The Second Renaissance Series Boxset

by Paul Heron

  During the rest of the journey, nobody spoke. Even Mohammad didn’t feel the need to say anything silly. But Michael couldn’t stop his mind from racing. As they arrived at the steep hill that led up to Ringo’s house, Michael was deep in thought, trying to piece together what was now his crazy life.

  George called again. ‘It might be safer to stay away from Little Camberly.’

  ‘They can use my house. It’s quiet for now, but I’m not sure for how much longer,’ Ringo said.

  ‘Great.’ George said. ‘And great news: Ajit has just designed a tracking app to find Eduardo and L’amico.’

  ‘What?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Remember yesterday? When you first witnessed L’amico, and you asked Ajit to guard it, and have something in place in the event it ever got lost or stolen? Well, he’s done that. Hopefully, it’ll help us find Eduardo.’

  ‘And my parents,’ Ahmad said as the car pulled up to Ringo's estate. It rolled through the enormous wooden gates that operated via remote control.

  ‘This is beautiful.’ Carolina spoke through a yawn, rubbing her heavy eyes.

  ‘This is home,’ Ringo said. ‘But I doubt for much longer. We all knew our lives would change when you lot arrived.’ He stopped the car, looked at them all individually, ‘but this is just a house. We’re all about to enter an international game of hide and seek. Our lives are about to really get interesting.’

  The sunset caused the white mansion and gardens to change colour; a mixture of orange, yellow, red, and pink. Rose bushes climbed up the side of the house. The house itself was a white, boxy, modern style of architecture. Some parts looked futuristic. The main building was raised ten feet off the ground on steel beams, allowing Ringo to park the car underneath.

  Just after ten that night, after some food, everyone went to bed, except Michael. At least they wouldn’t have nightmares; their dreams couldn’t possibly be as scary as their real life had become.

  Waiting for Ajit to arrive, Michael went to sit down under the stars in the front garden. The clear sky caused the night to feel cool and fresh. The open space allowed him to feel more at ease. The feeling of being boxed in had overwhelmed him since he’d arrived in England, all those eyes, all that pressure. But Ringo’s estate gave a certain sense of freedom. Freedom with the added benefit of privacy.

  He watched a shooting star zap from west to east across the night sky. ‘And what do I do tomorrow?’ he asked the sky, unsure if it would give him a reply. Beneath all the fear, he felt very exhilarated.

  He looked at news on his phone: the home page was titled Trouble On London’s Oxford Street. He saw images of them all caught on camera; his stomach churned.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  MICHAEL WOKE UP AT six thirty the next morning, lying on his back. Above him, the pastel sky stretched on forever, creamy with clouds. He had aches and pains after a night on the grass. But camping out was something he'd loved to do in Ireland, and a little back ache was worth it. He loved the freedom it brought, being liberated and not confined to four walls.

  The sound of the birds chirping in the trees was a fond memory of those camping trips. Looking down he realized he was covered with a black blanket. A white pillow rested beneath his head. He wasn’t bothered how, just grateful.

  He checked his phone and found a message. From Scarlett:

  I found you sleeping when I got here last night. I didn’t want to wake you, but you looked cold so, in case you’re wondering, I brought you the blanket and pillow. Sweet dreams. Scarlett. X.

  ‘She’s sweet.’ Michael laughed. ‘Under that sexy agent exterior; she’s obviously a sweetheart deep down.’

  Flowers danced in the breeze just feet away. A sense of tranquility washed over him as he took in the breath-taking landscape. He wasn’t used to such natural beauty; trouble-stricken Belfast, which reminded him of an urban concrete jungle with broken bottles, bricks, burnt out cars, shattered windows, and vacant houses, was what Michael was more used to.

  After a moment of silence, he was startled out of his daydream. ‘Ajit! When did you get here?’

  ‘George dropped me off ten minutes ago.’

  ‘And George?’ Michael asked as he stood up, stretching his limbs almost to the point of popping them out of joint.

  ‘He had to go to the gallery. He’s meeting with another Sirani agent to discuss Garcia. He said he will be back in a while.’ Ajit planted himself down on the grass.

  ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better. What did the doctor say?’

  ‘The doctor asked me about the strange substance in my blood. He pissed me off, hinting at me at being an addict.’

  Michael laughed. ‘So, they did drug you, then? The Mancini agents?’

  Ajit nodded. ‘The doctor didn’t know what to give me, but George had an antidote, then he had a quiet word in the doctor’s ear.’

  They both cast their bloodshot eyes over the grounds of Ringo’s house, admiring all his cars. It looked like a supercar dealership. But it was just a rich man’s toys. ‘Ringo is a fortunate man; I would love to live here,’ Ajit said.

  Michael pulled Ajit up. ‘Let’s go. God knows what else is in store today. But looking at these fancy cars isn’t going to find Eduardo and clear our names.’

  They entered the house. Rumbling snores came from the lounge to the left of a spiraling staircase. The house was enormous, with ceilings high enough to warrant a lift to the next floor. They entered the lounge to find Mohammad sleeping on an L-shaped sofa.

  ‘MORNING!’ Ajit screamed at the top of his voice, startling Mohammad awake.

  With clenched fists, Mohammad rubbed his eyes. ‘Where are we?’ His skin made cling film noises as he peeled himself off the leather.

  ‘Ringo’s house, don’t tell me old age is causing memory loss already?’ Michael threw a pillow at Mohammad’s face.

  ‘Thanks,’ Mohammad said, placing the extra pillow behind his head. ‘Just what I needed, thanks, chief!’

  Ajit and Michael sat on the edge of the sofa.

  Mohammad stretched his arms overhead, a vacant expression on his face. ‘Morning.’

  ‘Why’d you sleep down here?’ Michael said.

  ‘I went to bed for a while, but thought this would be more fun. If someone came, I could be the hero and save the day.’

  ‘By snoring?’ Ajit said.

  ‘Now I wish I just slept in the bed,’ he said as he rolled over again. Slowly rising, he caressed the side of his neck, looking like he’d suffered whiplash. ‘I’ve a sore head, and I don’t like this suit, or this beard – it’s too itchy.’

  ‘Morning, chaps!’ Ringo interrupted. He entered the room scratching his head looking confused. Sofia, Marcel, and Carolina followed him in.

  ‘You’re back? How are you feeling?’ Marcel asked, slapping Ajit affectionately.

  ‘Fine, bit groggy, but okay.’

  ‘What would you like for breakfast?’ Carolina asked. ‘I’ll cook.’ She rolled her blouse sleeves up.

  ‘Something Brazilian?’ Ajit suggested. ‘If we’re all stuck in this nightmare together, we may as well learn a bit about eachother.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Marcel said.

  ‘I don’t like Brazilian food,’ Mohammad mumbled.

  ‘Have you ever tried it?’ Ringo asked. He went to open the window to let some fresh air into the room.

  ‘No, never, unless it’s flat bread and rice.’ Mohammad said.

  Sofia laughed. ‘You need to try new things.’

  ‘What like strolling through a portal and ending up in some weird dimension where apparently the Irish gods are fighting?’ Mohammad said. ‘That kind of new thing?’

  Ahmad entered the room, his eyes fixed on his phone, appearing more relaxed than yesterday. Michael wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to have him around, seeing that he was such a loose cannon. But on the other hand, after calming down, he understood Ahmad’s anger. He’d do the same thing if it were his parents.

  A chime sou
nded, steeling everyone’s attention.

  ‘That’s the front gate,’ Ringo said.

  ‘Where’s your butler?’ Mohammad teased.

  Ringo ran to the CCTV office in the corner of the room. ‘It’s George.’

  ‘Great,’ Michael said. He left the room to meet him coming in.

  George pulled up to the house in a black Mercedes. It was gleaming, as if it had just been driven from the showroom.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Michael asked, noticing the serious – business as usual – expression on George’s face.

  George stepped out of the car. Slowly standing up straight, feeding his tie into his buttoned suit jacket. His eyes scanned the garden, making sure the gate had closed behind him. ‘I’ve received a message. Let’s go inside and I’ll tell everyone.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  THE UPBEAT ATMOSPHERE and hope of a new day and new start was diminished when George walked in with his usual serious expression. Michael knew their mood was very unstable, and a fear of bad news kept him from getting too excited. Everything felt surreal. Nobody knew how to feel; they were all still strangers to one another. George lowered himself onto the leather sofa where Mohammad had spent the night.

  Everything in Ringo’s house was luxurious. The enormous cream leather sofa in the shape of an L, big enough for ten people, and like the seats in his cars, all cream leather. Michael and the rest of the group weren’t used to that lifestyle. Then again, their previous lives could never be compared to anything that lay before them.

  ‘You’ve a beautiful home, more beautiful than I remember,’ George said, caressing the sofa.

  ‘George, you didn’t just come here to talk about the sofa, did you?’ Carolina said.

  George replied with a smile. He seemed to be avoiding the topic. ‘You’re right. I’ve heard from the people who drugged Ajit and kidnapped Eduardo. It’s definitely who we thought it was.’

  ‘So, now what?’ Marcel asked. ‘And where’s Eduardo?’

  The silence felt prickly. The second hand of the grandfather clock ticked more noticeably than before, the sound of a fly circling the room added more proof to the atmosphere.

  George sighed. ‘They’ve taken Eduardo because they know he and Ajit have created a device. A device more sophisticated than the world has ever seen. I don’t know where they got their information from, but they know.’ He looked at Michael.

  Michael was overcome with guilt and couldn’t hold it in any longer. ‘It was me, I’m sorry. I contacted my dad at the gallery. I told him everything, hoping he would tell me it was all nonsense and somehow bring me back home.’ He looked at the faces in front of him. ‘I’m not fit to be in charge of this. Elisabetta has made a mistake choosing me.’

  Nobody uttered a word. That bothered Michael the most. They didn’t react to what he said, yet the expression on all their faces said the same thing: we thought we could trust you.

  Michael sat down on the far edge of the sofa, creating distance from himself and the rest of the group.

  The others just looked back to George for answers. They certainly didn’t have faith in Michael anymore.

  He sat in silence with his head slumped, trying to hide his face. If he could have magically disappeared, he would have.

  Ahmad sighed, making an effort to remain composed, scratching his head at high velocity. ‘But where’s Eduardo now?’

  ‘He’s in Mexico. The Lacandon Jungle.’ George said.

  ‘What? Why so far? Why the jungle?’ Sofia asked.

  ‘We’re selecting a team of commandos to go in with you and get him.’ George’s voice trembled. ‘There is Fomorian breeding camp in that jungle. It’s become their world. A secret world within our world; and It’s where they’ve developed the drug. We’ve got to be very careful. We have no idea how many of them there are. They’re growing in numbers. The Sirani Foundation has to date, been able to keep this secret world away from humans. But we’ve never sent anyone into the camp before.’

  ‘Screw them all, what are we waiting for, let’s go!’ Carolina shouted.

  ‘I’m with Carolina!’ Sofia said. ‘Just get us there.’

  George stood up and walked across the room, towards the window. ‘They said that if we want to see Eduardo again, we have to give them the device.’

  ‘But Eduardo has the device,’ Mohammad said.

  ‘Unless Eduardo wasn’t in possession of it when they captured him,’ Marcel said. ‘But if he doesn’t have it, then where is it?’

  ‘This is pissing me off,’ Ahmad yelled, pacing the room.

  ‘Don’t start, Ahmad,’ Mohammad gripped. ‘The last thing we need is you blowing your temper again like yesterday.’

  ‘Shut up, Mohammad.’

  ‘You shut up. You almost got us caught yesterday.’ Mohammad’s eyes widened. ‘Caught? You almost got us all killed.’

  ‘Both of you shut up!’ Marcel shouted.

  George urged everyone to sit down, trying to diffuse the situation. ‘This is the Mancini Corporation,’ he said. ‘It has trillions of dollars at it’s disposal. Yes, trillions. We’re talking about the most powerful organisation on the planet. But what makes it so powerful, is the fact that it’s being guided by the God of Greed and,’ George swallowed. ‘The God of the Dead. Make no doubt about it, guys, we’re in for the fight of our lives.’ George looked uneasy.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ Ajit said.

  ‘Can we kill the essence of The Dark One?’ Carolina asked. ‘How about burning the bloody jungle down. Kill his seed.’

  George looked at Michael. ‘Michael, come here.’

  Michael reluctantly stood up, feeling like he was about to begin the walk of shame. He walked over to the window where George stood.

  George put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. ‘What do you think we should do? You've gone very quiet.’ He gave Michael a gentle tap across the cheek and smiled. ‘Give him a chance, we’re all under pressure here. He’s got it all dumped on him.’

  Michael took a deep breath and faced the room. ‘Well, we’d better hope they haven’t drugged Eduardo, or we’ll have a big problem on our hands. If he’s drugged, he’s their puppet.’ For the second time Michael felt he should just sit down and shut up.

  ‘This is a bad thing to consider,’ Marcel chimed in. ‘But wouldn’t it be easier to uncover this company, inform people of their plot to start wars? We don’t have to include the magical, otherworldly part, just tell people they’re doing it for money and power. Then we can get Eduardo? It’s a long way to Mexico.’

  ‘What Marcel’s saying is true,’ Carolina said. ‘But Elisabetta said that the only way we can defeat this group is by sticking together – everyone.’

  ‘Eduardo’s an important part of this team. No more, or less than any one of you,’ George said. ‘One day soon, you’ll all be the only people you can count on. You seven. Not six, seven. It’s you lot against the world. You’ll soon get used to that fact.’

  Ajit gulped. ‘But how are we getting to Mexico?’

  ‘Scarlett’s house,’ Ringo said. ‘There’s a private jet there.’

  ‘Oh my God, how many resources do you have? I feel like a Bond Girl,’ Carolina said.

  ‘We have a worldwide network, so, yeah, this is real world James Bond stuff.’ George folded his arms. ‘But, you gotta remember, this isn't James Bond, this is real life.’

  ‘A Bond Girl?’ Sofia asked. ‘Screw that. I’d rather be James Bond than some eye candy.’

  Michael smiled to himself. Sofia wouldn’t need to choose one or the other. She was already a force to be reckoned with, and she was beautiful.

  ‘Scarlett has a home on the border of Guatemala and Mexico, she chose that location so we'd be close to the jungle. We need to leave as soon as we get Elisabetta’s book from the shop,’ George said. ‘Ringo, tell Scarlett to be ready. We may need the pilot at a moment’s notice.’

  ‘But, we have to wet our mouths and fill our empty stomachs first, of cou
rse!’ Ajit said. ‘I’m starving.’

  George laughed. ‘Of course!’

  For breakfast, Carolina and Marcel prepared a traditional Brazilian dish – granola with yogurt.

  Michael enjoyed seeing such diversity at the table. He secretly hoped he could, somehow, repair the damage he had caused. This whole lifestyle wasn’t all bad. It was all certainly new to him.

  Just after ten, the morning sun was in the sky, with no clouds to block it. They left Ringo’s. Michael and Ahmad went in the Maserati, George followed in his car, and the rest left with Ringo in his SUV.

  Michael had just got comfortable in his seat when his phone rang. It was Scarlett. ‘Where are you? We’re driving to your house now.’

  ‘I’m with Anthony, at the shop,’ she said, crying. ‘He’s been hurt, Michael. We need help!’

  ‘What’s happened?’ Michael asked, feeling the stress from the previous day returning, and his stomach hadn’t even began processing his breakfast yet.

  ‘Jose Garcia came with his henchmen. They destroyed the shop. Look, Anthony’s bleeding and lapsing in and out of consciousness!’

  ‘We’re on our way.’ Michael said.

  He called Ringo. Ringo warned that it could be a trap.

  Michael hadn’t considered that. He then imagined Garcia with a gun held to Scarlett’s head, forcing her to call. But there was no use in second-guessing it. They couldn’t leave Scarlett and Anthony alone, whether or not they had a gun to their heads, whether or not it was a trap.

  Fired up, Ahmad changed direction. ‘I know a shortcut,’ he shouted as the revs shot up.

  Checking his seat belt was fastened, Michael prepared himself for Ahmad’s test of the Italian supercar’s power.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  THE CAR RACED ALONG Little Camberly’s high street, zooming past St Mary’s chapel, Old Tiles café, and Sir Herbert Noring’s library.