by Paul Heron
‘Today is about getting Charvet, then getting the fragment,’ Marcel said. ‘Do you know much about the fragment?’
‘It was something of an important piece of French heritage way back when Pietro Mancini sold it to the French King. Of course, after time, people began to disbelieve it’s power to deliver fortune, and it simply lost its appeal. Now, Avril and I have discovered it had been passed around simply as a piece of French history and is now in a museum.’
‘Well, we need to find it,’ Michael said. ‘I also want to have a sit down with this French director. Find out what she’s all about.’
‘Couture’s the most vicious person in the Mancini Corporation,’ Pierre said. ‘She will not give a damn what you have to say.’
‘Well, we’ll soon fix that,’ Sofia mumbled under her breath.
‘Let’s get to the stadium first. Should arrive by eight forty,’ Pierre said.
George called Michael's phone. ‘George, we’re with Pierre now. Where are you?’ He connected the call through the Audi's sound system.
‘Good,’ George said. ‘We’ve landed in Marseille. We’re picking up Carolina and Eduardo. We’ll need everyone tonight.’ A sense of urgency in George’s voice was an indicator to Michael, and surely, the rest that their mentor was worried about the Mancini Corporation’s plans.
‘George – why the voice?’ Sofia shouted. ‘You’re not inspiring much confidence in the team.’
‘We’ll speak this evening. Gotta go; we’ll contact you when we get there. And guys, be careful.’ He signed off.
‘That was strange!’ Marcel said, looking down at his hands absentmindedly whistling, repeatedly tugging on shirt his cuff.
‘Yeah, that was weird,’ Mohammad said, taking off his jacket. ‘I'm sweating like I’ve just been to the gym.’
‘You? Gym?’ Marcel sniggered.
‘You guys look tired. Try and get some rest. Like it or not, you’re living a life so fast you won’t have time to think, let alone sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.’ Pierre lowered the volume of the radio.
Pierre was right, and Michael knew it. But trying to sleep when he was a target by so many, as well as having the responsibility for everyone’s future was kind of something that was going to play on his mind. As soon as he closed his eyes, he could see his father washing his car, he loved that car – his gun metal grey Jaguar XK. I’m here for you now, Dad.
The car fell silent.
Chapter Nine
A SUDDEN STOP AND A jolt forward caused Michael to wake with a start. ‘What’s happening?’ He was covered in sweat.
‘Sorry, some kid kicked a football out in front of Avril’s car. She had to do an emergency stop,’ Pierre said. ‘But, welcome to Paris.’
‘Wow, this is beautiful,’ Marcel said, pulling his phone from his pocket. ‘Guys, I know we’re here to like, save the world and everything, but we should at least get some sightseeing in, embrace the culture, and take a few-’
‘Selfies,’ Mohammad shouted, enthusiastically looking out through his window. ‘This is one sweet place, Paris – I love you my dear French lady...’ He breathed in a gulp of air. ‘There it is, the Eiffel Tower.’
‘After the game, we should have a look around,’ Sofia said, yawning through her words.
‘I definitely want to look around “Gay Paree”!’ Marcel laughed as they all became dazzled by the beauty of the romantic city.
‘Scarlett’s calling,’ Michael said, putting the call through the sound system.
‘Welcome to Paris. We’ve got parking spaces arranged at the stadium. Nicole is meeting us there with tickets. We’re going in as football supporters. Michael, since your home country is one of the teams playing, I thought let’s be Irish fans. We’ll be wrapping you all in Irish tricolour flags, huge hats, scarfs, and some big silly glasses. Nobody will recognise us.’
‘Ten minutes until we arrive,’ Pierre said.
They continued on the A6, merging onto the N1 in Saint-Denis. They took the second exit from the A1 and continued down Avenue du President. The tension was building, the traffic was heavy, and football fans were everywhere. The car turned right onto Rue Henri Delaunay. ‘There’s Nicole,’ Pierre shouted.
Michael watched as a tall, thin lady, with her hair in a bun, got into the pickup. She was holding a sports bag and had a smile that could compete with Marcel’s.
As Michael lowered the window for some fresh air, he was bombarded with the atmosphere: horns sounding, fans singing and whistling, music playing out of passing cars. It was certainly a packed night at the sixth largest stadium in Europe. If only the people of this beautiful city knew what their potential future looked like.
They entered car park P1 and continued through gate S. The atmosphere got heavier. The pressure felt as if the car would cave in like an empty box. Michael looked at Marcel, then Sofia, then Mohammad. Their expressions looked how Michael felt: buzzing. Adrenaline. The world was after them. They were the good guys, but not as the world seen it. To everyone outside the Sirani Foundation, they were the bad guys. Being hunted. Hounded by the most powerful people in the world.
‘Let’s go watch some football,’ Michael said, trying to sound upbeat. ‘Pierre, thank you for your help. I think we’ll need it.’
As Michael stepped out of the Audi, he struggled to control his nerves. His foot stopped trembling only when it touched the ground. He was more nervous than when they were in Mexico. Upon seeing an Irish supporter’s bus pull into the car park, his heart rate went through the roof. He could hear his heart throb in his ears.
The tall slim lady with the sports bag approached from the other car. ‘Bonjour, Michael. I’m Nicole. It’s nice to meet the boy who wanted to change the world. Are you ready to make that change?’ She handed Michael his ticket and his Irish supporter’s kit.
‘Thanks, I guess so,’ he laughed, putting on the oversized leprechaun hat and glasses. ‘I’ll definitely feel more invincible with this flag wrapped around me.’ He looked at Sofia who was howling in laughter with Marcel and Mohammad. Nicole draped Michael in his Irish tricolour flag.
‘Do we have ginger beards to go with it?’ Marcel asked. ‘Do we also have ginger dye for Mohammad’s splendid beard?’ He teased. They all managed to find some novelty in their situation.
‘Thank you.’ Mohammad stroked his beard, standing tall and proud. ‘I'm starting to like my beard, too.’
‘Nice to meet you all finally,’ Nicole said as they all huddled together. ‘The entire Foundation has waited for the Sirani Seven to begin their quest.’ Nicole looked at Sofia. ‘And Sofia, we’ve heard what you did outside Bonampak. If you ever need a chat, I’m here. I know how it feels. All who knew of Garcia, wanted to do what you did.’
‘Thank you,’ Sofia said, her voice and smile trying to convince herself and everybody else that she was okay.
‘Sofia is our fearless, Italian, kickass babe,’ Mohammad shouted, smiling through a pair of oversized green glasses. ‘Go team Ireland!’
‘Don’t forget we’re in France, numb-nuts!’ Marcel said. ‘We’re surrounded by French people.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Nicole laughed. ‘Okay, our seats are in the north stand close to the president’s seat. Michael, how do you want to do this?’
He shrugged. ‘I've just been going with my gut up until now. No real plans.’
‘He thinks he’s Jason Bourne,’ Mohammad said. ‘Just wakes up with all these kick-ass abilities.’
Michael looked at Nicole, ignoring Mohammad. ‘We gotta get the president tonight; that’s number one.’ He suddenly felt guilty knowing his father could be in danger, too. ‘But my dad could be in the crowd. George said it’s possible they might try and apprehend him. We’ve heard them talk about the Irish fans. I don’t think that’s just a coincidence.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Avril said. ‘We'll not let any harm come to your father.’
Scarlett’s phone rang. ‘Bet that’s George calling,’ she said, p
ulling her bright green jersey over her blouse. She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket that was draped over the roof of the car. ‘George, where are you?’ She put the phone on loudspeaker for everyone to hear, but it was too noisy. ‘George, we can’t hear you, just send a text. We’re about to go into the stand.’ She looked at them all, fixing Michael’s hat that was falling down over his face. ‘Right, let’s go watch some football.’
They all tried to look less nervous, not attracting any unnecessary attention to themselves. They had to look like they were at a sporting event, not a funeral service. Mohammad was enjoying being an Irishman for the evening. Michael was looking all around to see if he could spot his father. Sofia was looking on her phone to check for any news updates in the local area. And Marcel had spotted a group of Irish ladies who looked around the same age as them.
‘George has just sent a message to say he needs someone to come for Carolina and Eduardo. Alban dropped them off three miles from here.’
‘I’ll go,’ Avril said. ‘I’m not a fan of football anyway.’
‘I’ll go with you. It’s better we travel in groups.’ Nicole added, ‘let’s go!’
The rest made their way towards the stand.
On their way out into the stand, Mohammad wanted to buy some food. Hungry and forgetting the real reason they were there, he looked for a drink and a halal chicken burger, unaware that halal food would not be widely provided at a football match.
‘Right, I could do with some food, too. Look normal-’ Sofia was stopped by Marcel.
‘Look normal?’ Marcel shouted. ‘We look awesome.’ He pulled his iPhone out and dragged Sofia over to him for a selfie. ‘We look awesome.’ He took a snapshot and showed her the photo. ‘Look, see – awesome.’
‘This is exciting and a great idea to dress like this,’ Ajit said. ‘We need to go to Mumbai and dress up.’ He straightened his enormous green, white, and orange hat, and laughed into the camera as Marcel started taking selfies with everyone. The queue at the food stand was shortening nicely, and the smell of fried chips and chicken became overwhelming.
‘Michael, time for us, amigo,’ Marcel shouted, dragging Michael into the shot. Taking the photo, Marcel and Michael both laughed at their appearances. Then, Michael noticed from behind the camera a group of Belfast supporters he’d recognised from home.
‘Marcel,’ Michael shouted. ‘Stay in this position. I have a clear view of some Irish fans which I think my dad could be with. Don’t move.’
Then, there he was, after only five days of leaving his family and Ireland behind, Mr O’Hagan came towards Michael with three other fans.
‘Marcel, there’s my dad! He’s coming towards us.’ Michael’s heart pounded against his chest. His entire surroundings disappeared, and he developed that laser-like focus; like a wild cat zoned in on its prey. ‘That’s him, the tall one with the grey hair and thick black glasses.’ He looked at Marcel, and then Scarlett, who had joined them from the queue to see what they were staring at. ‘Scarlett, there’s my dad. We’ll grab him now!’
‘Oh, God!’ Scarlett said. She jumped as some random stranger hugged her whilst singing the national anthem for Ireland. ‘It is. Michael, we can’t. If he’s being watched, then we can’t risk all of us getting caught now.’
Sofia, Mohammad, and Ajit all re-joined them, watching as Michael’s dad walked passed them with only ten feet between them. Michael watched his dad’s face. It wasn’t a happy expression. It was blank; and coming from such a passionate fan of Irish football. Michael wondered what was on his dad’s mind.
‘That’s Michael’s father.’ Scarlett explained to the rest. ‘He doesn’t look very happy to be here, Michael. But I’m guessing it’s got nothing to do with the game. More to do with-’
‘Me,’ he finished her sentence. ‘I wish I could go and tell him I’m okay.’ Michael’s eyes filled with tears. He had to remember to be cool. He was, after all, Elisabetta’s chosen one. He had to remain calm and think of the mission, he couldn't keep messing things up.
‘Aw, he looks so lost,’ Sofia said. ‘Look at him staring at his ticket while his friends jump around him like a bunch of clowns.’
‘Michael, we've got to think of the mission,’ Ajit said. ‘We get Charvet, and then we can get your dad.’ He put his hand on Michael’s shoulder from behind. ‘Come on. Your dad will be okay for now. Then, we will get him before they do.’
Ajit made sense to Michael; he knew what he was saying was right. He just wished he could tell his heart that.
Suddenly, Michael’s phone began to vibrate. It was George. The text message said: Michael, we’ve just heard Charvet is going to give a speech during half-time in the centre of the pitch. We’ll grab him then.
‘Here, chief. Get this big juicy burger down your neck.’ Mohammad spoke through a mouthful of chips. ‘We’ve got eyes on your dad. He's our priority. Not Charvet. Let’s go watch Ireland show France how to play football.’ Michael took his burger. Mohammad could be touching when he wanted to be. He was the joker of the group, but Michael knew his heart was in the right place.
Together, they made their way towards the stand, all filling their mouths with Pepsi and burgers. Ajit was wrestling with a foot-long chilli dog that was getting all over his glasses and flag. As they stepped into the stadium, the time was seven thirty-four. The game was about to kick off.
‘Our seats are down at the pitch.’ Scarlett shouted over the noise. Leading the way. Michael walked directly past his father, who was seated at the edge of his row. They both looked into each other’s eyes as he passed. The national anthems were about to begin. There was an atmospheric silence. You could hear a pin drop from the other side of the stadium. Michael looked at his phone, another message from Alban. All ready to drop in and say hello. The chopper is good to go. See you at eight-forty. This is exciting.
Michael looked at Marcel, Mohammad, Ajit and Scarlett, who were all lined up to his left, all stuffing their faces with fried food.
Then, to his right, he felt a squeeze on his hand. ‘Are you okay?’ Sofia shouted in his ear. Michael nodded. ‘He’ll be okay, don’t worry.’
‘God, I hope we don’t have any problems,’ Michael replied. Hoping he could believe that, but he didn’t. This is going to be a long night in France.
Chapter Ten
DURING THE IRISH ANTHEM, Mohammad stood to attention firing a salute to Ireland, standing tall and proud as if he really was from the Emerald Isle. He turned to the rest, including Michael, calling for them to salute also. They all found Mohammad’s character a great escape from their current turmoil.
After the anthems, they took their seats. Michael struggled to believe his father was directly behind him. It was as if Mr O’Hagan’s eyes were cutting right into the back of his head from the top of the stand.
During the first half, there was an abundance of cheers and boos from both sets of fans. Mohammad and Marcel were now more passionate Irish fans than half of the Irish supporters.
Pierre had joined them. ‘I’ve just scoped the stadium out. We have a lot of friends here tonight.’
‘Doesn't surprise me!’ Michael shouted.
At eight twenty, thirty-five minutes into the first half, it was still 0-0. Both teams had countless opportunities at scoring, but neither were successful.
Michael tapped his feet nervously off the concrete step, looking to the sky. The magnificent French sky was saying goodnight to France. He retreated into his mind where he could seek comfort.
He jumped, as did the rest of the team when they heard aggressive screams from people behind them.
‘That’s what happens when people drink too much alcohol,’ Sofia shouted into Michael’s ear. ‘Are you okay?’ She tugged on his sleeve.
‘I’m okay, thanks.’ He turned and looked into her eyes. He could see something in those big mahogany coloured gems that sat just above her little nose. She'd changed. Her innocence seemed to be gone. She was so dedicated to what they were doing,
but to Michael, she appeared to be blocking out whatever demons she was dealing with after killing Jose Garcia.
‘What the hell’s going on up there?’ Scarlett gestured to the top of the stand where the Irish supporters club stood. ‘Looks like someone's had too much to drink,’ she pointed at two men pushing and shoving.
‘Where’s my dad?’ Michael shouted, scanning the area. ‘Shit, where is he?’ Panic set in. His darted everywhere. ‘I’ve got to go look for him.’
‘He’s probably gone for a piss,’ Ajit shouted. ‘Don’t worry. Your dad’s okay, just needing a slash.’
‘The toilet?’ Michael laughed. ‘Seven minutes before half-time?’ He looked at the rest. ‘Something’s wrong. I’ve gotta go look for him.’
‘Michael, it’s almost half-time, you can’t disappear,’ Scarlett shouted. ‘What if something happens?’ She looked at him and sighed. She wasn’t getting through to him. ‘Shit, Michael!’ She looked at Marcel. ‘You go with him, be back before the end of the first half.’
‘I’m going, too,’ Sofia shouted. ‘Lets go.’
Michael ran up the steps, Sofia and Marcel behind him, when from under a huge hat, lifted a head. Mr O’Hagan had been staring at his phone with his head pointed to the ground. Michael was only seeing the top of a silly hat most people were wearing.
‘False alarm.’ Glad his father was okay, Michael turned and the three headed back to their seats.
Eight thirty had arrived, and the referee signalled for another three minutes of injury time. The Irish had almost scored a goal in the second minute of added time. By now, the screams were deafening from behind them.
Michael certainly had his wits about him; his senses were razor sharp. But this was a new test. It wasn’t like in Mexico where he spoke in front of a camera lens deep in the jungle. This was his first test of dealing with the world hands on – his first confrontation with a world leader.