The Second Renaissance Series Boxset

by Paul Heron

  Skidding to a halt directly outside the charity shop, Michael lunged out of the lowered car, and charged into the shop.

  Anthony was on the ground, his entire body looking as lifeless as his prosthetic hand.

  ‘You okay, old man?’ Michael asked, squatting down by his side.

  Anthony coughed and struggled to reply, as if his lungs were fighting for air.

  Scarlett’s face had two black mascara tracks, one running down the centre of each cheek.

  ‘Old man?’ Anthony gasped. ‘What the hell do you mean? Old man?’

  Scarlett knelt down beside them. ‘Big hero! your dumbass could have been killed.’ She rummaged through her bag, which sported a gold chain strap dangling in front of Anthony’s face, as if the Gucci accessory was ready to hypnotise him.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ Michael asked.

  ‘My phone.’

  ‘Look at the mess they’ve made. They’ve destroyed my shop!’ Anthony shouted between coughs.

  ‘This bloody shop is not worth what’s happened to you! You’re as stubborn as an old mule,’ Scarlett said as she grabbed her phone and hit a few buttons. Within seconds she had an answer. ‘Alban! We need you, now. We need you to...’ she shouted into her phone. ‘Phone’s been cut off.’ She dialled again. She throttled the phone so tight you’d think it was Garcia himself.

  The rest of the group joined them, crowding around Anthony, unsure what to do, looking helpless.

  Michael jumped up and headed towards the kitchen. ‘Anthony, where’s Elisabetta’s book? I’ll start digging for it now.’

  ‘They’ve taken it!’ Anthony said.

  Michael froze. Dropped his head, feeling everything slip from his grasp, if he ever had a grasp in the first place.

  ‘They wrecked the shop and the gallery, looking for that bloody book,’ Scarlett shouted. She looked at them all individually. ‘They knew what they were looking for. God knows what else they have on us.’

  ‘I’ve got to check the gallery.’ Sofia rushed out of the shop; Michael went after her.

  She ran across the road towards La Sirani, with no regard for her own safety. Michael followed behind her, scoping the place out to ensure she wasn’t being followed. Curious eyes were everywhere, wondering what they were running from, or towards. Danger was still around, Michael felt.

  Sofia ran through the black wooden gates into the gardens. Michael hurried to catch up with her.

  On approach to the gates, he heard a scream; a high-pitched squeak that was prematurely cut off, as if someone had been gripped by the throat.

  Entering the gardens, a man had Sofia by the throat, dragging her towards a black SUV like Ringo’s. Hamish must have been drugged, either that or just chickened out. Either way, it was Michael and Sofia against a man who looked like a giant standing next to Sofia’s five foot ten inch tall figure.

  ‘Don’t waist your time. Leave now while you can. She’s coming with me,’ he said, grinning at Michael. Michael acknowledged the Mexican accent. ‘This little Sirani gem will make some people very happy!’

  ‘Take me instead. I’m the Irish guy you’re all looking for.’ Michael raised his hands in surrender.

  When the giant heard Michael’s accent, he let Sofia go. ‘Even better!’ He had a crooked nose that had probably been broken many times, brown eyes and a jaw like it was chiseled from stone; as if one of those Greek statues had come to life. ‘I have a guy with an Irish accent here. Sì, signor.’ He spoke into a radio, smiling like he’d just been promoted.

  Michael was happy to take Sofia’s place. The Mexican spun Michael around. There was a chink of metal as he snapped a handcuff on his own wrist. But before he could cuff the other to Michael’s wrist, Michael grabbed the Mexican’s left hand, quickly realising up close that it was twice the size of his. Snapping his index finger, the Mexican dropped to his knees, wailing like a baby.

  But unexpectedly, he suppressed his agony with deep breaths and got back to his feet. His face gleaming in sweat. He grabbed Michael with one hand, and with the other, he punched him with so much force that Michael was knocked out cold before his body hit the ground.

  After what seemed like a split second, Michael was awake, seeing and feeling nothing but the angry giant on top of him, planting more of the same into his face.

  From where Michael was, all he could see were Carolina and Sofia grabbing the giant and dragging him off. He stood up, gripping his hand and turned towards them.

  ‘Getting involved? are you both that stupi-’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ Carolina shouted, driving her left knee into his groin.

  He crouched over when Sofia followed up with a knee to his chin, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious. She stood over his unconscious body, ‘Elisabetta says hi! Tell your bosses we’re coming for them.’

  Michael watched from the ground. ‘I’ve always heard Italian women are not to be trifled with,’ he laughed, pinching his nostrils closed. ‘Now I know Brazilian women are just as tough. Go, I’ll be right behind you,’ he shouted. He rummaged through the agent’s pockets and took his phone, his nose dripping blood all over the still unconscious giant.

  Sofia and Carolina waited for him at the entrance gates.

  ‘Say “ciao” to the gallery for a while,’ Michael said, seeing Sofia gaze at her family’s beautiful property. ‘We’ll be back again.’

  They got back to the shop, Scarlett was still on her knees, chatting to Anthony. He hadn’t improved. She had bandaged up a knife wound on his leg. The bleeding was under control.

  Sofia looked at him. She didn’t know what to say.

  ‘He’s fine, just skin wounds,’ Scarlett said. ‘It’s his heart I’m worried about.’

  ‘Skin wounds?’ Anthony complained, as if spitting the words in Scarlett’s face. ‘I’m cold. Forget about my heart, I’ll die of hypothermia in here. Or from you taking the piss!’

  Michael put his suit jacket over him.

  ‘She pisses in front of him?’ Sofia whispered to Michael, horrified.

  ‘No, no...’ he said, still pinching his nose closed. ‘It’s an English expression. When you tease a friend, or someone you like, you’re “taking the piss”.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, sometimes you only know you’re best friends with someone when they “take the piss”, because then you’re comfortable enough to know you won’t offend them.’

  ‘So, I can crap all over you, but it’s a gesture of friendship?’

  ‘Well, something like that. There’s an art to it.’

  ‘So, I can make fun of you, and you can’t get offended? Because it just means we’re bonding? I could get used to this.’ Sofia nudged him with her elbow.

  Michael’s face went warm. Was she flirting? She stood with her hands joined, rocking back and forth a little.

  Marcel and George entered the shop. The rest were in the car.

  Marcel touched Scarlett on the shoulder. ‘Sorry, Scarlett. But we need to get out of here before the police come. How can we begin to explain this?’

  ‘Okay. Can you get up and walk?’ Scarlett asked.

  ‘Scarlett,’ George said sympathetically. ‘He’s quite ill. I’ll wait here with him. You need to go. Now. I’ve got other Sirani agents on the way to help him.’

  ‘We’re not leaving him here on this dirty floor,’ she yelled.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Sofia asked.

  ‘Thanks, Sofia. You and Michael, help me get him up. Marcel, clear a space in the car.’

  ‘It’s too late, we haven’t got time to take him,’ Marcel said. ‘It’s better if we leave him here.’

  ‘If you leave him, you leave me!’ Scarlett yelled.

  ‘Marcel, we’re taking him. Now, lets just get him up,’ Michael said.

  ‘Don’t tell me what to do just because you think you’re in charge,’ Marcel retorted. ‘You’ve already proven you can’t be trusted!’

  There was an awkward silence. Nobody
spoke for a second. Michael stood up, glaring at Marcel. Looking like he was about to punch him. Realising Marcel was right, he bit his lip and unclenched his fists then sighed.

  ‘Marcel! We haven’t got time for this. Now help me lift him. Please. If you guys want me to leave this group, then fine, but at least let me help fix this mess.’ Michael turned and knelt back down. ‘Right, Anthony, we’re moving you. We’re not leaving you here.’

  Michael, Sofia, and Marcel helped Anthony to his feet, and then walked him out to the Range Rover.

  ‘Scarlett, call Alban and tell him to meet us at the lake. Ajit, I got this off the agent at the gallery,’ Michael said, handing over the giant’s phone.

  Scarlett and Marcel folded down the rear seats of the Range Rover to lay Anthony down flat in the boot.

  ‘Okay, Anthony. We’re going to lift you into the car now,’ Michael said. He was trying, but it was going to take a while for the group to trust him again, if they ever would.

  Ahmad closed the doors behind him.

  ‘What is this, a hearse? I’m not dead yet,’ Anthony stammered from the back of the car.

  ‘Oh, stop your moaning.’ Scarlett said.

  ‘Follow us in the other car,’ Sofia said, running to the Maserati where Ahmad was waiting. ‘It’s only a few minutes this way.’

  ‘Ajit, are you okay?’ Marcel asked, watching Ajit sit with his eyes closed.

  ‘I’m well, thank you. I’m not in a Mexican jungle and my leg is wearing no bandage,’ he gestured to Anthony, ‘so I am fantastic compared to others.’

  ‘He’s probably pretending to meditate or something crazy like that,’ Mohammad mumbled under his breath.

  ‘Woah, woah, Mohammad! Cultural sensitivity!’ Marcel chided.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Marcel!’ Ajit said, his eyes still closed. ‘I ask you, Mohammad, why are you so full of it?’

  Mohammad looked at Ajit, his eyes slits. ‘Whatever.’

  Michael whispered to Anthony. ‘They’re always bickering like two sisters. Typical banter.’

  ‘Right, taking the proverbial piss,’ Anthony groaned.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  SOFIA’S CALL CAME THROUGH the car’s sound system. ‘The lake’s just around the corner. But there's no sign of this pilot yet.’

  They pulled into the lake’s car park. The scene was tranquil. No one would ever have guessed what took place there just yesterday: Michael, squaring off with two Fomorian monsters.

  Michael jumped out of the car, welcoming the breeze. He was sweating bullets, using the back of his hand to wipe beads of salty sweat from his forehead. It was just after eleven in the morning, and the sun’s reflection was blinding, bouncing off the lake’s surface. Not a day for running around in navy suits.

  ‘Where are my sunglasses?’ Marcel mumbled, pulling his pockets inside out.

  Mohammad was wearing them, posing in the car window’s reflection. ‘They look better on me. I’m sorry, but it’s true, my Brazilian brother,’ he gloated, combing his hair with his fingers, imitating the Brazilian.

  Marcel sniggered and pulled them from Mohammad’s face. ‘Don’t be so sure about that, amigo.’ He put them on and smiled as if he was posing for a cover magazine.

  Struggling with the heat, all jackets came off.

  Michael and Marcel helped Anthony out of the car, and acted as his crutches. They sat him down in his boat.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Marcel asked.

  ‘I’ve seen better days.’

  ‘Why’s the boat so special to you?’ Marcel asked.

  ‘I love how it feels while it’s floating on the water. It’s very relaxing.’

  ‘That’s it? That’s boring, man.’

  ‘What is this, a flaming interrogation? Why do you want to listen to a sentimental old man? If you must know, it’s where I met Scarlett when she was a girl.’ Anthony shivered, hunching over to conserve heat. He complained about the cold, yet the rest were struggling to keep their shirts on. ‘Scarlett?’

  ‘I’m here.’ She sat in the boat beside him, her sunglasses covering her eyes. Clearly it was hard for her to see the old man in so much pain. ‘God, we didn’t expect this all to happen so bloody fast.’ She looked at Anthony. ‘You know I heard one of the Mancini agents mention The Fomorians.’

  George looked as his phone; he repositioned his glasses and dropped his device back into his jacket pocket and said, ‘you need to go now. It’s too dangerous, all of us being here like this,’ he looked at his watch, his foot tapping as if shaking the nerves down his leg and out of his body. ‘Scarlett we’ve known this all along, The Fomorians still have an essence of their existence here, walking the earth. They always have. In what form, we don’t know exactly. They blend in with the world as it is. In human form or in their own form.’

  ‘You mean to tell me, there could still be those creatures around?’ Marcel said.

  ‘Not could, Marcel. They do still walk the earth. It’s highly likely that they’re in disguise. Working within Mancini Corporation.’

  ‘I killed two of them yesterday,’ Michael said. ‘They were disguised as Mancini agents, waiting for us as we escaped from the shop’s tunnel. The second they seen me, they burst out into their own form.’

  ‘How’d you kill them?’ Carolina asked.

  ‘You’re not the only one with kick ass skills,’ Mohammad said. ‘Aint that right chief?’

  ‘The dagger Scarlett gave me.’ Michael said.

  ‘It’s made of a special kind of material. Not found in this world. But in The Otherworld.’ Scarlett said.

  ‘We need to take this organisation down.’ Sofia said.

  Scarlett gave her phone to Carolina. ‘Call Alban and tell him we need to get going, now.’

  As the rest of the group went back to the cars, Michael remained close to Scarlett. She took Anthony in her arms. ‘You’re a stubborn old fool, you know that.’

  ‘There’s no need for all the compliments, sweetheart.’

  A faraway thumping noise alerted them that the helicopter was closing in.

  ‘We need to go,’ Michael said, his eyes fixed to the sky.

  Anthony sat up as much as he could. ‘My young Irish lad, take care of her for me.’

  ‘Of course,’ Michael said, ‘but I’m pretty sure she’ll be the one looking out for us.’

  ‘We need to go!’ Mohammad screamed, approaching the boardwalk.

  ‘Go, now!’ George shouted. ‘Find Eduardo. And find Elisabetta’s book! I’ll be in touch. Elisabetta has only given us a little bit about what is happening. There’s a lot we need to figure out from this world.’

  With a thump, Alban landed a UH-60v Black Hawk chopper on a grassy patch between the car park and the lake. The wind gave everyone a nice natural shower. Anthony was less than impressed with the pilot’s skill. The chopper’s side door slid open, and one by one, the team jumped in, waiting for Scarlett and Michael.

  ‘How the hell did you get your hands on one of those?’ Michael shouted in Scarlett’s ear, pointing at their new mode of transport.

  ‘The Sirani Foundation has a lot of resources, Michael.’

  Michael looked impressed. Then he looked at Anthony. ‘See you later.’

  Anthony shook Michael’s hand. ‘Good luck!’

  Michael stepped out of the boat.

  Scarlett gripped Anthony’s hand. ‘I love you. I’ll see you when we get back.’ She stepped out of the boat, struggling to walk. Michael took her by the hand to let her know she wasn’t alone. He helped her into the chopper, then he jumped in.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Michael shouted at Ajit, watching him fidget with his phone, a mischievous look on his face.

  Ajit put his phone back in his pocket. ‘I’m being crafty. I need everybody’s phone.’ He handed Michael a SIM card. ‘It’s part of the family of SIMs I am proud to say will synchronise with their big brother, “L’amico”. I’ll put this into yours, then watch, you will be connected to “La Sirani” netwo
rk.’

  ‘Wow!’ Michael was impressed.

  Ajit smiled. ‘It does not have the power to control the electromagnetic spectrum, but it’ll do everything else: you have unlimited internet data and La Sirani search engine. With these babies, we will be invisible to anything outside of our network.’

  Michael laughed, a little stunned by Ajit’s speedy recovery. ‘When did you build these?’

  ‘When you were in London. I am not a man to wait around, we cannot afford the time to mess around and be lazy.’ Ajit looked at Mohammad, ‘well, not all of us.’

  He opened the casing of Michael’s device, and replaced the SIM card with the Sirani issue. Michael watched as Ajit played around with the settings. Then the 4G LTE symbol at the top corner of the screen was replaced by what looked like a tiny ramping unicorn, the symbol on the software he saw on Ajit’s laptop when Eduardo demonstrated the device.

  ‘Nobody can track these devices, and this baby here is tracking L’amico,’ Ajit said.

  ‘This is bloody awesome!’ Michael shouted.

  Everyone scrambled with their phones as the chopper took off. Michael sat next to Scarlett.

  ‘So, this is the Irish lad, then? He looks older than I imagined,’ the pilot shouted from the front; he had an accent.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  AT SCARLETT’S PRIVATE estate, Michael sat at a wooden picnic table in the back garden. From where he was sitting, he watched Marcel and Carolina practice martial arts. He knew they were world-class athletes, but he hadn’t realised just how good they were. Until he seen them with his own two eyes. No wonder they had dreams of representing Brazil in the Olympics. They were amazing. Unreal, even.

  He had an idea. Standing up, he called the rest – who were lounging around the pool area – to join him.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Mohammad yelled, sliding along the orange stone patio, wet from him bombing into the pool.

  ‘I’ve been watching Marcel and Carolina training.’

  He looked at the two Brazilians, sweat lashing off them.

  ‘What’s up?’ Carolina asked, wiping her face with a towel.