by Paul Heron
‘This is us,’ Maria said. ‘We’re meeting him in here.’ She led the car slowly towards an underground car park.
The car fell quiet as the sunlight disappeared, the shade causing the air temperature to drop. The three in the back looked around nervously as the car descended the ramp into the underground. Every sound the car made echoed. The sound of Enrique’s screeching tyres behind them sounded crisp. A penny could have been heard falling three levels above.
‘What is this place?’ Marcel asked.
‘It’s the hotel of Torrelavega,’ Maria said. ‘Don’t worry, nobody knows we're here.’ She stopped, letting the other car catch up. ‘There he is.’ She reversed into a parking bay beside a silver Seat Ibiza.
‘Leave the engine running,’ Michael said.
They watched a short bald man with a thick black moustache struggle to climb out of the lowered car. He smiled at Maria then waved across to Enrique in the other car. He walked around the front of Maria's car, climbing into the front passenger seat.
‘Hola, Guillermo. Gracias!’ Maria said. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘Hola, everyone!’ He looked around and shook the hands of Michael, Mohammad and Marcel.
Mohammad spoke first. ‘Have you found anything about the president? We want to move fast.’
‘My editor has told me we're covering a story on the president about this important material they’ve found. They're really selling this idea about it's energy and think it’s going to change things for our country because it was found here. I’m very excited to meet the president and see exactly how he is. This drug apparently does not have any visible symptoms, so it’ll be interesting to see how he acts and responds to my questions. From what I have seen from him, it’s hard to tell if he’s still himself, or if there is Fomorian blood flowing through his veins.’
‘Yeah, the French president was like that, too,’ Marcel said. ‘Don’t be fooled by him.’
Guillermo looked down at the ground, stroking his moustache as if deep in thought. ‘Just one question?’
‘What?’ Michael asked.
‘How do you want me to handle the fragment if I can get my hands on it?’
‘Don’t touch it.’ Marcel said. ‘There's something that we have that will allow us to touch it when others can't.’
‘What do you have?’ Guillermo looked either excited or nervous. He swallowed hard, using the back of his hand to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead.
Marcel looked at Mohammad, then Michael. Michael shook his head as if to say no, he felt like Guillermo was asking too many questions. ‘Thanks for helping us, Guillermo,’ Michael said. ‘It’s safer if less people know about our secrets. You don’t want to be in possession of potentially deadly information. These people will come after everyone you love for anything that will help them.’
‘That's only until we kick their asses and stick one to old man Pietro!’ Mohammad said, breaking the tense silence in the car.
Ajit approached from the other car, towards Guillermo’s door. He pulled the door open and handed him a tracking device and bug. ‘We've been listening from the other car. Leave this somewhere close to the president. Even better if he had it on his person – jacket, bag or something that he travels with. Eduardo and I will do the rest.’
‘Guillermo,’ Maria said, as he stepped out of the car, glaring at the devices in his hand. ‘Be careful and stay in touch.’
He forced a smile. ‘I will, thanks!’
They all watched as the Seat pulled out of the car park.
‘Can we trust him?’ Carolina said through the sound system from the other car.
’He’s trustworthy,’ Enrique said.
‘He’s worked for us for a long time,’ Maria added. ‘Why would he betray us?’
‘Why did Hamish?’ Sofia said from the other car.
‘Let's get out of here,’ Eduardo said. ‘I hate confined spaces, and this place gives me the creeps.’
Chapter Five
AT SEVEN IN THE EVENING, Michael went to his room for some chill-out time to gather his thoughts. He took off his jacket, shoes and socks then dropped himself onto his king-sized bed. He laughed when he noticed a poster of the Antrim Gaelic football team pinned to the ceiling. Scarlett. He knew it was her. She was forever leaving him reminders that she was thinking about him.
His Samsung vibrated in his pocket, tickling his leg. It was a Facebook friend request from Mohammad. He realised his friend list was a staggeringly long list, which consisted of George, Scarlett and now Mohammad. He then searched Mohammad's friend list. Finding the others, he sent requests out.
He looked at the news feed: George and Scarlett had been tagged in photos from other agents saying how they were excited to welcome them and “the chosen seven” to each of their country’s. There seemed to be an excitement within the foundation since everything had begun.
Continuing down the feed, Michael spotted an image of Bruce's Cave. He looked at it with a new-found appreciation. A respect, knowing the power that it had. The Greeks had Olympus. The Irish had their realm. The Otherworld, and the doorway was being shown to people on Facebook, without them even realising. Scrolling past the image of the cave, he came to the photo he'd seen at Belfast City Airport the day he’d left Ireland behind. The photo that started it all for him, his first hint that the world as he knew it wasn’t what it seemed. And just like it happened in France, a portal appeared in the middle of the room. Elisabetta could be seen on the other side, sitting in her garden drinking a cup of coffee as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Michael rose up from the bed and walked towards the portal. He hesitated before stepping through. For a moment he was overcome with a fear like he hadn’t felt before.
Then he stepped through. A dark shadow cast over him, then it passed.
‘Michael,’ Elisabetta said, feeding an oversized purple umbrella through the centre of the table. She smiled at him. ‘Come and join me.’
Michael watched her stroll towards a blank canvas. He wondered what she was painting. She looked back at him. ‘A lot has happened since we last spoke,’ she said. Turning back to the canvas, she looked at it, her head tilted. ‘I'm glad you’re okay.’
Michael felt strange about the meeting, but glad at the same time. He made his way towards her. ‘I, no I mean we have so many questions. The entire foundation wants to know why-'
‘Why you?’ She finished for him. ‘It’s not important why, Michael. Don't worry about that for now. Keep doing what you're doing, and soon you’ll understand why.’
He stepped around the circular picnic table, snagging his trousers on a rusty nail and joined Elisabetta at the canvas. ‘What are you painting?’ He looked at the canvas and saw she had painted what looked like two blue eyes, nothing else. ‘Where's the face? The head?’ he laughed.
She looked at him and shook her head, laughing. She pointed her left index finger at the canvas. Swirling her finger in a circular motion, a face appeared around the eyes. It was Michael’s face. Then she drew Sofia’s face to the left of Michael’s.
Michael’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets.
‘This, Michael is the beginning of a portrait of my favourite people. It’s just begun. Similar, I suppose to your own work of art beginning. You’re first test in France was a success.’ She asked him to sit beside her. ‘Don't give up, Michael. You’re all afraid, I know. But I promise you, if you seven continue to lead the foundation, they will all stick with you.’
‘I’m glad I’m not on my own, that’s for sure. The world’s a scary place.’
‘It could get a lot scarier. You must brace yourself for that.’
He looked across the field and saw Storm – Elisabetta’s black unicorn – charging towards them. He looked at Elisabetta. Her hazel eyes sparkled. ‘I’m sorry this happened to you. We're all complaining, but I forget, you were the first to suffer.’
‘I’m happy, Michael. I’m happy because I know, in the end we
will win. Both this world and yours will be without the destruction of the Dark One.’ She cupped his face and pecked him on both cheeks. ‘There is one thing you must know. The Dark One is planning something. Pietro Mancini, or as you all know him as: the God of Greed is assembling a strong army of Fomorians in this world.’ She forced a smile. ‘The Dark One is growing more fearful of you. He must not get inside your head. He will try to manipulate you. Do not let him. You must be strong for what is about to come. If the Dark One gets control of you, he and the God of Greed will have control of both realms. And it will be over for all of us.’
‘What is he planning? From what I know, what the Dagda told me, is that you’re the heir to the throne of this world, if the Dark One falls. I can stay here and help you fight them from this realm. Then once it’s done, I can go back to earth and kick their asses all over the place.’
She giggled. ‘I like your enthusiasm. It’s sweet.’
‘Screw sweet. Let’s fight. Gather the Tuatha de Danann and we’ll take the Fomorians on. We can beat them.’
Elisabetta didn’t reply.
‘What do you say?’ He pressed her.
She remained silent.
‘The gods that have visited me, they tell me you’re very important. You must tell me, tell me what’s going on...’
‘Enough!’ She shouted. The ground shook.
‘What if you’re in danger, if the Dark One thinks you’re a threat to him, you could...’
She cut him off again, this time with a lowered tone. ‘I will deal with my fate, as it comes, Michael.’
He was getting pissed off with all the secrecy. ‘No. It’s not enough. You’ve dragged me into this, you must tell me more. I’ve heard Mancini agents talk about the gods coming back to our world. How is this possible? And if it is possible, why don’t you come back and help us?’
He looked at Elisabetta. She was staring over his shoulder into the distance. Her eyes glazed over, her jaw dropped. ‘You must not tell anyone about what we’ve discussed here, Michael.’ She continued to stare over his shoulder. It was as if she was looking into the abyss. She gripped his hands, almost stopping the circulation.
A terrifying scream and a gust of wind pulled Michael off his seat. He whipped his head around finding himself in total darkness.
He woke up on his bed with the sound of Mohammad banging on the door. ‘Chief, open up!’
Michael rubbed his temples with his fingertips. ‘Okay,’ he yelled, rolling off the bed. As he walked past the wardrobe, in the mirror’s reflection he noticed blue paint on his trousers and hands. He opened the door and held his hand up to show Mohammad the paint.
‘What the hell's that?’
‘Paint. From the farm in Tuscany.’
‘You've been on another date with Elisabetta?’
Michael nodded.
‘Tell us over dinner. I’m starved. Sofia and Maria are helping Scarlett prepare dinner.’
As they entered the kitchen, Michael was hit in the face with the heat coming from the oven and hob. In his groggy state, the constant hum from the extractor fan assaulted his eardrums. Sofia was stirring something in a pot. The smell of steamed veg and butter made his mouth water. Scarlett was chopping mushrooms and carrots on the worktop beside Sofia, and Maria was setting the table.
As Michael sat at the table feeling awfully petrified after his meeting, Maria looked at him and smiled. ‘You look like you’ve just woke up.’ She set a plate down in front of him. ‘Is that paint?’ She noticed the blue on his hands, but before Michael had a chance to say a word, Mohammed butted in.
‘Michael’s been on another hot date with Elisabetta!’ he shouted out the patio doors to where the rest were sitting in the garden.
Sofia spun around, wooden spoon in her hand. ‘What? What did she say?’ She threw the spoon down and dried her hands on her apron. She joined him at the table.
‘What did she say, Michael?’ Scarlett said.
‘I can’t believe It,’ Maria said. ‘But how? It’s really possible!’
‘I seen a photo of Bruce's Cave on Facebook, then the one I saw at the airport on Friday. The next thing I know is I’m stepping through a portal and watching her paint in her back garden.’ He held his paint splattered hand up for them to see. ‘Hence the paint.’
Everyone came in and joined them at the table.
‘How is she?’ Sofia asked.
‘She's fine,’ Michael said casually.
‘Can she help us?’ Carolina asked, sitting down beside him.
‘She didn’t mention any extra help.’ Michael continued the casual tone. ‘She seemed pretty chilled to be honest.’ He didn’t want to tell them the end where he’d seen terror on Elisabetta’s face.
‘Chilled? Chilled?’ Ajit griped. ‘Did you tell her we're not chilling here?’
Michael laughed without responding.
‘Oh, God. Here it comes, the hissy fit!’ Mohammad said, gesturing at Ajit’s shocked expression. ‘I’ll call George.’
‘So, did she give anything away?’ Marcel asked, jumping up and sitting on the work station beside the hob, turning the cooker off. ‘Like, has she given you anything?’
‘Not really,’ Michael said. ‘Our only hope is to focus on returning the sculpture. One piece at a time.’
‘Nice!’ Ajit said sarcastically. ‘Very helpful!’
‘Here’s George?’ Mohammad placed his phone in the middle of the table. ‘Fire away, George. We're all here.’
‘Michael, I guess Elisabetta was as secretive as ever?’
‘You know how she is.’ Michael laughed, playing down his meeting again, much to the annoyance of everyone else.
‘Okay. Well, it’s good at least you still have contact with her. I’ll inform Domenico Cipolla.’ George cleared his throat and continued. ‘Now, guys – I know you feel an obligation to protect Guillermo while he's helping us, but for God's sake be careful. After we return the Spanish fragment, maybe we can be a little choosier about which country we go to next.’
The sound of a chopper’s arrival momentarily distracted everyone's attention from George.
Eduardo ran to the door. ‘It's only Alban!’ He said as everyone's shoulders dropped, they all relaxed.
‘If we go with Guillermo tomorrow, firstly, he’s safer, and secondly, if the opportunity arises to nab the president then it’s better if we're around to do so,’ Michael said. He stood up and touched Sofia and Eduardo. ‘I saw the sweat on his head today in the car. Either he’s lying to us or he’s genuinely terrified. Either way it’s better if we're closer.’
‘Agreed,’ Marcel said. ‘As George said, once we’ve sorted Spain out, then we’ll have more freedom to go further afield.’
‘One step at a time,’ Eduardo said.
‘Or one foot in Mancini Corporation’s ass at a time,’ Sofia said. ‘Let’s have some dinner and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.’
Chapter Six
THE NEXT MORNING, MICHAEL woke at ten past seven, twenty minutes before his alarm was due to go off. He'd left his window open throughout the night. A stuffy room was something he’d hated even in colder climates like Ireland. Spain and it’s Mediterranean climate was new to him; unlike Sofia, Marcel, Carolina, Ajit, Mohammad and Eduardo who were all from warmer parts of the world. But Michael, like Scarlett and Ringo would take a little longer to get used to the heat.
He rolled off his bed and stepped into his slippers. Throwing on his robe he trudged across his room, following the smell of salt and seaweed. He could hear mumbling coming from the beach. A man was teaching a young boy how to surf. He watched them laugh together as the man acted silly, falling off the surfboard onto his back. Michael wanted that normal life again. A life more care-free. Without any real responsibility. He wondered would it return. Then he shook himself. ‘Get a grip!’ He scolded himself, returning to his bed to check his phone. ‘Stop wondering about what if. You've got a job to.’
He snatc
hed his phone up. No news. No urgent messages from George. The old saying of “no news is good news” rang true.
Feeling positive about the day, he decided to go down and rustle up a “breakfast for kings” to treat the rest of the team. But as he opened his bedroom door and stepped into the hallway, he was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee wafting up from the kitchen. He followed the smell down the stairs, the sound of conversation getting louder.
Ajit and Marcel were preparing breakfast. Cafe con leche (Spanish for an espresso style drink in a frothy milk) accompanied by sugared churros. ‘You're all up early,’ he said as he sat down beside Sofia and Maria, who were watching the fifty-inch plasma mounted to the wall above an equally large tropical fish tank.
‘Morning,’ Maria said. ‘We're just watching the news to see what’s happening in the world or should I say this world.’
‘And see where we - the most wanted group in the world – rack up today.’ Sofia laughed while chewing on a banana. ‘And this handsome man-’ she pointed at a slim guy with chin length glossy back hair on the TV.
‘-is Diego Rodriquez.’ Maria finished. ‘Mancini Corporation's Spanish leader. And the rather lost looking chap beside him is Spanish President Sergio Perez. They're talking about a “new find” and something quite special. A good news day for Spain and the Spanish people.’ Maria sounded sarcastic.
‘AKA Bullshit,’ Marcel shouted across the room causing Ajit to explode into a fit of high-pitched laughter.
Maria laughed in agreement with Marcel's remark as she walked over to the patio doors. Voices could be heard. She looked out.
‘Is it Ringo and the others?’ Michael asked.
She came back to the table, nodding her head. ‘The Spanish people and people of other countries, of course, have more sense than to believe these guys.’
‘Yes, but if our friend Perez here...’ Sofia pointed at the TV. ‘Is now a Fomorian, like the French president was, or maybe still is, then all that matters is the person running the country. We must go after him, and the fragment.’