The Second Renaissance Series Boxset

by Paul Heron

  He felt his phone vibrate. It was George. Michael, don’t panic. Every exit is blocked. Mancini agents have swarmed the stadium and are waiting for Charvet. He is definitely giving a speech at half time. Grab him then, before Mancini find out what we're doing. They will watch the stand until the end of the game. But, Alban’s got some guts. He’s going to land the chopper in the stadium, on the pitch; you guys need to grab Charvet. Then we’ll get your dad. Please, Michael. Do this. As soon as he makes his speech, grab him. We've picked up Eduardo and Carolina. Michael, no second guessing, just get him. Alban will be there, on the pitch.

  ‘Shit!’ Michael shouted, trying not to look around at the exits. He looked at Sofia. ‘We’re surrounded.’

  ‘What do you mean? Surrounded?’

  ‘Don’t look, but George said Mancini agents have covered every exit to the stadium.’

  The half-time whistle went. People moved from their seats to go to the toilets or buy more refreshments.

  Michael glanced at Sofia, then the rest. ‘This is it, as soon as we see the president, we go for it!’ He looked over his shoulder to see if his dad was still there. He wasn’t, which caused panic to set in. He felt like going after Mr O’Hagan, but he was going to listen to George this time. He remembered how he felt when George told him he knew he’d contacted his dad. He wasn’t going to betray George’s trust again. What was certain, Mr O’Hagan was Michael’s weak spot and if Mancini Corporation realised this, they’d be certain to capitalise on that.

  It wasn’t usual practice for the president to address supporters, so people thought it must be something quite important – like the discovery of an important piece of stone that had been living under the noses of the French public for many generations.

  ‘Here he comes,’ Ajit said, fixing his hat and pointing towards the tunnel where the players entered the field.

  There was an overwhelming cheer from both French and Irish supporters, a true show of sportsmanship. The atmosphere was powerful; so powerful. Michael was reminded how it felt when people of different cultures showed respect for one another. Why would he want to upset this moment, a moment when nations truly were together? The French people would be furious at their president being dragged off the field, probably crying like a baby. But the reality was: he’d gotten himself into a situation that was going to cost everyone. He was now a Fomorian. They were taking down, anyway they could.

  With his phone in his hand, his adrenaline filled body jumped as it vibrated. It was George again. Michael, we’re thirty seconds away from the stadium. We’re going straight in. Get Charvet, now!

  The president took centre field, surrounded by security; not stadium officials, men in black suits – surely Mancini agents. He had a microphone in his face, held by a journalist from a local radio station. He started speaking, first in Irish Gaelic to welcome the Irish fans, and then in French. The thumping sound from above signalled Alban’s arrival. The president, along with his security, had no idea what was going on. Mancini agents all had their fingers pressed to their earpieces, probably updating Couture.

  ‘That’s it, let’s go,’ Michael shouted as he indicated for the rest to follow him. He didn’t look back, although he wanted to. He wondered was his father watching him. People in the stands thought it was an invitation to get on the field. So not only were Michael and the rest accessing the field, but so too were the other fans.

  ‘Michael, Marcel, you two are the most physically equipped. You two get the president, we’ll have your backs.’ Scarlett shouted.

  ‘I’ve closed down communication satellites,’ Ajit shouted.

  ‘Here come some angry birds.’ Mohammad whistled a defining sound, causing a swarm of about thirty birds to fly down from the stadium’s roof, attacking the security.

  Just as the chopper landed, Michael and Marcel sprinted towards Charvet. The French leader had a look of terror on his face, not a clue what was happening. He looked as if he was about the see his end. ‘It’s okay,’ Michael shouted in French. ‘We’re here to help.’ He grabbed Charvet, who was throwing punches. Marcel grabbed him by the other side, and they dragged him towards the chopper. Screams came from all around, fans were everywhere. Ringo and Ahmad jumped out of the chopper armed with pistols. Carolina and Eduardo waited at the door of the chopper to help get him in.

  With a guarded circle around Charvet, they made their way towards the chopper and got in. It was pandemonium, Scarlett and Pierre pulled out their pistols. Scarlett fired two warning shots into the air. Charvet screamed and cried for Marcel and Michael to stop. His terrifying screams cut through Michael. They all jumped back in; with Ringo, Ahmad, Scarlett and Pierre pointing their guns at the crowd to keep them away.

  ‘Get us outta here!’ Scarlett shouted as the door closed and the chopper took off.

  It was eight thirty-five and they'd done it. They'd gotten their target. But Michael felt sick with guilt as he listened to the terrified cries of Charvet. He looked out the window and could see the sea of French and Irish supporters all over the pitch. Then French police arrived.

  ‘I guess the second half will be called off then?’ Mohammad joked. ‘The Irish fans will never forgive you for this, Michael.’ He laughed, egging Ajit to join in the jokes.

  A silence fell over the cabin. They all looked at each other in disbelief with nothing but the cries of Charvet.

  ‘Ajit, you can deactivate L’amico now,’ George said. ‘We’re on our way back to the house. In a few hours, we’ll be out of this country and onto the next.’

  ‘What about our emotional friend over here?’ Carolina asked, gesturing towards the president. ‘Are we sure he’s one of those things? He’s not acting like it, sitting there sniffling. Not very Fomorian like, I’m sure.’

  ‘We’ll soon find out,’ Scarlett said. ‘It could all be an act. She looked down at Charvet, who was wiping his nose with his sleeve.

  ‘Tomorrow, we-’ Sofia was cut off by Michael.

  ‘Screw tomorrow,’ he shouted. ‘If Mancini agents get their hands on my dad, we’re going after him tonight, not tomorrow.’ He looked at George, who was nodding his head.

  ‘Let’s just get to the house, then we’ll figure it all out,’ George shouted. ‘How does everybody feel? About what’s just happened?’

  ‘As long as it’s for the best, then I’ve no problem with it,’ Marcel shouted. Everyone grunted to agree. ‘And if our amigo’s dad needs us, we go get him.’

  Michael felt Marcel pat him on the shoulder. He looked around the cabin. Everyone shell-shocked. Charvet finally spoke up in English.

  ‘You’re all in deep trouble for what you have just done, you know that?’ He wiped his nose again. ‘When I say you’re all in big trouble, it is not an over exaggeration, trust me!’

  ‘I wish your threats were a worry to us, President, but either way, we’re all in trouble,’ Michael said as he looked at Sofia. He looked at her with gratitude for saving his life, but also for hope. She was, after all, part of the Sirani family - the one family that was secretly trying to defeat the Mancini Corporation. He looked around the chopper at everyone. God, what next? He closed his eyes and thought.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE CHOPPER LANDED in the back garden of the estate, situated on the coast of France. The night was exquisite. Under different circumstances, Michael and the rest would have truly appreciated what their eyes were seeing – natural beauty. Perhaps this was what they needed to drive them on, to save the world and all it’s natural beauty, instead of letting Mancini Corporation and the Dark One destroy it.

  ‘You okay man?’ Eduardo tapped Michael on the back as they disembarked the chopper. Michael barely acknowledged the question. ‘Amigo, your father will be fine. The Irish fans are tough, and I bet Mancini clowns will not have got to him.’

  Michael put his arm around Eduardo as they strolled across the garden towards the outdoor swimming pool. ‘Gracias.’ He knew Eduardo meant well, but he wasn’t so sure he was right. They
sat down on the deck chairs, watching an inflatable bed float along the fifteen-meter pool, the pool lights causing the water to glow in the dark. ‘Eduardo, what happened in Mexico? I mean, what did they do to you?’

  Eduardo’s face went from it’s normal child-like innocence, to the face of a broken soul which Michael had first seen in the jungle.

  Eduardo looked down at the ground, momentarily silent. ‘It’s not important. What’s important is that you guys came for me.’ His eyes were glazed and darting everywhere, unable to focus. This was leading Michael to believe that his mind was somewhere else, probably back in the detention camp. But clearly, he didn’t want to talk about it.

  Michael just dropped it. ‘Cool. Let’s go find out where the French fragment is so we can get some rest.’ Jumping up from the plastic sun lounger, he reached down and pulled Eduardo up.

  ‘You know, we have lots to do, for that strange lady and her weird horse. She’s keeping us busy!’

  Michael smiled, ‘Yes, she is. Just don’t let Sofia hear you refer to Elisabetta like that. I hear Carolina has been teaching her some martial arts.’

  The two headed towards the house when George came to the front door.

  ‘Let’s go talk to our new friend.’ He waited at the door for them. As they entered the house, the sound of Mohammad playing Ajit at pool roared out of the games room beside the kitchen; loud enough to give away their location.

  The sound of raised voices bellowing out of the sitting room as Michael and Eduardo entered was a sign of the tension building.

  ‘You’re all committing a major crime. You’ll all be punished. SEVERELY!’ screamed Charvet in French.

  ‘I’m afraid we have no other choice, President.’ Sofia replied in French, standing over Charvet. ‘We’re more surprised about this than you are. Trust me.’ She looked at Michael and Eduardo. Giving Michael a look as if to say we need to get going.

  ‘You...’ Charvet looked at Michael. ‘You’re the one who’s face was plastered all over the TV on Monday. My boy, you’re getting yourself into so much trouble.’ Charvet laughed, trying to appear confident. ‘You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.’ He mumbled, looking at the ground, shaking his head.

  ‘I wish it was that easy, President,’ Michael said, sitting down beside him. ‘I wish it was that easy.’ He looked at him. ‘You’re a Fomorian, living in the human body of what was the human President Charvet.

  ‘What?’ The president was astounded.

  ‘You can hide it all you want, but sooner or later we’ll get it out of you.’ Michael stood up and cleared his throat.

  ‘You know the France shaped fragment of the stone map, which has been in the possession of French royalty for over three hundred years, where is it?’ Marcel took over.

  ‘That stupid fragment.’ Charvet laughed. ‘Why the sudden interest? You’re the second bunch of clowns asking about it. And I’ll tell you the same thing as I told them. It’s not worth that fancy suit you’re wearing. Ms Coutour told me you would be interested in the piece. At least she offered to pay to see it, which I don’t get because it’s useless.’

  ‘He's talking bull!’ Sofia shouted. ‘We know you’re a Fomorian. Give us the fragment and we’ll let you go.’

  ‘You’re all insane.’ Charvet sniggered. ‘I know nothing of what you’re talking about. Now take me back, before you go too far.’

  Sofia looked at Michael. ‘They've told him to say this.’

  ‘We haven’t got time for this,’ Carolina shouted, breathing heavily. ‘We need to find it before they get their hands on it. We’re not messing around.’

  ‘Sexy lady when you’re angry!’ Mohammad said as he and Ajit walked into the kitchen, Ajit looking less pleased over the game’s result. ‘Any food going? I’m starved; kicking Ajit’s ass does that to a man.’

  ‘Shut up, Mohammad, before I kick your ass.’ Carolina clenched her fists, pushed her chest out, glaring at Mohammad.

  ‘Let’s go rummage through the kitchen, see what we can find,’ Marcel said, being the one to defuse the situation for once. ‘I’m starved, too!’

  George’s phone sounded. He rushed out, looking at Michael, smiling. Michael wondered if it was something to do with the Irish fans, more importantly, his father.

  Just as George left, Ringo arrived with a stranger.

  ‘Who died in here?’ Ringo shouted, trying to make light of the situation.

  ‘Ciao, Sofia,’ the man said.

  ‘Ciao, dottore, good to see you,’ Sofia said. ‘Everyone, this is Dr Rizzo.’

  The doctor made a point to go around the room and individually introduce himself to the team. He was a middle-aged, grey haired man; short and stocky. He wore a shiny gold watch. His hair was a mess. He pulled a comb from his back pocket and tried to put it in some order, but it kept falling back into it's messy position again.

  ‘Okay,’ Dr Rizzo said, walking over to Charvet, who was glaring at him. ‘I’m sorry for all this mess.’ He sat down beside Charvet. ‘But it really isn’t their fault.’ He gestured to Michael and the rest. ‘In an hour or so, we’ll have you escorted back to Paris. If you tell us what we need to hear.’

  Charvet loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his perfectly white shirt.

  Dr Rizzo smiled. ‘We’ve heard you’re in danger, so we’ve had to take you away from that danger until it's been neutralised. We can assure you that all this will be over very soon. If President Charvet is still in there somewhere, we’ll help him. Whatever Fomorian is living in you, I’ve got something that will get it out.’

  ‘Forgive me, Doctor if I’m not confident in the authenticity of any words that come out of your mouth.’ He looked at Michael again. ‘With the world after you, my young Irish rebel, it’s only a matter of time before you’re behind bars.’

  Michael’s heart sank into his stomach. He was playing a big boy’s game now, and he wasn’t sure how it would all play out.

  Sofia touched Michael on the shoulder from behind and whispered into his ear. ‘Together, right?’

  Michael looked over his shoulder and smiled. ‘Right.’

  What would you like to eat, to drink, President?’ Dr Rizzo asked. ‘Your short stay here will be as comfortable as possible.’

  ‘Screw you,’ Charvet said.

  ‘I’ll bring you some coffee and some croissants.’ Dr Rizzo stood up. He looked at the rest of them. Even Fomorians couldn’t pass up a good meal. ‘One hour, President. One hour, and you will be on a flight back to Paris. You have our word.’

  Charvet sniggered.

  George entered the room, tossing his phone from hand to hand, staring thoughtfully at the ground as if trying to figure out a riddle. He looked around the room, not making eye contact with anyone. ‘We need to chat. In the kitchen. Now.’

  They all looked at each other. Michael knew what it was about. They all walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Great, you’re all here,’ Mohammad shouted, staring through the glass oven door to check on what he was preparing. It smelt like chicken breasts, with some spicy flavouring. Nothing spectacular, but he looked pleased with himself. ‘Get comfy. This’ll be half an hour or so.’

  George closed the kitchen door. Scarlett opened the patio doors to let some fresh air in. She turned and folded her arms, clearing her throat.

  ‘Leave that for a second, Mohammad and listen up,’ George said, looking at Michael. ‘Michael, you’re not going to like this.’

  Michael’s heart fell into his stomach.

  ‘Mancini agents have kidnapped your father and are using him as bate to draw you in. They want you, Michael. And if they catch you, they will be cutting the head off our entire organisation. And Elisabetta can’t help you.’

  ‘Why can’t she?’ Sofia shouted.

  ‘Because, Sofia her place on earth ended in 1665.’ George sounded irritated. ‘Elisabetta, like all others, who crossed into the Otherworld through the gates of the Dark One cannot return. Opening those gates w
ould be catastrophic.’ He looked at Michael. ‘We need to find out why, and how she summoned you. That was very dangerous – opening a portal between the two worlds. But first, we worry about getting your father back.’

  ‘Okay, what are we waiting for? Let’s get a move on. We’ve got work to do,’ Marcel said, slapping Michael across the back. ‘Let’s go get your dad, amigo.’

  ‘Not so fast, Marcel,’ George said. ‘Let our agents get your father, Michael.’ George stepped up to Michael and tapped him affectionately on the cheek. ‘Okay?’

  ‘It should be us who gets him back,’ Michael said. ‘I’m going to get him. My dad needs me. I won’t let him down.’

  George sighed. He dropped his head and walked away from Michael and Marcel, shaking his head. ‘Didn’t you hear me? This is what they want.’ He sat down at the kitchen table. ‘They’re after you, Michael. They know you’re the one Elisabetta speaks to.’

  ‘George, they have my father. And if you’re sending people to get him, I’m going.’

  ‘You’re not going. And that’s it,’ George said in his calm, robotic tone.

  ‘I am, and you won’t stop me. I’ll snap in half anyone who gets in my way.’

  The tension in the room was thick. There was an uneasy silence. A few throats cleared.

  George sighed again, still shaking his head looking at the ground. ‘I won’t sanction an operation that destroys everything.’

  ‘Screw you then, George!’

  ‘Michael!’ Scarlett shouted in a bid to defuse the situation.

  ‘I’m going after my father, and anyone who doesn’t help me, then screw you too!’ He shouted at the top of his voice, storming across the kitchen towards the patio doors. ‘I’ll get him myself if I have to.’ He stepped out into the garden, trembling with rage. He walked across the garden and sat at the wall that looked down onto the beach. He sat, legs dangling over the edge. The sea breeze cooled his hot head. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. The smell of seaweed and salt in the air reminded him of those summer holidays in Galway. How they used to go fishing. Those family memories were priceless. Mr O’Hagan trying to be the world’s best fisherman, his mother nursing baby Aoife. It was as if he was replaying the video in his head.