by Paul Heron
‘I was in the bathroom, then stepped back into the bedroom to find a portal, dancing away in the middle of the room.’ Michael took a sip of his coffee. ‘My phone rang, and it was her telling me to step through. It led me to the farm. We had coffee together. George, it wasn’t much really.’ Michael was beginning to get tired of all the questions that he didn’t have the answers to.
‘Michael this is not nothing,’ George said. ‘Nobody in the Sirani Foundation receives contact with Elisabetta. It was only ever through La Camera Prima. Now that’s destroyed, we thought that was an end to it. I’m contacting Domenico.’
‘Who the hell’s he?’ Ajit asked through a mouth full of croissant.
‘Domenico Cipolla is the Director of Global Operations,’ Sofia said. ‘He was my guardian. He taught me how to use weapons from a young age. Of course, at that time, I never knew why.’
‘That's right, he was Sofia’s personal bodyguard. He was given his current post after many years of service to Sofia’s family,’ George said.
‘He was my best friend when I was growing up. He taught me how to play football. He played netball with me. For my sixteenth birthday, he came to our house to see me. He always said when I turned sixteen he'd let me drive his Ferrari on our driveway. He said his father first let him drive when he was sixteen, and he promised to do the same for me,’ Sofia said, gazing out of the window as if she’d gone back to that time and place in her mind.
‘How are you all feeling?’ George asked.
‘Tired,’ everyone said.
‘I’m having the Sirani Foundation’s agent assessor come to help, he's got an antidote for the politicians. It might kill whatever Fomorian that’s inside them. We don’t know yet if it will, but we can try. He’s a trusted doctor and has worked with us for a long time. He'll be there if any of you need a chat,’ George said.
Everyone looked sceptical. Their small group was growing, and Michael felt as everyone else looked: uneasy.
‘Everyone who works with us is trustworthy.’ Scarlett reassured them. ‘Everyone who works for the foundation has a reason to bring down Mancini Corporation.’ She grabbed a remote control and put on the sixty-inch plasma TV that was mounted on the wall.
‘Maybe talk to Hamish; he surely isn’t trustworthy,’ Carolina said, sounding bitter. ‘I’d gladly kick his ass if I saw him.’
‘Me, too,’ Eduardo said.
Sky World News came on the television. To nobody’s surprise, Michael’s mugshot was the headline. The news was asking: Who is this guy, and how did he do it? This was followed by a live press conference from the United States Secretary General: We have received intelligence from our friends in London that clearly show images of this man involved in an incident on Oxford Street, London on Saturday afternoon. The news report flashed to an amateur video taken from a member of the public. The video showed Michael, Marcel, and Ahmad fighting with Mancini agents. The secretary general went on to say: There was an incident at the office of British Minister of Defence a short time before, which was caught on CCTV. The video showed Sofia breaking into the office of Matt Cole. It then showed Marcel and Carolina taking apart the staff of the building. The images of them all appeared up on the screen. Images of Ajit, Mohammad, and Eduardo were collected from Little Camberly police station from Friday night when they were arrested. Ladies and gentlemen, the individuals you see here are wanted in connection with the recent poisoning of UN members. They have breached national and international security by hacking into our satellites. We don’t know how they did it, but...he paused for a moment, and the screen went back to images of the seven. His voice came back: Ladies and gentlemen, what you are looking at are now the seven most wanted people in the world.
Scarlett turned and looked at them all. There was silence. Nobody spoke for a moment. Ajit chimed in to break to silence. ‘How about we go live with Elisabetta, Mancini and this dark guy?’
Scarlett laughed.
‘Let me call Domenico Cipolla,’ George said. ‘I’ll call you all back in a while.’
‘Say ciao to Domenico for me.’ Sofia shouted before George cut the call.
‘What do we do now?’ Mohammad asked. ‘Do we chill out here until they find us?’
‘Or do we get to work and find this sculpture?’ Marcel said. ‘We’re all screwed if we don't find it.’
‘We need to find out where the French piece would have been kept after all these years.’ Michael said.
‘We also need to give an antidote to the French president,’ Sofia added.
‘I’d say it’s going to be in a safe place like a government building,’ Eduardo added.
‘Go and sleep for a few hours.’ Scarlett switched off the TV and began clearing the dishes. Michael and Carolina helped. ‘Once we’ve rested, we’ll do some research and make a plan of action.’
Chapter Four
TWELVE-THIRTY, AFTER just two and a half hours of sleep, Michael woke up to the melody of his Samsung Galaxy. He pulled it out from under his pillow. It was George. ‘George.’ He yawned, his eyes closed. Too tired to hold it, he put it on loudspeaker and set it on his pillow beside his ear.
‘Are you okay, Michael?’
‘I’ve just woken.’ Michael sat up slowly, feeling like he’d ran two marathons back to back. He fixed his pillow to the wall to sit against. He was glad to see a half-full bottle of room temperature water on his bedside cabinet.
‘I spoke to Domenico Cipolla. He’s very intrigued by your meeting with Elisabetta. This is a big deal, Michael. Nobody, as far as this organisation goes back, has ever had a private audience with Elisabetta.’
‘I guess she really likes me.’ Michael sniggered, trying to play it down.
‘How are you feeling? Really, Michael, are you okay? Truthfully.’
‘Well, it’s hard to tell. I can’t really say I’ve experienced anything like this before.’ He poured half of the bottle’s contents down his throat. ‘You know about Eduardo’s chain going missing? The one with the cave’s stone.’ He stood up and stepped in front of the five-foot mirror that ran down the front of the wardrobe. He looked at his muscular figure. ‘It was Eduardo’s chain that got them access to the sculpture.’
‘I know. We have people working to get it back again. But let’s not worry about that yet; it’s not important right now.’
‘Not important?’ Michael shouted. ‘It’s my fault all this has happened, George. How can you say it’s not important?’ He continued to stare at himself in the mirror, with contempt for the reflection he saw looking back at him.
‘Well, was Elisabetta angry at you?’ George said.
Michael suddenly felt his anger dissolve.
‘Was the lady that chose you upset? She knows what happened. Well?’
‘No.’ Michael sat back down on the edge of the bed.
‘Then why are you angry? It’s in the past, Michael. Time to go to work. Smarten up!’ George shouted. ‘What’s your plan for today?’
‘Scarlett said we find out where the French piece of the sculpture is. Then find out where the French president is. We snatch both the president, what’s his name again? I forget, and then we get the piece.’
‘Jacques Charvet is his name, and he's a big fan of football. There’s the big game tonight. A friendly between France and the Republic of Ireland. So, your best opportunity of getting him is while he’s on the move. Also, I’m going to hold on to all the chains until each fragment is collected. I need you all to hand them in to Scarlett and she’ll pass them on to me. And don’t worry about Eduardo's, our agents in Mexico are on it.’ George stopped as someone called him in the background. ‘Ringo’s just arrived, Michael. I’ll call you back in a while. And remember, leave what happened in the past, in the past.’
Although still angry at himself, Michael felt a bit more positive. George was like Mr O’Hagan. He had an ability to look at things positively and wasn’t one for dwelling on the past. Michael always felt more positive about things after speaking
with his father, and it looked like George was going to replace that, if only temporarily. If Michael couldn’t turn to Mr O’Hagan for advice, then the second-best person was quickly becoming George.
He checked the news and was pleasantly reminded of the Sirani search engine: the usual search engine logo being replaced by Storm – that famous mark he first saw on the gates of “La Sirani”. He checked French news and was reminded he could read it all without translating to English. Things aren’t all bad, he laughed. These skills could get my marks up in Uni. The sports section said how France was playing the Republic of Ireland in a friendly. What if Dad’s here? The penny dropped, and Michael’s face lit up, eyes fixed on the screen like the time his eyes were glued to the image of Bruce’s Cave at the airport.
The door knocked. Marcel entered. ‘Hey, man!’ He strolled in with the usual careless bounce in his walk, side posing in the wardrobe mirror as he passed. ‘Did you sleep?’ He dropped himself onto the black leather armchair in the corner beside the window.
‘I’ll sleep when this is all done.’ Michael looked at Marcel and grinned. ‘This ability thing is pretty sweet, though. I’m fluently reading from the French news!’
‘Show off!’ Marcel said crumpling up a receipt he found on the seat and lobbing it at Michael.
‘Come on, man! You love showing off your martial arts skills.’ He tossed the paper ball back. ‘Especially in front of the beautiful Carolina.’ They both laughed.
‘Me? I’ve seen the way you look at Sofia, amigo! I know you fancy her.’ He watched as Michael blushed, a sure sign that the Brazilian was right.
‘Sofia’s gorgeous,’ Michael admitted. ‘But could you imagine dating Sofia Sirani? You’d have bodyguards analysing everything you say.’
‘Ah, yes!’ Marcel laughed. ‘But you’re the chosen one, don’t forget. You’ve got Elisabetta on your side, much to the jealousy of the entire foundation.’ Michael didn’t know how to respond. Marcel laughed at his silence. ‘What’s happening in the news anyway?’
‘Well, George said Mr Charvet - the French president is a die-hard football fan, and France are playing Republic of Ireland tonight in a friendly.’ Michael looked at Marcel. He struggled to keep his face straight, partly because he had a glimmer of hope at seeing his father – even though Mr O’Hagan would be in the middle of thousands of Irish fans – and because he knew Marcel was, like many Brazilians, a die-hard football fan. ‘Want to go watch some football tonight?’
Marcel’s face lit up. ‘Of course! how do we get tickets?’
‘I’m sure the Sirani Foundation, being such a resourceful outfit, will be able to work around a little detail like tickets.’ Michael felt himself bubble up with excitement. ‘Let’s go and see what Scarlett says.’ As they got up, Michael pulled on his bathrobe, still in nothing but his Armani boxer shorts. Ajit came running.
‘Come quick. It’s Eduardo. He’s collapsed in the kitchen.’ Ajit turned and sprinted back out again with Marcel and Michael right behind him.
As they ran into the kitchen, Eduardo was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall beside the fridge, his eyes closed, taking deep breaths.
‘What happened?’ Michael asked.
‘He just collapsed,’ Mohammad said, sitting on the ground beside Eduardo. ‘One minute he was walking across the kitchen to get some water, and... thump!’ Mohammad looked concerned.
‘Scarlett’s gone to call Dr Rizzo.’ Sofia said standing with her phone glued to her ear.
‘Who are you calling?’ Michael asked as he sat down on the other side of Eduardo. Carolina brought the Mexican a glass of water.
‘I’m calling George,’ Sofia replied. ‘But he’s not picking up for some reason.’
‘I spoke to George on the phone about fifteen minutes ago. Ringo had arrived, I'm guessing with Ahmad and Alban. He said he’d call back. He did say the French president is a big football fan, and there’s a good chance he’ll be at the game at the Stade de France tonight. I suspect Mancini agents will want to know where the French piece has been all these years and will want to protect it, especially if they think we’re coming after it.’ Michael looked at Eduardo’s hand, trembling. Had he taken something that’s made him sick, given the fact Eduardo couldn’t remember being kidnapped. ‘He was drugged, given something when they took him to Mexico.’
‘Whatever they gave him has done something to him!’ Carolina said. ‘It’s best we get the doctor to look at him.’ The moment Carolina said this, Eduardo vomited all over himself. And not the kind of vomiting you’d experience with just food poisoning. ‘Let’s roll him onto his side, Mohammad,’ Michael said, trying to remain calm.
Scarlett rushed in. ‘Dr Rizzo is on his way.’ She pulled a bag of ice from the freezer. ‘He said to get him to his bed, and not to leave him until he gets here.’
‘We’ll help him.’ Mohammad looked a Michael. ‘Come on, chief.’
Fortunately, Eduardo’s room was on the ground floor. Mohammad and Michael helped him get to his room and helped him remove his tie and vomit stained shirt. The smell of it was likely to make him sick again.
‘This will keep him cool.’ Marcel followed them into the room, setting down a jug filled with ice water. He put a fan on his bedside table. ‘When’s the doctor getting here?’ He looked at Scarlett. She looked distant while watching Eduardo, eyes fixed on him, biting her nails. ‘Scarlett!’ Marcel shouted.
‘He’ll be here when he can!’ Scarlett shouted. ‘He’s on his way.’ She played with her phone again, hands shaking. Michael looked at her and saw a Scarlett with less control and confidence than the lady that acted as George’s co-mentor to the group. He wondered if it was something to do with Anthony but decided not to open that wound.
‘Okay, well, we can’t wait around for Dr Rizzo to get here. We need to get to work and see if we can retrieve the French piece of the sculpture,’ Sofia said.
‘Sofia’s right,’ Carolina agreed. ‘We need to take advantage of this football match. If George is right and Charvet is going...’ She sat down on the edge of Eduardo’s bed, stroking his face. ‘We need to split up. We can’t leave Eduardo here on his own.’
‘I agree,’ Michael said, sitting down on the other side of the bed. ‘How do you feel?’ Michael poured a glass of cold water from the jug, ready to give it to Eduardo.
‘Just a little dizzy.’ He laughed. ‘Reminds me of Saturday morning after our fun time at the bar.’
Michael couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I wouldn’t mind going to watch the football match tonight.’ Eduardo took a sip of the water but threw it back up again.
‘Maybe you stay here,’ Sofia said. ‘Michael, how about you, Marcel, Mohammad and me go to the football match. Carolina, you stay here with Eduardo and Ajit, and wait until the good doctor arrives?’
‘I’m cool with that, football bores me anyway,’ Carolina smiled at Marcel. ‘I won’t have to listen to Marcel jumping up and down, acting like someone possessed.’
‘You just don’t understand the beauty of the game.’ Marcel seemed quick to jump on the defensive. ‘I’m sorry you’re Brazilian and don’t share the same passion for the sport.’
‘Right, how are we getting to this football game?’ Mohammad asked. ‘I wouldn’t mind watching some football tonight. It’s not cricket, but what is?’
‘For the first time, we agree on something, Mohammad!’ Ajit said, slapping Mohammad on the back.
‘Please repeat that,’ Carolina said, ‘and I’ll record it. This is bigger news than a world full of Fomorians – Ajit and Mohammad in agreement.’
‘I’m phoning Nicole. Hopefully she can get us tickets in to watch the match,’ Scarlett said.
Michael secretly hoped to see his father. Mr O’Hagan had an undying love for the Republic of Ireland football team and would for sure be there. He looked at Eduardo, and at the same time, felt guilty for his selfish wishes.
I can’t betray their trust again. I won’t betray their trust aga
in.
Chapter Five
‘HOW LONG IS THE DRIVE from Marseille to Paris?’ Marcel said. ‘We’ll need to get moving because...’ he paused, pulling his phone out of his pocket. ‘Sirani Maps!’ He looked at Michael then Sofia. Shaking his head, displaying his winning smile, he said, ‘Elisabetta is a legend for giving us this internet.’
Sofia laughed and looked at Michael. ‘Make sure you tell her that, Michael, when you see her again.’
‘Will do!’
‘Ask her for a space ship or something,’ Mohammad said. ‘We may need to get off this rock while we have a chance!’
‘Always with the jokes,’ Carolina laughed.
Michael felt it was needed. He knew there was going to be some tough times ahead of them, and banter, or an innocent child-like outlook, would help them get through the toughest times. Like black humour used by soldiers in war zones. Perhaps Mohammad and his personality were exactly what they needed.
‘Okay!’ Marcel said. ‘From Marseille to the stadium by car – according to Sirani Maps – is seven hours and twenty minutes via the A6 and A7.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s almost one o’clock. If we leave now, we can catch the second half of the match.’
‘Yes, the match starts at seven forty-five and we should arrive between eight and eight thirty, if we leave now,’ Sofia said. ‘We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.’
‘I’ll drive,’ Scarlett said. ‘You four – she gestured to Michael, Sofia, Marcel, and Mohammad – go and get whatever you need for the journey. I’ll go get the car and meet you all outside.’
Even with all his tiredness, the adrenalin buzz of all this was keeping Michael going; that and all the coffee. But he knew he’d have to rest before arriving at the stadium if he could manage to shut off his overactive brain. He ran into his bedroom, grabbed his backpack and his watch. He stopped and looked at the Casio watch which he was wearing the day he’d gotten assaulted in Belfast, a memory he liked to forget. He looked at the watch; I want to change the world, he thought to himself, fastening the strap to his left wrist as if this plastic timepiece was a powerful weapon. But it wasn’t. The power behind this watch was the reminder of where it all began: the symbolic power, perhaps. Why he'd wanted to change the world in the first place.