by James Flynn
The memory faded into a haze. It was not who he was anymore.
A car engine rattled behind him on the road. Opposite him rose the breathtaking mountain range. The laboratory stood about 800 yards down in front of him, there was an aura around the place, and Luke wasn’t sure if it was because very few people on the planet could grasp the work that went on there.
All of a sudden, there was movement down in the Gran Sasso facility car park. Luke reached down and lifted his brand new binoculars to his eyes, honing in on a black Mazda 4x4 that was pulling into a parking space. As the two front doors opened simultaneously, he readjusted focus to zoom in on faces. The passenger was easily six-feet-three tall, and no older than twenty-five. He wore a pristine Carabinieri uniform, the black jacket and hat were perfectly pressed. The driver was a direct contrast to the neatly turned-out passenger, he was a lot older, wore a freshly grown beard and had dark skin, Luke guessed he was Sicilian by birth. He was not a small man but compared to his younger colleague he looked it. He did not wear a uniform, instead he was dressed smart casual in a pair of beige chinos and a long black overcoat that was buttoned up to the top; from his demeanor it was obvious he was in charge.
Luke committed both faces to memory. There was no surprise in the Carabinieri being involved, it was a high-profile case, perhaps not in terms of global media but Group 9 did not concern itself with trivial things, there was something deeper at work. Luke could feel in his bones that it all centred around the specific work Professor Vittorio had been undertaking. Staring out over the facility, framed by the snow-peaked mountains, Luke wondered about the mind-bending work that was taking place beneath the earth.
He stretched his legs into the footwell trying to keep blood moving and stop cramp setting in. He was intrigued by the Carabinieri officers and decided that he would wait for them to leave and then follow. They were as good a place to start as any.
***
Chung Su passed the taxi driver a wad of euros through the plastic partition. His eyes lit up and he stammered and mumbled thanks in Italian, before running around to open her door. She stepped out into the low afternoon sun, slid on her thin black sunglasses and straightened her immaculate black trouser-suit. The driver placed her one suitcase onto the tarmac of Via Alcide De Gasperi, then jumped back in his taxi and drove off.
Chung Su looked up at the Hotel Sporting, it was not a particularly appealing building, it reminded her of a spacecraft launch site due to the interconnecting array of walkways extending from its right-hand side. It had been a long journey, an epically long journey but she had arrived now and needed to focus. She extended the handle on the travel case and headed toward the main entrance.
“Buon pomeriggio, Signorina. How may I help you this afternoon?”
Chung Su was still a little unsure with Italian, she hadn’t been given long to learn.
“Good afternoon, I would like to check in, I have a reservation under Chung, Chung Su.” She lifted off the sunglasses as she spoke.
The man checked his computer, “yes, here we are, welcome Miss Chung. I believe you will be staying with us for seven days, is that correct?”
“Yes, that is correct,” she hoped it would be a lot less.
“Fantastic, you will be in one of our top-floor suites. I shall get Roberto to help you with your luggage and show you to your room. I hope you enjoy your stay with us and if you need anything please do not hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you.”
The receptionist waved over a porter, who scurried across the floor and grabbed Chung Su’s case. . She felt anxious; the Gala was not for another two days and in her current state that seemed a long time away.
8.
“Excuse me, Signor, would you like another?”
“No thank you.”
The waiter let out a sigh and walked back towards his vantage point by the cake counter. It was the fourth time he had asked Luke if he could get him anything else, and it was the fourth time Luke had answered no. He had been nursing the same latte for the past forty-five minutes. He was pretending to read the Sunday Teramo newspaper but in fact had spent the time stealing glances at the aged Carabinieri and his young colleague who were sat on the opposite side of the café chatting and reading through files. He was still wary of the older more senior officer, he was conscious of his surroundings and kept a sharp eye on the people entering and leaving the premises. Luke spent his life assessing and judging individuals, it allowed him to predict their behaviour, and he was trying to build a picture of the two men. He was fairly confident that they were the only people really pursuing and investigating the Vittorio case, the facial expressions and the lazy way they chatted seemed to indicate that they had no real information to act upon. Perhaps he would do some exploration himself for the rest of the day and then pick the officers back up in the evening, maybe they would have made some progress. He took a handful of napkins from a silver centerpiece holder and proceeded to wipe the rim and handle of his cup. He then stuffed the napkins into his pocket and dropped some change onto the saucer before leaving the café and heading west back towards his car.The air was starting to become sharp as the sun descended in the sky; the breeze was now a harsh wind. Luke made sure that once away from the Café Massif he put as many angles between it and him as he could, every few hundred yards he would swap street sides and make a point of checking both ways before he crossed.
There was no one following.
What made this operation difficult was the lack of information he had been provided. It was evident that the whole operation had been cobbled together in a rush, and as per usual it was the ground operative who was expected to patch things together. Still, Luke had never needed micro-management. In truth, he liked the isolation of his work, Group 9 operatives always worked alone, and it suited him. He never felt fully connected to the world he inhabited, people passed by and he saw them as nothing but items to assess. Each turn in the road, every street corner he passed, they were all just objects that came together in his mind as a tapestry of assessments and conclusions, he had no emotional connection to any of them. They were just objectives … objectives were the only real companion he had, and a vital one. Just as a friend can alleviate pain, so objectives consoled Luke Temple. They were his coping mechanism, and his Group 9 handlers had been only too ready to encourage it. All of this was what kept him alive, but it came at a price, a price that he battled with every day.
Moving north he passed by a narrow alley leading between two shops, the only entrance and exit was from the road. Luke checked his pace, crossed the road and started back in the direction he had come, this time examining the alley from the other side of the street. What had grabbed his attention were three large green bins stood in a line against the left wall of the alley, the shops obviously used them for dumping their rubbish.
He crossed again and this time casually veered off and down the alleyway. Once at the line of bins he flipped the large hinge lid of the first one and a foul stench escaped. Luke grimaced and tucked the wad of napkins under the decomposing contents of several black bin liners. He pulled out his hand and examined it with disgust, it was now covered in some form of rotting slime. He cursed and bent to the floor to wipe it across the ground.
Footsteps clicked behind him; he span round and saw a man, or what had once been a man; the look in his eyes was now vacant and black bags hung low, he couldn’t have weighed more than eight stone and his hair was wiry and greasy. Luke’s senses came to life, he glanced up the alleyway toward the street, the entrance was still clear.
“Got any change?”
Luke ran his fingers across the top of his waistband to check the Sig Sauer was still tucked in place, the man was edgy.
“Sorry, I haven’t got any money on me.” Luke turned and began to walk back to the street, his ears listening intently as the man scuttled after him.
“Just a little bit, that’s all I need, a little bit, you must have something? Come on, you are wearing nice s
tuff, just a little bit of money.”
Luke now had a decision to make. He stopped. This guy would have no worries about continuing the harassment on the main street, but it was attention Luke did not want.
“I am really sorry but I honestly don’t have any change.”
“Oh ok … no change, no money.”
The guy was twitchy and unfocused, classic drug addict behaviour. Luke subconsciously planted both feet shoulder-width apart. The man snapped suddenly. “What do you mean, no money? No money, no money, huh? You got to give me money, just a little, that’s all.” He pulled a knife from out of his stained trousers; it was a kitchen knife, but Luke could see the blade was blunt.
At first the man didn’t move, he just held it, his hand shaking, hoping the sight of it would make Luke crumble and hand over money. Luke shot a glance back to the main street, still no one had taken interest in the alleyway, but that would not last.
“Listen, how about I go and get some money from the …” Luke exploded forward. Before the man even had a chance to let out a scream Luke crashed his right elbow solidly under the man’s chin; he had hit people harder but the shock of it and the weakness of the opponent sent the man crashing to the floor. The knife clattered away. Without hesitation, Luke rolled down his sleeve so it covered his hand, picked up the knife and threw it into one of the bins, before walking swiftly past the fallen man.
Without looking back, he strolled out onto the main street and continued his journey to his car.
9.
The sky was littered with stars; it was a perfectly clear night. The moon was high above the Gran Massif mountains and it cast an eerie bluish tinge as it hit the snow on the mountain peaks. Lights twinkled and flickered on the slopes, inhabitants were going about their evening routines, tucked up in the warm with lit fires. During the winter months Teramo was a postcard town. The first snow had fallen some weeks ago but had been blown away by the winds, which had also brought a chill. More snow was coming.
Chung Su could not deny the beauty of Teramo, of the Abruzzo region as a whole; it actually reminded her of her beloved homeland, mountains and snow-tipped peaks. North Korea had harsh winters, it was not unheard of for the poorer regions to lose several hundred people each year due to overexposure. It was not the government’s fault, they tried as hard as they could to supply coal, but nothing in her homeland was easy, trade agreements and sanctions crippled the country – the thought of it angered her.
Her long brown coat was wrapped tight around her body, a black Cossack hat covered her head, and her strong cheekbones were tinged red from the cold wind. She had wanted to stroll in the crisp air to help collect her thoughts. She had successfully managed to get some sleep but it had only served to make her hazy and lethargic. She was now strolling down Ponte San Gabriele heading into Teramo. It was 8.45 p.m. and she had no particular place to be, tomorrow would be the first proper day. Her orders still rang clear in her head, causing a sinking feeling in her gut. What they wanted her to do was completely out of her usual sphere of employment, she was more used to particle spacing and theories of nuclear energy release, not being sent halfway around the world on a government-sanctioned reconnaissance trip.
Walking alone in a strange country Chung Su felt uneasy, in truth she was scared, but she knew that fear was not an emotion that her leader approved of. She often used the image of her esteemed leader and the way he led the country to help her overcome moments of fear or pain in her life, but being so far away from her beloved land she was finding it difficult. I can leave soon. The thought of leaving was not an easy avenue to relaxation, it was tinged with a dark cloud. The only thing the leader, and therefore the nation, despised more than cowardice was failure. She shuddered at the thought.
Miss Chung I want to be very clear with you, this is a task of upmost importance for the country and no good citizen should let down the state because everything we do is to ensure power over our enemies.
Chung Su shuddered at the memory of the uniformed man who had shown up at her research institute. He had been small and squat, his military issue hat had swamped his head. He had taken her to a small room to explain what the state wanted from her. The last words he had spoken still echoed in her ears. His yellow-stained teeth were set in a wide smile: I know you won’t fail, Miss Chung. After all, how can one live with themselves if they fail our glorious nation?
She stopped on a small bridge where two roads crossed one under the other. She reprimanded herself for her cowardice and reminded herself it was a privilege to be tasked with an important mission. She tried to make it convincing.
A car passed behind and sprayed light fleetingly across her raw cheeks. She decided that she had got enough fresh air for one night and began walking back up to the hotel.
The Gala… her heart fluttered at the thought of the Gala. It was the reason she had been selected. Every year the leading names in particle physics and scientific excellence descended on a secret location in the town of Teramo where CERN and the Gran Sasso Institute held a special event celebrating new discoveries, theories and physics contributions to the world. It was an invitation-only event and was held in great secrecy. She had almost screamed her office down when the invite had landed on her desk; it was a true honour. She was probably one of the very few little girls who had dreamed about working with the world’s greatest scientific minds; after years of studying and hard work she was now being offered a chance to interact. Growing up in what the world classed as a rogue state had never helped her chances, but finally her and her collaborators work could not be ignored. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and it was taking place in two days’ time. The jubilation quickly left her, swept away with the cold wind. The opportunity had been hijacked ...
***
Beltrano had interviewed hundreds of individuals during his career and had refined his ability to read between the lines. It was much easier when the individual being interviewed was intimidated by police and criminal procedures, with those people it took little prodding and prying to get to the truth.
“Try again, Professor, just run us through the last evening you saw him. You said you stayed late with Vittorio?”
Professor Brun exhaled in exasperation, he had been confined in the small office for hours and the questions had been relentless.
Delvechi stood by the window, periodically peering through the blinds, bored. He had been huffing and stomping his way around the small office, occasionally throwing in a comment or a question. Beltrano had given him very little response or attention as the hours ticked by, his attention had been focused on Brun.
“I have told you over and over, I can’t quite understand what it is you do not understand. This is all so tiresome, there is simply nothing more that I can tell you. Unless you want me to start adding fiction to the story to make it interesting for you?”
Delvechi went to say something but was cut short by Beltrano raising a hand. “Just the truth, Professor.”
Brun snapped for the first time. “This is ridiculous.”
Delvechi loomed up over him. “Well maybe we should just arrest you, Professor, then we can keep you here overnight until we are satisfied.”
Beltrano put a hand on Delvechi’s shoulder.
“Officer Beltrano, I think it is time that I left, I have very important results to go over.” Brun went to stand.
“Please sit, Professor.”
Brun reluctantly re-took his seat.
“Do you smoke, Professor?” Beltrano pushed his hand inside his jacket, producing a silver cigar holder. He flipped it open and inside were three Toscano Antica Riserva Cigars. Brun did smoke but only on very rare occasions. He hadn’t seen a Toscano for a long time. He picked one out and also picked up the silver cutter that lay next to it. Beltrano offered a light.
Delvechi watched from his perch on the windowsill.
Beltrano rubbed his eyes, the skin around them was darker than normal. “You can’t beat that first intake, the crackle of th
e first flakes of tobacco that catch light, so simple but so satisfying. I like simple pleasures, complicated things just don’t sit as well with me. I think there is something so beautiful about simplicity.”
Brun stayed silent.
“I’m guessing you are not so turned on by simplicity, Professor? What you do probably involves a range of complexities, a mixture of complex actions and complex outcomes.” Beltrano took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly.
Brun shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the cigar giving off a stream of smoke from his hand. Beltrano sighed and rolled up his sleeves; he took another long drag, “That’s where we differ, we are looking for different things, I look to take the complexities out of life, that’s my job, to take away any sort of complexities and find simplicity.”
“I’m assuming in your analogy you are taking complexities as lies, and simplicity as truth? Officer, surely someone in your position must know that truth is rarely simple.”
Beltrano took a moment for thought, sucking and billowing his cheeks in quick puffs. “No, that is where we disagree, Professor, truth is always simple, solid, stable, unchangeable. People try to complicate the truth, but it never alters, the truth remains the truth, to put it in your terms the truth does not react with anything around it. You can hide it, but not change it.”
Brun sat forward in his chair and loosened his blue-patterned tie. His grey hair was thinning on top and the skin around his eyes had deep crow’s feet, but those eyes shone with vitality. “Are you insinuating that I am lying? Perhaps you are jaded by your profession, Officer.”
“Oh I most certainly am, yes, but you’d be surprised how much being jaded, as you put it, helps to sharpen my instinct.”
Delvechi let out a yawn and leant against the wall.
“Officer Beltrano, we have been over and over things this evening, I have nothing left to add.” Brun took a long inhale and blew a cloud of smoke toward the floor. “Perhaps it is you that is now complicating things.”