by Paul Heron
Ringo pulled up to a set of traffic lights. ‘They’re safe in London, for now. But I think they’ll be on the news tonight,’ Michael said.
‘Here we are!’ Mohammad shouted, gesturing towards the university’s Advanced Technology Centre. ‘Let’s go find our bros!’
Ringo parked the car on a dirt track, fifty yards from the university entrance.
‘Put all phones on silent,’ Ahmad said as they all got out.
As they jogged towards the entrance, Ahmad noticed Pirelli tyre tracks and skid marks just in front the gate.
Chapter Twenty
THEY WALKED TOWARDS the building, the security guard was nowhere to be seen. It was too quiet. Of course, it was a Saturday, and the academic year wasn’t due to begin until the following Monday;but still, there should have been lecturers and other staff around preparing for the students’ arrival. This wasn’t normal.
Mohammad found the England football scarf that Eduardo loved so much, lying in the dirt.
‘Maybe he dropped it,’ Michael said, perhaps saying it for his own benefit, in a bid to convince himself. ‘Yes, maybe he just dropped it earlier.’ He tried to remain optimistic.
‘Let’s check out the first floor. That’s where their lab is,’ Mohammad said.
They slowly approached the vacant building whilst scanning everything around them. Upon hearing a loud bang that sounded like a door being kicked through, they ran through the automatic doors that led into the building's reception area. The echoes from their shoes clicking on the polished marble floor made the building feel like it had been deserted, emptied in a hurry.
The four sprinted up the stairs and found Ajit leaning against the wall beside the lift.
‘Ajit!’ Mohammad shouted, for the first time sounding upset.
They ran over to him and saw that he was unconscious, his hands and ankles had been bound with cable ties.
‘Call an ambulance!’ Mohammad shouted at Ahmad as he dropped down onto one knee.
Ahmad pulled his phone from his pocket and crouched down beside Mohammad. ‘You know they’ve left Ajit here as a scare tactic?’
Michael looked down at Ajit, confused. His mind racing. He ran back towards the stairway.
‘Where are you going?’ Ringo shouted.
‘Going to look for a pair of scissors to cut him loose.’
He sprinted back down the stairs – three steps at a time – and barged into the office behind the reception. There, an unconscious security guard lay tied up. Where are the rest of the staff? He ransacked the desk and grabbed a pair of scissors from the top drawer. He cut the guard’s cable ties. The middle-aged man was drowsy, but alive. He put him in the recovery position, placing him down on his right side with his arm acting as a support to his head and neck. He checked he was breathing then left the office ask quick as he’d entered it.
Ajit’s brown skin had become pale.
‘Can one of you get Ajit some water?’ Mohammad shouted.
‘Here,’ Ringo said, coming back from the fountain fifteen feet from where they stood.
‘I’ll call George,’ Michael said. It was as if someone had pinched him to wake him up. The shock of seeing Ajit unconscious had shaken him. This was now real. It finally hit home that he was involved in something.
He headed through the doorway that led to the stairs. Exiting the building towards the car park, he pulled his phone from his pocket and noticed he’d already received a message from George. It read: Scarlett and Anthony are at Scarlett’s house. I’m driving to the uni now. Michael went back to Ajit and the rest.
Mohammad grabbed another cup of water.
When they splashed him with more water, Ajit woke up with a groan.
‘Ajit! You dumbass! I’ve got news for you. You’re a good cook. You’re okay with technology. But self-defence? You’re terrible!’ Mohammad shouted.
‘Go away,’ Ajit replied, rubbing his neck while struggling to keep his eyes open.
‘Where’s Eduardo?’ Michael asked.
‘What do you mean? Isn’t he here?’
Michael didn’t like what his next question was going to be.
But Ahamd asked before Michael. ‘And L’amico?’
Ajit didn’t reply.
‘Does Eduardo have it?’ Michael asked.
Ajit shrugged. He looked disoriented, like he didn’t even know who he was.
‘What do you remember, Ajit? Anything at all, pal?’ Ringo asked.
‘I’m sorry. Nothing much. My mind is a bit foggy. But because Eduardo has a fear of lifts, he took the stairs. I chose the lift.’
‘You mean you’re lazy.’ Mohammad griped, clearly upset.
‘Look who’s talking.’ Ajit snarled. ‘When the door to the lift opened, all I remember is stepping out and getting hit from behind. Then the next thing I remember is waking up, and listening to his abuse.’ He looked at Mohammad. Ajit tried sitting up.
‘Easy does it. Careful...’ Ringo said, helping Ajit to get more comfortable.
‘I wish I could just have my afternoon tea,’ Ajit said. ‘In fact, I wish I could just go to my room and fall asleep and forget all of this. This has got to be a bloody nightmare! All of it! We’re all stuck in this bloody nightmare.’
Michael could relate. He went outside to wait for the ambulance. He sat on a low level wall facing the field to the left side of the building. He thought about Ireland, wishing he would just wake up. He agreed with Ajit, they were all trapped in a nightmare.
George pulled up in his car.
‘You okay?’ George asked as Michael approached the car. George stepped out and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. ‘Come over here a minute.’
They both sat on a bench by the entrance. They gazed across the endless sea of fields, lined with evergreen trees and sloping hills, certainly under normal circumstances, a picturesque place to study.
‘Michael,’ George said. ‘None of us chose to be involved in this. And nobody said it was going to be easy.’
Michael’s eyes filled with water.
George offered Michael a handkerchief. ‘Like Elisabetta told you, you are all very gifted individuals. You’re the seven most powerful individuals on this planet, Michael. Let that sink in for a moment. Yes it’s scary, yes it’s uncomfortable. But, the Sirani Foundation is here to support you. Anything you need. And those six others you met yesterday, sitting nervously around the table in Herberts, ultimately they’re going to be the ones you can count on. And nobody knows why she chose you, Michael. There must be a reason. You wrote a great story, yes. But it’s more than that, she had her eyes on you since you were born. The big question is why does Elisabetta think so highly of you? But my guess is: you’ll find that out before the rest of us. And, next time I ask you not to contact your family, please listen to me. I’m not telling you to do things just for fun, you know.’
Michael’s face drained. Shock hit him. He looked at George. ‘But... what...’
‘Mancini Corporation intercepted the text, Michael.’ George sighed. ‘You told him quite a lot, your dad.’
He looked at Michael, who appeared ready to cry.
‘Mancini Corporation also received intelligence from Little Camberly police: a video you sent to the lady working behind the bar. That video has allowed Mancini agents to confirm your new identities.’
Michael felt an overbearing sense of guilt. ‘You mean this is my fault?’ All he could think of was Eduardo, wherever he was, and Ajit. ‘Well, that’s enough proof for you that I shouldn’t be leading this. Clearly, I can’t be trusted, and now Eduardo is gone; Ajit’s been hurt. It is my fault.’
George turned and looked Michael in the eye. ‘Yes, we could dismiss you, but I prefer to give people second chances. Besides, I don’t think Elisabetta would be too happy with me.’
Michael could not contain his tears any longer.
‘And your secret is safe with me. The others don’t need to know. Not until it’s been resolved anyway.’ George said. He tappe
d Michael on the knee. ‘Now go and be the person Elisabetta knows you can be.’
Michael stood up. He wiped away the tears on his face.
‘Thanks, George.’ He stood tall with his head high; his posture was that of a confident man. ‘I won’t let you down. We need to get to London to pick up the others.’
George seemed pleased with Michael’s change of attitude. ‘You need to be fast, before the ambulance comes. None of you can be seen. We don’t know who we can trust. It’s literally us against the world. I’ll stay behind and go to the hospital with Ajit. And please don’t forget to find Elisabetta’s book. If they get their hands on it, we’ll have a problem we could do without.’
Michael ran inside, back to the others. He looked at Ajit. ‘We’ll be back in a few hours. We’ll see you soon. George will go to the hospital with you.’
‘I’ve heard stories about hospital food being terrible.’
Mohammad and Ringo laughed.
‘It’s horrible!’ Mohammad teased. ‘Buon appetito!’
‘Cool, let’s go,’ Ringo said, tossing his key from his left hand to his right. ‘The roads will be busy at this time of day, so we’ll be a few hours.’
Chapter Twenty-One
DURING THE DRIVE TO London, Michael spent most of the time staring at his phone. His body was in the car, but his mind was elsewhere; upset about the news George had given him, but at the same time, he was grateful for a second chance. He had a chance to put things right. Slowly he was beginning to care about the people around him. Seeing Ajit lying there helpless reminded him of how fragile life is. And even though he didn’t really know any of them, whether he liked it or not, they were thrust together.
He received a message from Scarlett: I’m at my house. Anthony has gone back to the shop. Please be careful. Scarlett. X
Mohammad, Ringo, and Ahmad were joking about the unbelievable situation they’d been dropped into. After just a day and a half, Michael knew that when Mohammad was around, jokes were around.
‘So...if someone asks me have I ever been to Italy, what do I say?’ Mohammad asked, ‘I don’t want to be a liar.’
Ringo was tapping the rim of the steering wheel to the beat of a current pop song. ‘Tell them you’ve been to beautiful Tuscany, and that instead of travelling by car, ship or airplane, you travelled through a portal. It’s eco-friendly travel; no carbon footprint!’
Mohammad exploded with laughter, ‘Yes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent me off to get my head examined.’
Michael, while managing to at least find a spec of amusement in their current reality and Mohammad, checked his phone to see what was happening in the news. The news update for the local area mentioned Deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland, Oisin McLaughlin had suddenly stepped down and was being replaced by a lady named Fionnoula O’Leary. She’s nice, Michael thought to himself, looking at a photo of her standing at the steps of Stormont Castle. He laughed to himself, the thought of them being taken over by Mancini Coporation and whoever was behind the organisation. But then he noticed something in the photo that chilled him to the bone. A dark hooded figure wearing black rags standing directly behind the newly appointed minister, towering over her, almost twice the height. From the shadow under the hood, there was no face, only two sockets.
‘Take a look at this, tell me you see the black figure behind the lady with blond hair.’ He handed his phone to Mohammad.
Mohammad took the phone and looked at the photo. His eyes narrowed. ‘What are you talking about? What black figure?’ He handed the phone to Ahmad.
Ahmad did the same. ‘I see nothing, Michael.’ He handed the phone back to Michael.
Michael looked at it again. This time the figure was standing directly beside the minister. ‘I think this is him.’
‘Who?’ Mohammad said.
‘The Dark One,’ Michael said, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Under his sleeves, a similar sensation came from the hairs on his forearms. ‘Look, beside her, the dark figure. He looks like the bloody grim reaper.’ He held the screen in front of Mohammad.
‘I see no figure. Just that pretty Irish lady.’
Carolina Calling flashed across the screen.
‘Carolina?’
‘We’ve seen the same group of three people since we left Cole’s office. We’re keeping our distance even though Marcel’s itching to go over to them. Have you found Eduardo and Ajit?’
‘Eduardo, no. Ajit’s on his way to hospital with George in an ambulance.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Ajit’s okay now. Someone hit him on the back of the head; he was unconscious when we found him. We’re not sure where Eduardo is, but Ajit thinks, and we hope, he has L’amico.’
‘This is bad, Michael. That device is not something we should lose. What’s our plan?’ Carolina started to sound like Sofia.
‘Well, first of all, we need to get you guys out of London. We’ll be with you soon.’
‘We’re on Oxford Street. See you in a while.’ Carolina ended the call.
‘We’re thirty minutes from London, but that’s without traffic,’ Ringo shouted. He led the SUV down the A5 which had less traffic than the M4 motorway.
They arrived at Bent Cross Flyover then turned right onto the A40, which ran straight through London, past Westminster, and into the city centre.
Upon arrival, they could all appreciate the sheer beauty of inner city London, particularly on arrival at Oxford Street.
‘Wow,’ Ahmad said as they cruised along the famous street. ‘I’ve never been to London before.’ Pulling his phone from his jacket pocket he took photographs of everything.
‘Neither have I,’ Michael said. ‘Mohammad, call George and tell him we’re close to the rest. Ask him how Ajit is, too. I’ll call Sofia. They need to be ready to go. We can’t be hanging around. Especially if they’ve been followed from Coles’s office.’
Ringo pulled over in a parking bay behind a row of Uber taxi cabs.
Sofia answered instantly.
‘We’re on Oxford Street, where are you now?’ Michael spoke in Italian, again like translating Spanish earlier, he was more fluent than he thought.
‘We’re inside Top Shop.’
‘We’ll be there in two minutes. We’re in the Range Rover.’
He checked Google Maps for the exact location. It was just past five in the afternoon, and the shops would be closing at six. The road was crowded with people and cars, which, under the circumstances was a good thing; it ensured that the Mancini agents wouldn’t try anything in public view.
‘Have you spoken to George?’ Michael looked at Mohammad.
‘Calling him now,’ Mohammad said. He stopped taking photos and called George with the phone on loudspeaker. It rang once before being answered. ‘George?’
‘Yes, Mohammad. What’s your update?’
‘Update? We’re about to kill it. We’re the winning team!’ Mohammad said, clearing his throat.
Michael looked at him.
‘It’s okay to be nervous, Mohammad. In fact, I’d be surprised and a little worried if you weren’t,’ George said. ‘Have you found them yet?’
‘We’re close. How’s Ajit?’ He cleared his throat again.
‘He’s fine. He said please bring him some Indian flat bread.’
‘Roger that. We’ll call you back soon. We’re about to kick some ass here.’ The last few words danced off his vocal chords. He took a deep breath and hung up.
Ringo turned off the radio.
Michael was back on the phone to Sofia.
Mohammad fiddled with his beard nervously.
Michael didn’t feel completely sure about what they were doing, or about his ability to lead them. In fact, he had no idea what he was doing. He'd hoped he was given some kind of blueprint or ability like his obvious ability to speak languages and swim a lake underwater. He was under no illusions. He knew they were in danger. If they were to be caught, and imprisoned, he had no idea h
ow they would get out of that mess. It would be almost an impossible story to explain.
He finally broke the silent tension in the car. ‘There’s nothing to do now but go for it. Let’s not think, just act. Surprise them every step of the way.’
He looked at Ringo’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. It seemed that all of them felt just as nervous as he did.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘WE’RE STANDING DIRECTLY outside Topshop,’ Sofia shouted. ‘What are you all waiting for?’
‘We’re at a junction. About one hundred yards to your right, and... hold on...’ Michael craned his head out of the window, spotting the three of them looking out of place. Attracting more attention than they’d want. ‘I see you. Ringo, keep going...hold on a second, Ringo. No, stop!’ Michael shouted as one of the taxi cabs pulled out from the side of the road.
‘They’re here, Sofia. Parked next to the recycling station in front of you.’
‘That car was at the gallery today,’ Ahmad said, sounding agitated.
‘I seen them at the bookstore, too,’ Michael added. Hold on a second, Ringo. I’m calling George.’
George answered almost immediately. ‘What’s going on down there?’
‘The agents that came to the gallery yesterday, what were they driving?’
The tension in the car grew by the second. A car horn in the distance caused them all to jump in shock. All of them a nervous wreck. None of them knowing what they should do. It was like a game of chess. Only the next move could be their last.
‘A grey BMW. An X6 model, SUV with black tinted windows,’ George said. ‘I remember the registration plate had the word “GRACIAS” in it.’
Michael looked at the vehicle in front of the shop. The Mancini agents had gotten there before them. He swallowed. ‘It’s them, Sofia, it’s them.’
‘Listen to me, you lot. Do not get caught, there’s no turning back if you do,’ George shouted.
‘What are we going to do, Michael?’ Even Mohammad’s spirits were lower than usual. Perhaps he’d finally grasped the scale of what they were involved in.