by Paul Heron
‘Have you forgotten an important part of it?’ Mohammad asked. They all looked at him, wondering if he was joking or not. He made a circling shape around his face with his finger. ‘This thing on the front of your heads!’ He was serious. ‘You expect to just dance right in there, everything on show?’
‘No, it’s a masquerade ball,’ Scarlett said, grabbing her black Gucci bag that was hanging over her chair. She pulled out a mask and put it on. ‘Nobody will know a thing.’
‘Great,’ Sofia said, taking a mask as Scarlett handed one out to each of the six.
After ten minutes of stuffing their faces, and acting normal, Maria said the words that would set everyone's heart beating a little faster. ‘Okay, time to move.’ She poured the rest of her glass of water down her throat. ‘Let’s go!’
Chapter Twelve
THEY ALL JUMPED INTO the chopper and took off. The coastal resort, which the Sirani Foundation called a house, gradually shrunk as Scarlett took the metal bird into the sky.
Michael felt a tingling sensation in his stomach. Those butterflies had returned. He felt an overwhelming urge to run, to turn back. Like Carolina, his gut feeling had gone into overdrive and he feared their luck would eventually run out. He looked around the cabin. All the faces of his team were blank, perhaps thoughtful. He looked at them, full of hope. He imagined how he'd feel if anything happened to them. He only knew them a short time, but he knew he loved them all as if they were his family. And that's why he fought to hide his fear. He knew the group was strong, but only if they had confidence in who was leading them.
Michael felt Sofia lean in close to him. ‘Are you okay?’ she said, squeezing his clammy hand. ‘You're thinking a lot.’
He wasn’t going to tell her he was nervous – instead he lied for the good of morality. ‘Yeah. I’m just thinking about how awesome it's going to be to stand and look at the completed sculpture again.’ He watched as the rest of the group played on their phones. ‘It's funny how all this is becoming the norm after only a few days. It’s as if we were re-born since we came back from the Otherworld. I don't know who I am now. I feel like there’s an element of the Irish gods in me.’
‘Si, ho capito,’ Sofia agreed in Italian. ‘I wish I could speak to Elisabetta again.’ Her head slowly lowered as if paying respects to someone. Looking down at the ground, she said, ‘why can’t I speak to her, Michael? I’ve always tried to live my life using her memory as strength and confidence. She was always my greatest inspiration.’
Michael slowly placed his finger tips below her chin and raised her head again. ‘Sofia, you should hold your head high. Elisabetta told me she's proud that you're a Sirani.’ He took her hand. She squeezed his tightly. ‘I wish I had the answer for you. I don’t choose when I speak to her. It just happens.’ He took her hand up to his mouth and kissed her on the knuckles as if he was greeting a princess.
‘I feel sick.’ Mohammad blurted out. ‘Get a room.’
‘Eduardo,’ Carolina shouted. ‘What are you watching?’
Eduardo was sitting with his face behind the screen of his silver laptop. All that could be seen were his two eyes and forehead. ‘I’m listening to a conversation in the president’s office. Our friend President Perez seems to be having a conversation with our best friend Rodriquez. They're discussing Germany. They think we're there which is good, hopefully in Madrid their guard will be down.’
‘Let's hope for an easy night then,’ Marcel said. ‘But, I’m sure we can all agree that saying those words, or even thinking them isn’t a good idea. We need to be realistic and remember who we're playing with. This isn't a game. France was a close call. We can’t have a repeat of that.’
‘Is Dr Rizzo here? Or is he coming soon?’ Mohammad asked Scarlett.
She nodded. ‘He’ll be ready when we get the president.’ She said this while staring at her phone. ‘In fact, he’s just messaged me. He's at the house now, just killing time until we reach him.’
A few minutes later, the chopper flew above the farm house they'd been to earlier. As Scarlett landed the Black Hawk in the front yard outside the barns, a silver Mercedes got a shower with the land’s dry dirt. The licence plate read DR UNO.
‘Well, he’s definitely here then.’ Carolina laughed as they all jumped out. ‘I love that plate.’
‘It's such a nice car,’ Ringo said, admiring the luxurious German vehicle. He walked towards it. ‘There's something about German cars, they're such well-constructed machines. And the luxury inside is something else,’ Ringo continued his description for anyone who would listen, which seemed to be only Michael and Marcel.
Dr Rizzo joined them. ‘You like the car, Ringo?’ the doctor laughed. ‘I’m sure you’ve seen much nicer than this?’
‘Yes, but, I will always appreciate a beautiful car, and this one is beautiful.’ He looked at Michael with wide eyes, a lightbulb moment. ‘You guys are dressed too elegantly to ride in Hummers. I think you should be taken to the palace in this? What do you think, Doctor?’
‘Yes, absolutely,’ the doctor said, ‘anything that you think will help the mission.’
‘But, Ringo,’ Maria interrupted, ‘we've got other luxury cars here, British luxury this time.’ She strolled towards the barns, followed by the rest. Michael and Ringo had a nice surprise when she opened the door to find three new Rolls Royce Ghosts, one black, one white and one blue.
Everyone liked the cars. Big, comfortable and elegant. Not to mention a whopping five litre engine. Very few cars on the road would keep up with these.
‘These are all Sirani cars – fitted with all the usual protection: bullet proof, bomb proof, connected to the Sirani network.’ Maria laughed. ‘God, the only thing these cars don’t have are rockets that pop out of the doors,’ she joked.
‘We need to get driving lessons, pronto,’ Eduardo said, caressing the roof of the black one.
‘We do,’ Sofia said, as she opened the door to the blue one. ‘I loved driving Domenico’s car at home.’ After popping her head in and inspecting the interior, she closed the door. It effortlessly slammed shut with all the extra weight it was carrying. ‘Okay, it's ten to seven and the traffic's going to be heavy. Hopefully we'll get to the palace by half seven.’
Michael jumped into the front passenger seat of the black Rolls with Maria. Marcel jumped into the blue one with Sofia.
‘Carolina, you come in the white one with Ahmad and me. We're meeting Guillermo at the entrance,’ Scarlett said, jumping in beside Ahmad. ‘The rest of you,’ She looked at Mohammad, Ajit and Eduardo. ’You fly with Alban. If anything kicks off, you get there immediately.’
‘Okay, we'll see you at the palace. Stick together on the roads,’ Marcel said.
‘Hold on. Where's Enrique?’ Maria shouted. ‘He said he'd meet us here.’ Her eyes darted around the farmland. Her body seized up. Everyone went quiet.
As he got out of the car, Michael knew their first hurdle in Spain had arrived. Maria tried calling him, cradling the phone on her shoulder, her eyes scanning the area. ‘No answer, it’s not even connecting the call.’
‘Ajit, have you given out SIM cards for them to connect to our network?’ Michael said. Ajit just nodded his head.
‘We gotta go,’ Carolina said. ‘We can’t be late. Especially if Guillermo is waiting for us.’
‘He’s not being tracked. L'amico is not tracking Enrique's phone!’ Ajit shouted from the chopper, staring at the laptop screen. He handed the computer to Eduardo to have a look. He scratched his head in confusion.
Eduardo took a photo of the software display and sent it to everyone’s phone. ‘It's true, have a look. Where the hell is he then?’
Michael looked at the image. On the right side of the screen was a list of names: everyone who had a device and was synched to the Sirani network. All the names were highlighted in green to display the person was connected, but Enrique wasn't. On Sirani Maps, each device was showing on a green dot, but Enrique's name was just a dull colour of r
ed.
‘God, Enrique,’ Maria said. She tried to phone him again. No answer. ‘What the hell has happened?’ She ran her fingers through her hair, frantically scratching her temples as if trying to shake an answer out.
‘This is strange,’ Ajit said. ‘How did this happen? If it’s not being detected, then it must have been broken. I don't like this.’
‘Right, we gotta go,’ Michael said, feeling the stress flowing through his veins. ‘Maria, let’s go, we'll find him. Alban, leave the chopper here and drive us. Ajit, you come with us. Mohammad, you travel with Marcel and Sofia. Eduardo, you go in the other car with Carolina and Ahmad. We haven’t time to hang around.’ He gripped Maria by the hand. ‘Don't worry, we'll find him.’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket. ‘Hope Guillermo's ready.’
‘We’re tracking Guillermo,’ Ajit shouted, as he jumped into the front of the Rolls. ‘And according to Sirani Maps, he’s moving in the direction of the palace.’
Michael jumped in, directly behind Alban who was in the driver's seat, with Ringo and Ahmad following in the other two cars. He looked at his new watch – black leather strap watch with the Sirani logo gleaming in shiny metal on the face of it. That image, the logo was like the Casio watch that Michael wore the day he was beaten up and almost lost his life. He seen it as a symbolic reminder, perhaps a kick in the backside to motivate him to get done what needed to be done. He looked at the expression on the face of Maria and saw something different. He grabbed her hand and spoke in Spanish. ‘Everything will be okay. We'll find him.’
Chapter Thirteen
DURING THE DRIVE, WORDS weren’t spoken. Alban flicked through the radio stations to find some decent music. Alban was like Ringo in more than one way. He wasn't just a petrol head who was happiest behind the wheel of something, but he also loved music and he wasn’t happy until he found something good. That came when Standing in the Hall of Fame by Irish band The Script came on. He smiled at Michael in the rear-view mirror.
‘This band is really good.’ He whacked the volume up. ‘This one is my favourite.’ He laughed, putting on his sunglasses to keep the evening sun out of his eyes.
Maria continued to bite her nails, staring at her phone as if willing a message from her brother to come through.
Michael discreetly watched her through his side eye. What he'd witnessed from Ahmad in England, and his own turmoil when his father was taken in France, he knew the worry of a family member in danger can somewhat cloud a person's judgement. He needed to ensure Maria was going into the palace in the right frame of mind. Spain was her country. Michael and the rest would need local agents to help spot potentially dangerous people. He gently took her hand again. ‘He'll be okay. Are you sure you want to come to the party?’
‘Yes, I can be professional, Michael. Sirani agents, know the risks that we take every day.’ She looked at him and spoke in Spanish.
Michael felt her squeezed his hand. He looked into her mahogany eyes and smiled. He looked up as Ringo alerted them they were just outside the grounds to the palace.
Driving up the Avenue Puerta de Hierro motorway, Michael looked out the right side of the Rolls. While watching the silver spear-top railings dance past at eighty kilometres per hour, through them he could see the rear of the palace in all its glory. Built in the seventeenth century, shortly after the then royal family purchased the fragment from Pietro Mancini. The palace was destroyed during the Spanish Civil War, only to be re-constructed during the 1950's. Home to Spanish elite since the late 1970s.
Seven thirty-five on the clock and they pulled up to the guarded entrance behind a queue of idling vehicles. Guards everywhere. The atmosphere was palpable. Swarms of people, not only in cars, but also on foot. The smell of barbequed chicken wafted in the air from a nearby burger van. The good news was that everyone was dressed in the same style clothing. Masks were being worn by everyone. Eventually, they got through the gates of the tree lined grounds and continued up the mile-long road that was shaded by the trees. Driving past the neighbouring Ministry of Presidency – part of La Moncloa Complex – they were now at the heart of the Spanish government.
‘Are you all ready to go to the ball?’ Alban turned and clapped hands with Michael. ‘Go get them, bro.’ He spoke in broken English.
Michael tapped Alban, then Ajit on the shoulder. ‘Are you ready?’ He looked at Maria. ‘Let’s go dine with some Fomorians.’ He forced a laugh over the top of his nerves. ‘See you pair later, stay close.’
‘We're with you,’ Ajit said. ‘Don't forget your invitation. And here.’ He handed Michael earpieces. ‘I want to listen to the show, so keep it entertaining.’
‘Invitation’s here.’ Michael tugged on his suit jacket. He stepped out and walked around the car. Opening Maria's door, he smiled, putting on a brave face as he locked eyes with her. ‘Let's go, my beautiful Spanish lady.’ He put his hand out to help her out of the car.
Maria stepped out, slamming the door shut as she linked arms with Michael. She stood one inch taller than him with her heels on. She kissed him on the cheek and as she did so, she whispered in his ear. ‘Your mask, my handsome young Irishman.’
‘Shit.’ Michael's hand jumped into his jacket pocket and whipped out his mask. He put it on, smiling at her.
‘Better looking now that we’ve covered up that hideous face!’ Mohammad shouted from the other car. ‘Have we got another one for Ajit?’
‘Whatever, asshole!’ Ajit shouted out the window.
Sofia, Marcel, and Carolina joined Michael and Maria. Michael gave out earpieces to everyone.
‘There's your date, Carolina,’ Marcel joked. ‘At least you weren’t stood up.’
‘Whatever, pretty boy,’ she said.
Marcel cleared his throat and didn’t reply.
‘Maria, don’t worry,’ Sofia said. ‘We'll find Enrique. Tonight’s going to be easy. Tomorrow we'll be back on the Irish coast again, with the Spanish fragment. The Spanish president will be relieved of his command. The dark gods want to mess around and play games, we’ll show them.’
‘Sofia, you’re really hot right now!’ Eduardo came through their earpieces.
‘Shut up, Eduardo and focus.’ Ajit complained. ‘And you guys, less standing around, what are you waiting for?’
‘I need to tie my laces,’ Michael joked. ‘We can’t all go in together.’ He crouched down, untying his laces and making work out of tying them, giving the others a chance to get ahead. He stood up, looked back and watched as their transportation left. ‘Ajit, is L'amico working? And can you hear us okay?’
‘We can hear you.’ Ajit confirmed.
‘Mohammad, I hear you, too!’ Ahmad came through.
Ringo shouted, ‘I’m here if you need to split in a hurry.’
Michael looked at Maria and smiled.
‘Okay, we're through security, we're in,’ Sofia said.
‘Michael, make sure you have your invitation,’ Marcel said. ‘I saw one of them wearing the Mancini mark. I wanted to knock him out, but-’
‘You're not that stupid,’ Carolina finished. ‘I’m through as well, Michael. See you both in a minute.’
Michael looked at Maria. She was glaring at the guards, if he couldn’t read her mind, he could certainly read her eyes, she was like a bull to a red flag. ‘Easy tiger, I know you probably want to rip them limb from limb, but let’s see if Enrique's in there first.’ He laughed. ‘You ready to go? I’ll be your guard.’
‘I've got your identification here, Hugo!’ Maria laughed as if she knew what Michael's reaction to his cover name would be.
‘Hugo?’
‘Don’t blame us.’ Scarlett laughed through the earpiece. ‘George was the one who picked them.’
Maria handed Michael his Close Protection Security licence. As they approached the door to the palace, two women and one man were behind them. Maria reached over to give Michael a flirtatious kiss, while whispering in his ear. ‘The tall one, he's definitely Mancini. He’s one of their
henchmen.’
‘Don't be knocking him out, chief,’ Mohammad came through Michael's ear.
‘I’m just a journalist here to capture a story about the apparent precious stone that’s been found,’ Maria said. ‘Let’s go.’ She grabbed Michael's hand.
Michael felt his face sweat behind the mask, hopeful he wouldn't be asked to remove it. His heart pounded against his chest. He could hear the pulse throb in his ear, sounding as if someone was tapping on the earpiece from the other end.
‘Hola,’ Maria said.
‘Hola,’ the guard responded. ‘Who is this?’ The tall guard that wore the Mancini mark stared at Michael. He looked like Marcel, only a few inches taller, jet black hair and hands like shovels. He spoke Spanish with a local accent.
Michael began to act dumb, laughing. He spoke in Russian and was able to put on a convincing Russian accent. ‘Hugo!’ He pointed at himself, handing the id to the guard. He thought if he had to, he would put the agent to sleep, but that would just cause an unnecessary issue. He didn’t want things to kick off until the president was in sight. He wasn’t sure if these Mancini agents could smell Sirani blood, or if they were just going to turn into raging Fomorians; it was hard to guess what was going to happen, and that’s what was causing the most stress.
Maria looked at Michael and spoke in Spanish. ‘There's a problem. This guy's not Spanish. He speaks a few basic words, but he'll not hold down a conversation.’ She explained to the guard, ‘He’s here to help me with my story. He speaks Russian. If you can speak Russian, he’s happy to chat with you?’
The guard looked taken aback. ‘I don’t speak Russian, I speak English too. It’s fine, go on in.’ He looked eager to move them along. Beads of Sweat ran down his cheeks. He looked into Michael's eyes as if meeting an old friend, a look like he recognised those piercing blue eyes.
‘Is Mancini Corporation here tonight?’ Michael switched to English as he addressed the agent. ‘If they’re here, then I’d like to speak to Rodriquez.’#