘arrivals lounge’ over its doorway in spray paint, but there was no one around. Parked next to it was a dark green, Fiat hatchback with a trailer, which Andrea had organized for them. Eric and Alexander agreed to meet Captain Hudson back at the plane in two days’ time, at ten in the morning, and then they drove off.
The PAIS school party had arrived six hours earlier. They had unpacked their bags and eaten a quick snack. After lunch, they began a guided tour of the main sights of Pompeii.
Ursula had never been so close to the sea nor to such a historic area. As she stood on a slope leading into the ancient Roman city, she didn’t know where to look. If she looked out from the entrance, she could see the sea glistening only a few kilometres away. If she looked to her right or left, she could see buildings older than she had ever seen before. And if she looked above the entrance she could see Mount Vesuvius, the volcano whose fury had brought about the end of Pompeii. Green shrubs and trees grew on the low slopes and out of the grey, lava beds that rose towards the summit. Near the top, there was nothing but loose volcanic stone. Occasional wisps of smoke blew from the hidden crater. To be so close to such a powerful beast, Ursula found both nerve-racking and exciting.
She could have gazed at Vesuvius or the sea for much, much longer, but her Year 7 peers were walking off and Miss Evans was calling. Andrea trailed behind them and kept a careful eye on Ursula.
The weather was perfect: blue skies, fluffy white clouds and a warm, comfortable temperature. They spent the rest of the day touring the ancient city, but it was impossible to walk around it all. The cobbled roads on which they walked were thousands of years old and had grooves where Roman carts had been pulled down them. Occasionally, large stepping stones in the road blocked their path. Their guide explained that these were for people to cross the road without stepping into the free flowing sewage. When she said this, everyone immediately jumped onto the stones.
All the houses beside the roads were still standing, and it was hard for Ursula to believe that they were two thousand years old. They looked as if they had been abandoned only ten or maybe twenty years ago but not two millennia. The interiors of the houses contained beautiful mosaics showing Roman Gods and customs in well-preserved rooms.
Down one of the streets, they found an ancient theatre. The stone seats were still in a perfect C shape in front of the stage, and small, lion statues marked the aisle between them.
On the edge of the city, they visited the amphitheatre, the home of the city’s gladiators and staged battles. Ursula stood in its dusty centre and imagined being a gladiator. She pictured thousands of Roman spectators surrounding her and waiting for the Emperor to give his thumb up or down to decide her future. She wondered where her future lay. Would she ever return to Saint-Denis? Would the relationship with her grandparents change? Would she have a normal life like other people? These thoughts and more passed through her head as they walked back towards the centre of Pompeii.
On their way, they made a brief stop to look at the Castellum Acquae, where water had entered the city. While they stood there, a group of large and loud American tourists, on a Pompeii tour, joined them. Ursula noted, with some concern that two of the group spent most of the time looking at her rather than the Castellum Acquae. This had not been missed by Andrea, who by the time they left, had already sent a photo of them to Alexander, via her phone.
That night, as she lay in her hotel bed, Ursula recalled all the fantastic things she had seen that day. Meanwhile, Eric lay next to Alexander in their two man tent, unable to sleep, thinking about what the next day would bring.
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Chapter 26 - Under observation
“Status report,” commanded Agent Angel, his voice echoing around the bunker.
He was dressed in black, army fatigues which were warm as well as waterproof. It was damp underground, and years of dripping water mixed with rusting metal had made the solid concrete walls look as if they were stained with blood. Two small but powerful, orange floodlights lit up the area and made the walls look even more gruesome. The tunnels had been built after World War II and had not been used since the early nineties. The years of neglect could be sensed with every inward breath.
If this had been an OSS facility, there was no way it would have been left to fall into such disrepair, thought Agent Angel. But one man’s loss is another’s gain and now they were there they were going to make the most of it.
Eighteen hours earlier a skeleton crew of trusted OSS operatives, all dressed in the same black fatigues, had boarded the plane from the USA to Europe. They consisted of cooks, technicians, doctors, strategists, soldiers and scientists, including Jean Kurtz. Agent Hoover had stayed back to monitor the situation from his observation room.
“Status report,” boomed Agent Angel for the second time.
His voice echoed further down the forgotten tunnels, and it was not friendly. Agent Angel did not like being kept waiting.
“We are good to go in ten,” answered a techie running between computer equipment and a generator.
Silently, Agent Angel counted down from ten. When he reached zero, the generator rumbled loudly into life, and the computers turned on one by one. He didn’t waste time congratulating his team for their hard work.
“Patch me through to Hoover.”
In front of him an operation's centre consisting of computers, surveillance apparatus and communications equipment, was now functional. A little further down the tunnel stood an artillery rack, full of everything from grenades to sub-machine guns to rocket launchers. Side tunnels had been turned into temporary living quarters and, a kilometre away at the tunnel entrance were his private OSS army guarding their location. He was not impressed with the OSS teams’ achievements in such a short space of time and with so little sleep. He expected it, and anything less would not have been good enough.
Hoover’s chubby, red face appeared on one of the five screens.
“I’ve been off the radar for two hours now, Hoover. Tell me what’s happening and make it fast.”
Agent Hoover swallowed hard and began, “Professor Schwarzkopf is on his way, Sir. ETA eleven hours. Team Omega are all in position in Pompeii. They are keeping the Elf and Street Kid under close observation. They are currently watching the two of them digging not far from the Vesuvian gate, on a square north of the Forum. Our Enquiry Team are continuing to investigate the possible location of the remaining pod.
“Send them home!” barked Agent Angel.
“But Sir, they haven’t completed their mission.”
“Don’t argue with me Hoover. We know the pod is in this area and suddenly two of our suspects turn up. That’s neither a coincidence nor divine intervention. They’ll lead us to the pod and then Team Omega will take it from there. Now send the Enquiry Team back home. Watch those screens like a hawk and send us all the feed we need.”
“Yes Sir,” answered Agent Hoover, relieved to end the conversation.
Back in the bunker, the four blank screens suddenly flashed on. Each showed the same scene but from different angles - a party of brightly dressed school children happily digging.
They were in a wide, open area enclosed by two small villas, a cobbled street and a toilet block. Red and white tape prevented tourists from entering their dig site, although many stopped to watch the students as they walked past. A dark skinned girl was standing in the centre of the PAIS school group, surrounded by her peers. She was gazing from the sea to Vesuvius and back again.
Ursula could not decide if being an archaeologist was either really interesting or
really boring. It was like having lots of turns in a lucky dip box but without knowing if there were any prizes left. The only thing she was certain of was that it was dirty work. All the students were covered in dust, and none of their colourful clothes were clean. It was also hard work, and she was thankful that it was not yet the height of summer.
They had each been given a trowel or small spade and a paint brush. They had been told to dig a bit, move their dirt a bit and brush a bit. Most of the children could follow these simple instructions though some secretly wondered why they couldn’t just use a digger instead.
As Ursula sat back down to dig again, she caught site of the two American tourists she had seen the previous day. They had been joined by four more. They were big and looked the same size as American footballers, but they were not wearing any padding. Baseball caps advertising teams she had never heard of and wrap-around sunglasses hid their faces. They were wearing Bermuda shirts so bright that everybody’s eyes were drawn to the patterned material. The ‘tourist’ in the Cub’s cap looked straight at Ursula and flashed her a smile. It was not friendly. Ursula faked a smile back and returned to her work.
From a bench near to the children, Andrea took another six photos and sent them to Alexander via her phone.
Alexander and Eric looked like father and son enjoying the delights of Pompeii. They were both wearing Italian football shirts and matching caps. Eric was carrying a miniature football which he would throw up in the air and catch. Both were holding audio guides to their ears and occasionally they would stop and look at a plan of Pompeii they had bought at the entrance. Alexander was also holding a Nordic pole in his hand. Since the morning he had developed a limp.
At certain points on their tour, they would stop, type the appropriate number into their audio guide and then a voice would tell them some historical information. Unlike other tourists, their tour was not a circular route. Instead, it took them in a straight line from the Marine Gate along the Via dell’Abbondanza to the spot where Alexander had found the pod twelve years previously. On the way, they pretended to be interested in the Basilica, the House of Amarantus and the House of Loreius Tiburtus, so as not to attract unwanted attention. However, they had only two goals: firstly, to find the pod and secondly, to make sure the OSS did not find them.