by Paul Heron
Michael’s phone vibrated. It was a message from Lorenzo: Michael, we're on our way now. See you on the roof. Ditch the cars! Road blocks are being set up around the city. Police and army are on their way. Get the hell outta there!!
‘Christ! The police and army are on their way,’ Michael shouted, repeatedly pressing the button to call the lift down. He touched his earpiece. ‘The army? George, where are you? Have you heard from Lorenzo?’
‘Ringo and I are following you in now. I've got the fragment. Get the rest now, Michael. Move your ass. We’re not equipped to take on the military today!’
‘This is insane!’ Marcel shouted, hearing the same thing the rest were hearing through their earpieces. He was first to step into the lift. ‘George, hurry up then.’
‘I'm tracking you with the app. We’re about one minute behind you.’
After a nail biting thirty seconds, the lift stopped at the floor of the president's office. Stepping out of the lift, repeated bangs rang out from the direction of Perez’s office. The motion censored lights lit up the corridor.
Michael led the way, Marcel followed with Angelina and Scarlett watching from outside the lift in case they were followed. The sound of someone shouting was followed by two gun shots.
‘Screw this.’ Michael pulled his pistol out and sprinted down the corridor. Distraught hums came from the inside, failed attempts to scream out from behind mouth gags. Michael pressed his ear up against the door. He looked at Marcel who was doing the same. Michael looked into the eyes of Marcel and could see torment in them, as if he felt angry and helpless at the same time.
‘It’s stupid to just barge in there,’ Marcel whispered. ‘Bullets will fly.’ A roar of angry screams came from inside the room. Rodriquez demanding answers. Both Michael and Marcel turned when hearing George through their ear pieces. George and Ringo stood at the emergency exit adjacent to the lift. George was waving for them to come back.
Michael and Marcel both went back.
Arriving at the emergency exit, they could see George gasp for air. Running wasn’t his thing.
‘George, what are you thinking of doing,’ Michael asked, standing out in the stairway.
‘We bust in there, people will die.’ George looked around the group, wiping sweat from his forehead. Angelina looked like she wasn’t ready to be diplomatic.
‘I’m not in the mood to be nice, George,’ Angelina said.
‘With all due respect, Angelina-,’ for the first time, George displayed his usually contained anger. ‘Those are my guys in there. I'm taking over from here.’
Angelina looked at Michael and Marcel. Nodding her head in agreement. She said, ‘of course, George.’
‘I want to bust their heads too, Angelina,’ Scarlett said. ‘What do you suggest George?’
‘We cause a distraction. Alban’s about to land on the roof. We draw Mancini agents out of the office.’ George looked at Scarlett. ‘You and Angelina wait here at the fire escape. When agents chase me through here, you two can either fill them with lead, or Fomorian metal.’ He looked at Michael and Marcel, putting his left hand on Michael's shoulder and his right on Marcel's. ‘You two, go in there and get the rest of your team, be under no illusions, you’ll likely need your guns, so have them in your hands going in there. Ringo, you take these stairs, watch the emergency exit. Make sure there aren't any nasty surprises waiting for us up there.’
Ringo left the group. George shouted for him to stop and tossed him his pistol. ‘See you all soon,’ Ringo said, as he scaled the stairs two at a time.
Scarlett and Angelina took their positions behind the evacuation door. George, Michael and Marcel made their way down to the president's office.
Approaching the door, George stopped both Michael and Marcel. ‘The moment I knock the door, they'll check CCTV. The president has monitors on his desk. That camera up there...’ He pointed to the ceiling above the door. ‘...will alert whoever's in the room I'm here. On my own.’ He pushed both Michael and Marcel back towards the wall, directly under the camera. ‘When someone answers the door to come out, you two go in. I’ll slip a note under the door.’
George pulled out a tiny note pad from his inner jacket pocket. He scribbled something down on it and knocked the door. Slipping the note under the door, he waited a few seconds before turning and walking towards the evacuation door. Not looking at Michael and Marcel as he did so but whispered. ‘Be ready.’
Marcel looked at Michael. ‘Us again, amigo. Remember the jungle?’
Michael looked at him, grinning. ‘I'll never forget the jungle, amigo!’ He looked up at the tiny black camera, watching it as if it was a ticking time bomb.
The slip that George placed under the door got pulled through. The door opened, and the president stepped out. Michael pointed his black Beretta with his left hand and signalled with his right index finger on his lips for Perez not to say a word.
The president's jaw dropped, his eyes widened. Frozen on the spot, he shouted back into the office in Spanish, ‘we have company,’ then came the voice of Diego Rodriquez, getting louder as he got close to the door.
He shouted for his two guards inside the room to get after whoever it was. The two agents were that thick, they didn't even spot Michael and Marcel who were still acting like statues, lined against the wall. The agents sprinted out of the office, down the corridor towards the evacuation stairway, their fate was now at the mercy of Angelina and Scarlett. George had performed a distraction to perfection.
Of course, when Michael and Marcel entered the room, Rodriquez knew exactly who they were. Michael closed the door and locked it, trying to stay calm, whereas Marcel ran to the six who’d had their heads covered with black pillow cases. He removed all the pillow cases but couldn't go any further as they'd been handcuffed to the metal framed office chairs. Marcel had the strength to break them free, but not without injuring his friends bound to them.
‘Well done, Michael. You outsmarted me. Or us, I should say. Mancini Corporation is very embarrassed.’ Rodriquez took off his glasses, shaking his head while wiping his eyes with the knuckles of his fist. He looked at the ground, laughing. Not appearing in the slightest upset. This made Michael worry.
‘Where's the key to their handcuffs?’ Marcel shouted, approaching Rodriquez who quickly reached inside his suit jacket. Pulling out a Dessert Eagle he pointed it at Marcel. ‘Remember what I said the last time, Marcel? I can’t shoot our Irish friend, but I can-'
Before he finished, Marcel swung a lightning fast roundhouse kick, sending the pistol through the office window. Michael watched in awe. He’d never seen Marcel move so fast. Rodriquez hadn’t a split second to react. Marcel grabbed him by the scruff. Rodriquez head-butt Marcel on the nose. The Brazilian’s nose bone snapped, splattering blood all over his face. Rodriquez tried to punch Marcel, but Marcel caught the Spaniard’s fist. He spread open Rodriquez’s fingers, snapping his index and middle fingers as if splitting a wishbone. Rodriquez groaned into himself but was surprisingly quiet about just having his bones snapped. He dropped to one knee, looking down at the ground, as if he was bowing to his master.
Marcel looked at Michael. ‘Feels like he’s bowing to me.’
‘I’m not bowing to you. I’m bowing welcome the master.’
‘You mean the Dark One?’ Michael said. ‘He’s not here.’
Rodriquez grunted. ‘He’s always here. You just don’t realise it.’ He looked at his hand, and made a fist with it, as if it hadn’t been broken. He looked up at Marcel, smirking. ‘You can’t hurt me with your human hands.’ He stood up, six inches taller than he was before he went down. His face changed, as if by magic, the old Rodriquez had died and changed into someone else.
Marcel looked at Michael. ‘Tell me you seen that too?’
Michael just nodded his head. ‘Marcel, get away from him.’
As Michael spoke, Rodriquez grabbed Marcel and threw him across the room, straight into Michael. The two of them hit the ground like bowl
ing pins.
Michael and Marcel both jumped back to their feet. Marcel looked at Michael and smirked. Both went for Rodriquez.
‘Why waste your time?’ Rodriquez said. ‘Humans are the weaker race, we come back to this world and...’
‘Who ever said we were only human?’ Michael held his hand out in front of himself, a pen from the office table flew into his hand. He gripped the pen, then opened his hand, revealing a shiny dagger.
‘Nice trick.’ Rodriquez spoke sarcastically.
‘Here, Marcel, I’ll let you.’
Marcel grabbed the dagger and launched it at Rodriquez’s head, catching him right between the eyes. He fell backwards, crashing into the ground, his body going into spasm as if taking a fit. His skin started to bubble, then melt into the ground, leaving nothing but his clothes.
‘So it’s not only fireballs you can pull out of your ass now?’ Marcel said, looking at Michael.
Someone knocked the office door. An attempt to open the door was followed by two gun shots: one blowing out the upper hinge and the same into the lower. Michael pulled his gun out and stood against the wall as the door fell inwards. The two agents ran into the office over the top of the door.
Michael was growing tired of pussy footing around. He shot both agents in the legs. They fell to the ground, making more noise than Rodriquez had. Michael didn’t even feel bad. He just didn't feel remorse anymore. ‘The key, for their handcuffs. Now. Or you’ll be next to follow Rodriquez to the Otherworld.’ He pointed the pistol at one of the agents.
‘I have the key,’ the president shouted from under his desk. He crawled out. He stood up, and shuffled through his desk's top drawer, throwing a bunch of keys to Marcel. Just as Marcel began freeing the group, Sofia was humming frantically.
Perez started to laugh, casually sitting on the edge of his desk. He looked at the group of captives. ‘He’s quite the hero.’ He nodded towards Michael. ‘I knew he was smart.’
‘Less of the flattery,’ Michael said, wondering what Sofia was in such a fit for. He removed the tape from around her mouth as Marcel removed her cuffs. ‘It's a trap, Michael. They wanted you to come for us,’ she shouted jumping from her seat.
‘Sofia!’ Angelina shouted, as she stormed into the room, Scarlett in tow. ‘Are you okay?’ She ran up to the president, her pistol pointed right at his head. ‘Signor Perez, it’s a pleasure to meet You!’ She pressed the end of the barrel against his forehead.
‘It’s a trap. Spanish police and army are on their way,’ Sofia shouted. ‘Where’s Alban?’ As soon as she said this, the sound of the Black Hawk’s propellers chopping through the air sent an eruption of excitement through the room.
‘Let's go. Everybody move,’ Michael shouted. ‘Go out that door, it leads to the roof.’ He hugged Carolina, then Mohammad, Ajit, then Eduardo.’
‘Good seeing you, amigo!’ Eduardo hugged Michael.
‘Nobody is going anywhere.’ A Spanish accent in broken English entered the room, belonging to one of three Spanish police officers.
‘Do we have any luck?’ Marcel shouted, Carolina still clinging to him.
Michael began to feel desperate. ‘President, tell them, we're the good guys!’ Michael looked at the president who was sat at his desk. His head cupped in his hands as if he wished he could just disappear. ‘President?’ Michael repeated, this time with more force as one of the police officers grabbed his wrists.
‘You're all under arrest,’ one of the other officers said, as he tossed each of the group a pair set handcuffs and ordered them to fasten them to their wrists. They were all at gun point so nobody was in the position to disagree with them.
Michael knew the second they all had handcuffs on, it was over. He looked at Marcel. Marcel was looking back at Michael. Michael felt like crying with frustration. Marcel smiled at him.
Michael bit his lip and said, ‘who's up for rotting in a Spanish prison?’
‘Not me,’ Sofia said in Irish and as if they all knew what each other was thinking, Michael turned and head-butt the cop, and as if simultaneously Marcel and Carolina both dropped their cuffs, kicking them straight at two other officers with so much speed and force that the cuffs split open their faces, sending them to the ground.
Before anyone else had a chance to think, Angelina had shot two of the officers in the legs. ‘Go!’ She shouted.
‘Not so fast!’
Michael turned and saw Scarlett with her hands in the air. A tall, athletically built man in a cream suit with a pink shirt had a machine gun pressed against her back. He looked directly at Michael. His slick black hair and clean-shaven face said he was not someone who was usually involved in much physical confrontations, but more like someone who ordered people from behind a desk. This led Michael to wonder who the hell he was.
‘You can come quietly, Michael and I’ll let the rest go.’ He spoke with an Italian accent. He was very smug; arrogance was something he emulated very well. He looked at Angelina and blew her a kiss. ‘When I heard the beautiful Angelina Sirani was spotted in Madrid, I knew I'd have to personally come and-’ Before he could say another word, someone dressed in a bull costume staggered into the office, slurring words in an attempt to sing a song. The voice was a man’s. He tried to dance for them, wondering why they all looked so serious. He staggered over to Carolina, trying to hug her. She pushed him. He stumbled back, falling into Mohammad. Mohammad pushed him in the direction of Scarlett. He stumbled and fell into Scarlett, pushing her out of the way. He grabbed the machine gun that was pressed against Scarlett’s back. His hands were lightning fast, and without even knowing what happened the man in the cream suit was on his back with his own gun just a few inches away from his face.
The person in the bull costume shouted for them all to get moving. The accent was American.
‘Leeroy?’ Scarlett asked.
The person removed the bull costume, and it was in fact, Leeroy. The American who'd helped them in France. As Leeroy turned to show his face to the team, the man on the ground knifed Leeroy in the leg. The American went down. Michael grabbed his pistol from the ground and shot the man three times just as he was about to carve something into Leeroy.
‘Everyone, go. Now!’ Angelina shouted. ‘Michael, Marcel – you two grab Leeroy and carry him.’
Michael tossed his gun to Sofia, Marcel helping him carry Leeroy out of the office. He limped up the flight of emergency stairs.
Feeling the cool air as they got to the roof signalled their potential escape and freedom.
‘I liked your costume, Leeroy.’ Michael laughed, as they made their way to the chopper.
The sound of police sirens polluted Madrid’s night air. As they all got into the chopper, red and blue lights flashed off everything in the grounds of the palace.
‘Alban, get us out of here!’ Scarlett shouted.
The chopper took off. Michael and Marcel were beside Scarlett, the three of them overwhelmed with gratitude that they'd got the rest of the group back. George handed Michael the black container which they used to house the fragment.
‘Is everyone okay?’ Marcel looked at the captives individually. ‘I was worried. We wouldn't have been the same without the rest of you.’
‘We're okay,’ Eduardo groaned, sounding as if he was just awake. ‘They didn’t hurt us, it’s strange.’ He cleared his throat.
‘What do you mean?’ Michael asked. ‘Strange how?’
‘Mancini Corporation seems scared. It’s doing all this out of fear.’
‘The Mancini agents are little robots for the Mancini family,’ Angelina spat, sounding hateful. ‘Their family is cursed, plagued by the Fomorian race, being led by the God of Greed and the Dark One.’
‘Who was that guy who stabbed Leeroy?’ Michael asked, checking on Leeroy's wound.
‘That was Gabrielle Mancini,’ Angelina said.
‘What? Gabrielle Mancini was there?’ Lorenzo shouted at Angelina, sounding pissed off. ‘And you didn’t butcher him?’ He
shouted in Italian.
‘Michael did,’ Angelina said.
‘He took a big risk coming here!’ Lorenzo said.
‘Their judgment is clouded,’ George said. ‘But this has just gotten a little worse, guys!’ George glared at his phone. ‘I’ve just received a text from Dominico Cipolla.’ He cleared his throat, forwarding the text to everyone's mobile. They all read the text themselves.
Carolina looked at it. ‘You're joking, right?’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
GEORGE, I’M SORRY TO bring this to you at this time, especially with what's going on in Spain. However, needs must. Things have taken a slight turn for worse. I’m calling an emergency meeting with Sirani Foundation's country directors from around the world. The meeting will be at our German headquarters. Get yourselves to Berlin, now.
We've received intelligence that the world leaders are now in possession of their country's fragment. We're not certain what this means. I’m hoping Michael can talk to Elisabetta. However, with the fragments in the hands of the world leaders, if they’ve truly all gone over to the dark side, then the Dark One is, I’m sure, positive his Fomorian army will grow, and Elisabetta and the Tuatha de Danann will soon be too weak and outnumbered. But, we'll know more if somehow Michael can communicate with the Otherworld. He is our only hope, George. I’m sorry.
Michael read the text, and just like everyone else, sat there in shock. Mancini Corporation had outsmarted them again. And in doing so, will have passed the powers of that cave on to the world leaders. What began as something that could happen, which the Sirani Foundation was working to prevent, had become their reality.
Carolina looked as if she was about to cry. ‘I knew I had a bad feeling about this country!’ She began to hyperventilate.
‘How much time do we have?’ Marcel said overly calm, staring at the ground as if coaching himself to come to terms with his future, like a death row inmate trying to accept their fate.
‘I don't know, Marcel.’ George scratched his head as if a solution would fall out.