Simon Eady

by Adrian Monico

CHAPTER 3 – Searching Shadows

  Simon wished his mother was there with him. Treviso was just as picturesque as they had imagined. The ancient castle walls surrounded the old city centre, whilst the river Sile and the torrent Botteniga lazily meandered through the city. Simon called all the accommodation listings in the local paper given to him by Franco and was fortunate to find that the first advertised place still had a vacant room for rent and was situated in the centre of the oldest part of Treviso.

  That first day he also managed to purchase an Italian scooter called a ‘Vespa, a detailed map of Treviso, and some clothes to help him blend in with the local youth. In spite of what could have been conceived as a fruitful day, Simon still felt he had wasted precious time.

  That evening he felt exhausted. The time difference between Italy and Malaysia, and the events of the past few days had been draining. However, not appearing to be impolite, he accepted the host family’s invitation to dinner.

  The family consisted of Luigi, a local pharmacist in his late fifties. Luigi was the same height as Simon. He had a full head of wavy brown hair that was slowly turning grey. His preference for formal attire, including vest and tie, and round turtle-shell glasses was his signature amongst the local community. Luigi had settled into a family lifestyle after a youth filled with adventures whilst travelling to remote parts of the world. He had an uncanny knowledge about little known cultures. His wife Franca, also in her fifties, had shoulder length black hair, deep brown eyes, and a willowy slim build. Franca had a quiet, warm nature and reminded Simon of his mother. Beppe, Luigi’s father, was in his seventies. Beppe, despite being a man of few words often followed by a soft grunt, seemed to have an unlimited amount of energy stored within him. Despite his slow mannerism, he moved around the house quickly and effortlessly. His fast stride and fluid movements made Simon wondered if he went to a gym in order to keep fit. Despite his fit physique, Beppe’s face was considerably wrinkled from a long life spent probably being battered by unforgiving weather conditions.

  Beppe and his family had lived in the beautiful old house for generations. The house was always passed down from father to oldest son. Simon wondered what it would be like to live in the same place all of your life.

  No sooner had Simon sat down that he found himself answering a barrage of questions: about his family, what he studied at school, where he learnt to speak Italian, what food he did or did not like, if he played football, whether he liked Italian girls, and what he thought about Luigi’s wine! Simon answered as truthfully as possible, being careful not to give out too much information.

  That night, either comforted by a home cooked meal, or by the atmosphere of the house, he managed to get the first good sleep since he found out about his mother’s illness. The next morning Simon awoke still feeling a sense of peace.

  In his dream-like state he imagined that his mother would soon come in and tell him to get ready for school, so he lay there enjoying a few more minutes of rest. After a while, somewhere in the back of his mind he felt that it was getting late, so he glanced at his wristwatch. He immediately sprang out of his bed, only to be confronted by an unexpected sight. Instead of seeing the familiar bamboo furniture of his bedroom in Malaysia, he found himself staring at beautifully aged antiques. His bed was twice the size and had two side tables. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling instead of a ceiling fan, and instead of his desk there was a huge dark brown oak wardrobe. Between the bed and the window was a small wooden table with a glass top. His eyes rested on the table where a familiar bag, with a map and several pieces of clothing could be seen. Simon felt a rush of emotions. The events that had occurred in the past few days flooded back to him. Unable to hold back the rush of sadness, tears started streaming down his face. He had not cried since he was a small child, as he had always had to be strong.

  Overcome by grief, he was unable to move. Tears kept streaming down his face as he kept staring at the items on the table. Then, barely visible, Simon noticed on the top of his bag the book that his father had sent. Instantly, just as quickly as sadness had set in, a sense of purpose took over. Simon’s mind instinctively focussed on the activities to be carried out that day.

  He grabbed a towel and ran to the bathroom at the end of the corridor where, whilst in the shower established a plan for the day.

  Within 15 minutes, Simon had managed to shower, brush his teeth, send a quick message to Inspector Lau, get dressed, and pack the items he needed for the day and head downstairs. He had a plan and he had no time to waste.

  Once at the bottom of the stairs, he moved to the front door and was about to open it, when he heard Franca calling out from the kitchen.

  “Simon, ho preparato la colezione per te!” (Simon, I have prepared breakfast for you)”

  For a second he contemplated if he should decline the invitation or maybe use the time to ask a few questions about Treviso.

  Simon’s plan for the day was to visit every advertised accommodation in the area and enquire about a family member that he was supposed to meet. Hopefully, his dad would be staying at one of the locations marked on his map. If his shortlist of locations proved to be fruitless, at least the visits to the various hotels would allow him to become more familiar with the area.

  “Grazie Franca sono affamato” (Thank you Franca. I’m famished!) replied Simon

  In the kitchen Simon found that the table was completely covered by several cereal boxes, mini toast usually used on cheese platters, ham, salami, fruit, a loaf of bread, cheese, milk, a café’ latte, a block of butter, and several jars of jam.

  “Non sapevo cosa mangiate in Australia. Questa mi son alzata e ho guardato sul’internet. Dopo sono andata a comprare le cose che non avevo,” (I didn’t know what you eat in Australia, so this morning I looked it up on the internet and then I went shopping and bought what I didn’t already have) said Franca looking somewhat guilty.

  Simon was amazed that his hostess had taken so much trouble for his breakfast. Feeling guilty for all the effort she made, he ate a little of everything. He guessed that if he had a big breakfast he wouldn’t have to stop for lunch, therefore have more time to look for his dad.

  Beppe was sitting at the table ignoring Simon and inspecting all the food.

  “Sai Simon, l’unica cosa che non capisco e’il perche’ mangiate questi piccoli pezzi di pane quadrati invece di un panino”, (You know Simon, the only thing I don’t understand is why Australian’s eat these little square pieces of bread, instead of a bread roll), stated Beppe looking bemused. Simon looked down at the mini toasts and considered the question. He suddenly burst out laughing. Obviously in these parts toasting sliced bread was not that common. Franca was in another room when Simon explained this to Beppe who also spontaneously, for a second, started laughing but immediately disguised it with a few deep throat-clearing coughs.

  “Simon, se non hai dei piani, papa’ piaccerebbe farti guida per il giorno. Pero’ prima ha un appuntamento all’ospedale,” (Simon, if you have no plans for today, my father-in-law would like to show you around, but first he has an appointment in the hospital) said Franca, once she stopped laughing.

  The idea of having Beppe as a guide for the day certainly had its advantages, but unfortunately hospital waiting rooms often took hours before being attended to. Simon was about to decline when it suddenly occurred to him that his father was a nurse. Furthermore, Beppe did not seem impressed with the idea.

  “Franca, mi farebbe piacere,” (Franca, I would love you to), replied Simon honestly whilst offering a smile to Beppe.

  Simon gave Beppe a lift to the hospital on the back of his Vespa.

  Once in the waiting room, he excused himself stating that he wanted to walk off his large breakfast. He wondered around the hospital trying to see if he could recognise someone that might resemble his dad from an old photo.

  Some time later Simon found himself back in the waiting room. Feeling somewhat defeated, he decided his next move was to spend s
ome time looking up for other hotels in the local phone book. Beppe and Simon waited patiently, both deep in their own thoughts. Simon instinctively looked up, every time a male wearing a uniform entered the waiting room.

  Finally, after the long wait, Beppe was called into the examination room. Simon had barely enough time to open a magazine, that Beppe reappeared with a relaxed, almost relieved, expression.

  “Tutto bene,” (Everything is fine) stated Beppe as a response to Simon’s inquisitive stare..

  Simon once again felt he had wasted precious time, and was afraid Beppe would cause him to lose even more. Once at the Scooter, Simon turned to Beppe and apologetically asked if it would be all right if he spent the day by himself “getting lost” around the city.

  Beppe smiled and agreed that getting lost was the best way to learn one’s way, but first he invited Simon to share an espresso with him.

  As Beppe was always cautious of the guests staying at his house, he thought that sharing an espresso would provide him with an opportunity to learn a bit more about the Australian teenager.

  He took Simon to a coffee shop located on Vicolo Broli; a tiny street that could easily be missed by anyone not familiar with the area.

  “Buon giorno professore!” (Good morning professor!) Beppe called out to the man behind the beautiful silver and gold chrome coffee machine.

  “Buon giorno dottore!” (Good morning doctor!) replied the man.

  After sitting down, Simon perplexed asked why a professor would be working in a coffee shop?

  Beppe, taken by surprise by the question, broke out in a loud laughter. He explained that in Italy, men often refer to each other as ‘professors’, ‘doctors’, and ‘engineers’, it was a sign of respect.

  Soon after a waitress bought two short black coffees. “In Italy we drink milk with coffee first thing in the morning, after that we only drink espresso!” Beppe said in Italian reading Simon’s puzzled expression. Simon found the idea that Italians only have coffee with milk in the morning intriguing. He thought that this information could come in handy if he wanted to pass as a local.

  “Simon, I am 73 years old and I have had a great, great life”, said Beppe in English with only a slight Italian accent.

  “You speak English! But, why didn’t you…” Simon started saying.

  “…say anything before?” continued indulgently Beppe. “Young man, you are obviously wanting to improve your Italian. I’m simply making it easier for you.”

  “So why do you speak English now?” asked Simon worriedly about the deceit.

  “First of all, I miss speaking English. Secondly, I wanted to speak to you in your own language, because I don’t want any misunderstanding,” continued Beppe looking intently at Simon.

  “Simon, I don’t think you are on a holiday. I think you are looking for someone, and maybe that someone is your father?” Beppe paused allowing Simon time to think.

  “If this is true and you want help, I am now giving you an opportunity to be honest with me. If this is not the case and you are hiding from someone, then I will help you find alternative accommodation, as I don’t want your problems to find their way into my home.”

  Simon, startled by the unexpected inquisition, felt his mouth instantly dry out. “How did you know?” Simon asked faintly gazing intently at his hands.

  “Last night your answers about your mother were quick and full of colourful details. To the contrary, you took your time to answer questions about your father, and often they were very vague. Also, you have the same maturity of children who have been raised in a broken family. This morning you spent your time at the hospital staring at every nurse and doctor, as if you were expecting to recognise one of them.”

  Simon’s sense of defeat was increasing rapidly. His initial instinct was to deny everything; he felt trapped and unable to escape. For a few seconds he contemplated if it would be best to simply deny everything and find alternative accommodation. However, Treviso being a small city, he imagined that Beppe would know most of the locals, and the last thing he needed was for gossip to get in the way.

  “E chi e’ questo bel giovanotto?” (And who is this nice looking boy?) asked the ‘Professor’ now standing between Beppe and Simon.

  Simon looked up startled.

  “Questone’ Simon. Il nipote di mia sorella. E’ venuto a visitarmi dall’Australia.” (This is Simon, my sister’s grandson. He has come to visit me from Australia),

  “ Piaccere Simon” (Nice to meet you Simon) stated the barrista whilst offering a handshake.

  “Piaccere Professore,”(Nice to meet you Professore) replied Simon accepting the hand and shaking it firmly.

  With that the ‘Professor’ walked back to the counter.

  “Why did you say that I was your sister’s grandson?”

  “Because I feel that you are a young man with the problems of the world on your shoulders and, for reasons I do not understand, I feel that I should help you” replied Beppe whilst shaking his head.

  “My mum has only a month to live and asked me to come to Italy to find my dad, who I only know from a picture taken when I was young”, stated Simon looking back sadly

  “Does your papa’ want to be found?”

  “My father is not meant to be found.”

  “So he is hiding!” stated Beppe looking intently at Simon.

  “Yes!”

  “I see….. do you know who else wants to find your father?” asked Beppe.

  “I have met a man who I think is looking for him. I managed to get away without him knowing”, replied Simon eagerly.

  “And you think your papa’ could be hiding in a hospital?”

  “He worked as a nurse last time he lived with us.”

  “How are you planning to find him?”

  “I was thinking of searching every hotel, motel, pensione and apartment block in Treviso.”

  “And if he is not there?” asked Beppe curiously.

  “I will then have to search every ‘shadow’ in this city!” replied determinately Simon.

  “My young friend, looking in shadows will only find you darkness. I too was once hired to search shadows, but unfortunately all I found were dark spots!”

  Beppe, whilst staring into the depths of Simon’s eyes, suddenly felt an old familiar feeling. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, adrenalin rushed through his veins, and his heartbeat quickened.

  Within the next few moments of silence, Beppe without realising started daydreaming.

  He recalled the start of his career where as a teenager he smuggled weapons between the Austrian and Italian borders. Resulting from his success in avoiding border patrols, he then proceeded to setup an enterprise that saw him spending months at sea smuggling stolen weapons from Nice to Algeria. By the time he could legally drive a car, his gun running had grown to six boats and 12 employees. Unfortunately, the growth of his clandestine business also came within the attention of several interested parties: most of them competitors. Resulting from a botched attempt by his competitors to eliminate him, Beppe decided to walk away and invest his savings into another business. It didn’t take long before he found himself running a small exclusive and highly covert security consultancy company. In his new venture, Beppe was often hired to carry out corporate espionage raids, smuggling of high tech equipment between borders in order to avoid import taxes, and the assassination of competitors of his clients. It didn’t take too long for Beppe to learn that the most lucrative service was the latter. Until the age of 19, as Beppe was fully aware that no client would hire a child to carry out their sensitive work, he used a German lawyer as the front of his company. It was during these years that many NATO secret agencies started outsourcing their illegal work. Beppe’s company, already having an established professional reputation, quickly became the company of choice by many governments: particularly England. By the time Beppe reached 23, he had over 45 agents working exclusively for his company. By then, Beppe convinced his lawyer to
become a partner and the company CEO, thus allowing him to continuing satisfying his adrenalin addiction and undertaking risky missions. At the age of 26, the British government decided to source Beppe’s assistance in rebuilding their own spy network. Beppe, with the assistance of his CEO, established the British Secret Agents academy and employed all of his agents as consultant instructors. In addition to earning a commission from their agents’ work, now used as instructors, Beppe and his CEO also agreed to a 25 year contract where, in exchange for the closure of their company, the British government would pay each of them 1.5 million pounds per year. Shortly there after, the CEO retired and moved to a secluded tropical island where to this day he spends his time writing spy novels and sailing around local islands. Beppe, with the exception of undertaking the odd assignment for the British Government, instead opted to pursue his academic interests and become a pharmacist in Italy. Beppe also looked forward to spending more time with his wife and young children.

  “Simon, do you know if your father worked for the British government?” Beppe asked as he snapped out of his thoughts completely unaware what made him ask such a direct question.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so, ” Simon replied thoughtfully, wondering why Beppe had asked such an unlikely question.

  “Could it be? After all these years?” Beppe asked himself whilst studying every feature of Simon’s face.

  “Could what be?” asked Simon looking intently at Beppe.

  “Nothing! Just an old man talking to himself. Ok, let’s see if we can find your papa’! Tell me everything,” requested Beppe with a slight undertone of excitement.

  In Germany, a tall blonde man stood outside a NATO base speaking to one of the local ground crew about a recent flight from Malaysia. The blonde man wore an expensive pinstriped suit and a pair of well polished leather shoes. He seemed to be very pleased with the information. After a few minutes he handed over a one hundred Euro note and jumped back into the rented car and drove toward the Berlin airport.

  In England, the Prime Minister stood outside 10 Downing Street answering a barrage of questions from the media about one of the top MI6 spies who was recently killed. Amongst the questions another MI6 spy, disguised as a reporter, suddenly called out “Is it true that the spy was in fact agent ‘Shadow’?”

  Most reporters, hearing the codename and being aware of the legend, instantly went quiet and closely examined the Prime Minister’s expression, hoping to get the answer without needing to hear his response.

  “‘Shadow’? Boy I haven’t heard that codename since I was reading spy books at university!” replied the Prime Minister in accordance with the Top Secret brief received a few days earlier.

  “So, are you saying that there has never been a British spy codenamed ‘Shadow’?” asked the same fake reporter now having everyone’s attention.

  “Thank you all for your time. That is all I have to say about the matter”, replied the Prime Minister, before turning around and walking back into his current residency. Despite a barrage of questions about agent ‘Shadow’, the Prime Minister continued walking and ignored them all.

  As he entered the house, he looked at a man smiling back at him and stated: “I hate being part of your schemes Tim.”

  “For Queen and country sir!” replied the director of MI6 with a smile whilst annoyed for having been referred to by his first name. Outside of the Prime Minister, everyone referred to him as 'Beta'.

  “So, what else do you have in store for me?” asked the Prime Minister passing by 'Beta' and heading towards his office.

  “Sir, why would you think that I wanted any more assistance from you?” replied 'Beta'.

  “Tim how many years have I been in office?”

  “7 years, 10 months, and 6 days Sir” replied 'Beta', having read the Prime Minister’s dossier earlier that morning.

  “Of the 7 years, 10 months, and 2 days, how many days were you in your role?”

  Not wanting to correct the Prime Minister on the point of the 6 instead of 2 days, he simply replied “All of them Sir”.

  “And how many times have you come and visited me in person?” continued the Prime Minister.

  “Once when you first took office, once 4 years ago to warn you of a planned assassination attack against you, and 3 times this week.”

  “Three times to brief me on a statement that I have just made to help you with a cover-up story. Something you could have written a brief on and faxed to me”.

  “So ..” the Prime Minister had stopped walking and turned to face 'Beta', “what else have you in store for me?”

  “Sir, I need some black ‘ops’ funding to start a new school” replied 'Beta' with a grin.

  “A school for what?” asked the Prime Minister now getting a tad annoyed with this questions and answers game.

  “Sir, I know you are only too aware of the recent failures that we have been experiencing with our spies. We believe that this is mainly caused by the fact that MI6 spy candidates are now-a-days too influenced by modern society morals” stated 'Beta', now aware that the Prime Minister’s patience was quickly running out.

  “Tim, I have read the reports that have been sent to me every time one of our spies has been caught or killed. I have also read your past recommendations that we need to reduce our recruitment from the police force and MI5 agents and simply increase the recruitment from our battle hardened SAS.”

  “Yes Sir. But it seems that even the SAS now-a-days are influenced by our social morals. If you recall last week, we lost a trooper to a female suicide bomber”.

  “So what now?” asked the Prime Minister interested in ending the conversation as the new Prime Minister of Australia was waiting in the next room.

  “I ask to be given £20 million to start a recruitment program where suitable teenagers are identified and recruited into a secret spy school. I intend to keep the knowledge of the school known to only eight people.”

  “Who would know of this?”

  “Yourself, myself, the finance minister, two selected trainers, the Director of the spy school and, at first, two teenagers. After two years, if successful, we will expand the program to 5 recruits per year. However, at first I would like to start with just two recruits.”

  “I see! If one fails, we always have a second one able to prove the program is successful”, stated the Prime Minister not surprised at 'Beta's’ lack of concern that failure would most likely mean death or capture on the job.

  “Yes Sir!”

  “And let me guess Tim! You have already identified the two teenagers, the trainers, and the director.”

  “All we now need is to find the second trainer!”

  “Ok Tim, I will get you your £17 Million.”

  “Sir, it was £20 Million.”

  “Tim, although I won my first election 7 years, 10 months, and 6 days ago, I was not officially sworn in until 4 days later. So, as your accuracy seems questionable, I am sure that all you need is £17Million”, replied the Prime Minister, who quickly turned and walked away towards his office barely hearing the “Yes Sir!”

  'Beta' then walked towards the secret exit, whilst feeling satisfied that he managed to get £500,000 more then he actually required. The added amount would come in handy at a later stage to support some “Black Ops”. First things first, he had an analyst to tear strips off for making a mistake with the Prime Minister’s dossier.

  San Gimignano is a small walled medieval Italian town near Siena in Tuscany. There are several reasons why this town is famous. One being its ability to have withstood an attack from Attila's Huns, and another for its high concentration of towers which at one point in history amounted to 72.

  Kevin Eady liked San Gimignano as it provided him a refuge from the rest of the world in an apartment that he had purchased and rebuilt as his headquarters. To date, nobody who knew that Kevin was still alive had any idea that this town was where he called home.

  As Kevin had been living there for the last 10 ye
ars, he was considered a local. His neighbours, along with most of the town folks, believed that Kevin was a farmer who made a small fortune selling his family land, situated somewhere along the Adriatic Sea, and had decided to move to Tuscany. In San Gimignano, Kevin was known as Nicola Squadra. Kevin always found it easy to adopt new names, as he had been required to do so since the age of 10. In fact Kevin Eady was not his birth name.

  Over the years, his apartment went through multiple renovations, including the building of four secret rooms and two underground tunnels. From the exterior, the apartment looked like all the other buildings. It was three stories high, with windows on the top two stories overlooking Piazza Della Cisterna. On one side, a small balcony offered a view of the surrounding undulating hills. In fact, Nicola went to great care to ensure that the exterior of the building did not look renovated nor completely run down.

  The two tunnels made their way underneath the city in opposite directions. One tunnel made its way to the north of the town where it linked into a hidden cave. The cave was very difficult to find, as its entrance was covered by wild blackberry bushes. Even if it was found, a sign warning of snakes discouraged entry. The cave was approximately 20 metres deep with a boulder at the opposite end. The boulder could be moved out of the way by pressing on a hidden switch, revealing the tunnel behind it. Nicola built a room half way along the tunnel, which held his weapons and also his escape motorbike – the BMW HP2 Megamoto. The motorbike was fitted with the bare essentials, in order to minimise its weight and therefore, develop maximum performance. This motorbike was a limited edition developed with the latest BMW’s and MI6’s technologies. It provided a quick get away or, if deemed necessary, a weapon of assault. Nicola’s model was equipped with the latest satellite navigational system, a 7.62mm alloy chain-gun to the front, a gliding mines system to the rear, and a Kevlar covered fuel tank able to sustain direct small arms fire. A chain gun is a unique type of machine gun that uses the movement of a chain to load bullets into the barrel and fire at a very high rate - over 500 rounds per minute.

  The other entrance to this tunnel was, via a false wine barrel, situated in the apartment cellar.

  The second tunnel stemmed from the first one via another hidden door. It headed in the direction of one of the remaining towers located to the south side of the town. The tower was one of the smaller ones and was not open to the public. Access to this tower was via either the second tunnel or by another apartment owned by Nicola. Although, the apartment was rented to short-term visitors via a local estate agent, the access door was always bolted shut. The second tunnel made its way to a secret hatch located near the tower’s stairwell. It also continued underneath the town outer ring road and into a garage built on a small block of land.

  This land overlooked the southern countryside, and was rented by a local farmer called Silvio, who used it to grow his own grape vines.

  Silvio was a very close friend of Nicola, and was only required to pay €1 and six dozen bottles of wine per year. Many years ago Nicola befriended Silvio and asked if he wanted to look after his land, as he did not want to work on the land anymore. Having said that, Nicola always looked forward to coming back from each mission to spend time helping Silvio on the farm. Although, Silvio considered Nicola one of his closest friends, he never asked any personal questions. He never asked Nicola why he disappeared months at a time, why he often came back battered and bruised, or why he built a garage that he never used. Silvio, now in his 70s, had only a few friends, and those that he did have, he truly treasured.

  Nicola was satisfied with the final setup of his apartments and tunnels. Having now finished his career as a spy, he was looking forward to starting lifestyle renovations rather then lifesaving modifications.

  This morning he was planning to make a trip to Florence to check his e-mail accounts. Although he had access to the Internet from his apartment, he always took the precaution to check his e-mail accounts from different cities.

  Today, feeling excited by his new life as a spy retiree, he would treat himself to breakfast at a little known Trattoria in Pisa, before heading across to Florence. Once in Florence he would also buy himself a few books to keep him entertained during the long winter nights.

  After Beppe finished hearing the whole story from Simon, he remained silent for a few minutes unsure how much he should tell this teenager. Beppe liked Simon a lot as he reminded him of his own son who had died during a mission in Iraq. Beppe’s son had numerous special skills that made him attractive to the various NATO secret agencies. Luca was regularly sought after, as he spoke Arabic and Kurdish and spent several years spying on behalf of the CIA, whilst Saddam Hussein was in power. After the collapse of Hussein, Luca was asked to set up a training establishment in Kuwait for the coalition special forces and other undisclosed organisations. Fourteen months ago, after a batch of failures were experienced by MI6, Luca was asked to lead an operation in Bagdad to determine where local rebels were gaining access to modern weapons. Shortly after arriving in Bagdad, Luca was exposed by one of his contacts and assassinated in the middle of the day at a local market. Although Beppe was devastated by the loss, he knew the risks associated with Luca’s choice of career: after all Luca simply followed in the footsteps of his father.

  “Simon, have you thought that the man following you might have information as to your dad’s whereabouts?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, he knew where to find you and your mamma. He intended to bring you back here to Europe, and most likely Italy. And here you are in Italy, looking for your father who at one point worked as a commercial sailor.”

  No sooner had Simon finished speaking, than he realised that his father’s job could have simply been a cover-up.

  “Signor Beppe, you might be right. So, what should I do next?”

  “Well, I would continue developing a search plan for your papa’. But I would also plan for the scenario that your European pursuer might turn up.”

  “So, plan for an escape strategy?”

  “No. Plan for a surveillance.”

  “Surveillance? Why? Wouldn’t that make it easier for him to kidnap me?”

  “Young man, your biggest worry is that he will approach you without any warning. What better way to be prepared than by knowing where he is at all times. Also, he is expecting you to be on your own. I might be an old man, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve that would increase the odds in your favour.”

  “Signor Beppe, I don’t want to place you and your family in danger, more than I already have.”

  “Simon, I don’t know what forces brought you to our doorstep, and I don’t know if this is life's funny way to right a wrong, but you are here, and I am able to help you.”

  “Right what wrong?”

  “I had a son who wanted to follow my career. Even though I was dead set against it, he went on and did it without my help. Fourteen months ago, he was assassinated on the job.”

  “So, Luigi is not your only son?”

  “No. I have three sons and one daughter.”

  “I’m confused, I thought you were a pharmacist?”

  “I was a pharmacist. But I also worked as a spy for hire.”

  “A spy for hire?”

  “Yes, almost like a mercenary of the spy world. Although, at the time, I only worked for NATO governments. I feel that you are a bright young man, but are inexperienced for what seems life has dealt you.”

  “So by righting the wrong, you mean to do for me what you didn’t do for your son.”

  “Yes and no. I’ll simply be teaching you the skills necessary to help you find your papa’, and outsmart your pursuer.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I am speechless. Grazie.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Although I wrote several training manuals for the British, French and Italian secret services, I only ever trained two agents.”

  “How did they go?”

  “One died many years ago and I am
not sure of the second one: he supposedly disappeared not long after he was recruited by the British Government.”

  “As in died?”

  “Who knows? Sometimes the best work can be accomplished when your enemy believes you to be dead.”

  “And who trained you?”

  “Let’s just say that I was not always on the right side of the law. One day I went to bed as a criminal and the next morning I woke up fighting against criminals.”

  “What changed you?”

  “Nothing! Europe went to war and those that wanted to arrest me suddenly needed my skills.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “You firstly need to change your appearance somewhat. Although you have purchased some great Italian clothes, you failed to notice that we have them fitted. So we need to go to see a friend of mine to adjust them. After that, we’ll need to do something about your hair: although blonde is now a days more common in Italia, a change of hair colour and some local styling, will make it harder for your pursuer to spot you in a crowd. We’ll also need to get you some equipment in case your pursuer resorts to the use of weapons.”

  “Actually Signor Beppe, I have already taken care of that area.”

  “In that case, I’ll have a look at what you have. I see no need to teach you self-defence: you walk and control yourself as someone who has been trained in some form of martial arts.”

  “You can tell that?”

  “Yes. In fact we need to make some changes to your posture and movement in order to disguise that.”

  “Anything else?”

  “We also need to determine when your papa’ was last in town, and how regularly he comes back.”

  “You mean to say that my dad doesn’t live here? And how would you know that?” asked Simon suddenly feeling nauseous.

  Whisper was not surprised to learn that a teenager matching Simon’s description was seen in Treviso. After all, everything that he experienced in the last few days was too coincidental: there was obviously a greater plan that he was not privy to. Firstly, he was told by one of his underground contacts that MI6 was planning to start training teenagers. Then, from another agency, he was asked to find a teenager who was believed to be the son of an MI6 spy. The teenager was equipped with several foreign passports and currency, and also had a tranquillising device that very few people in the world had access to. Lastly, once he traced the teenager back to Germany, one of his contacts informed him that once the teenager was kidnapped, he would need to be taken to Treviso: the town where Simon was already at. These were definitely not just coincidences.

  Whisper’s morning was spent driving around on a scooter looking at local eateries in the event that Simon had felt hungry, and had decided to buy himself a meal. He also requested a report of any locally advertised accommodation, and for his people to check if any of them had been rented by a teenager from overseas. Lastly, he took the time to get himself some fitted Italian made clothes and to visit a hair stylist.

  Kevin’s day started well. As a retired spy he no longer had to worry about risking his life for Queen and Country. The numerous high paid jobs over his extended career meant that he did not have any financial concerns. The weather during his drive through Tuscany was absolutely perfect. His favourite bookshop in Florence had just received a new batch of recently published books. The Internet café that he had found on Via De’ Gerolami near the Ponte Vecchio in Florence was completely empty and had no surveillance cameras. Kevin could not have hoped for a better day.

  He downloaded multiple e-mails onto his USB memory drive and then proceeded to a great Paninoteca: a bar specialising in toasted sandwiches located near the San Marco Museum. Whilst eating his sandwich, he attached the memory drive to a small portable MP3 player and read the downloaded e-mails. Among the junk e-mails, he was surprised to have also received three e-mails from 'Beta', all sent on the same day within a period of 5 hours; one thanking him for a great service offered over the years, another with several scanned copies of the local paper showing the suspected death of agent Shadow, and the last one offering him the role of the Director of a new spy school. Kevin had no intention of returning to the world that he had finally managed to leave. Next, he went on to read the junk e-mails: although he usually simply deleted them, he now had time to kill and thought reading e-mails about “new nasal technologies” would entertain him for a while. A few hours later, Kevin was on his way back home looking forward to the next phase of his life.

  Whisper, happy with his new disguise, decided to look for accommodation for himself before continuing to search for Simon. After all, it was 3 o’clock in the afternoon and it was unlikely that the teenager would be eating at a restaurant now. He jumped on a locally rented scooter and proceeded to the Maggior Consiglio hotel. The hotel was just outside of the centre of Treviso, it was quite comfortable, discreet, and used by him many years ago whilst in training.

  Beppe was very pleased with Simon’s makeover. He particularly loved the fact that Simon was able to quickly pick-up the ‘Trevisano’ dialect, thus making him look and sound like a local. Once Simon’s makeover was complete, they both proceeded to one of Beppe’s Pharmacies located on Piazza Del Duomo in the centre of the city.

  “So, you have not told me what we are doing at the pharmacy”, stated Simon.

  “Simon, all good things …..”

  “..come to those that wait!!” Simon finished with a smile. “Signor Beppe, do you think the European will find me here?”

  “I think the question is not ‘if’, but ‘when’.”

  “In that case best we both wear a helmet for the added disguise.”

  “Simon, that is a bad idea as unfortunately not many youths wear helmets. It’ll make you stand out. What we can do instead, is to get you a set of sunglasses to cover your eyes.”

  “Is that enough?”

  “Well, remember that your hair has changed, your olive skin is already getting lighter with the lack of sun in winter, but your eyes have not changed. Spies are always good at identifying the shape, colour, and intensity of their enemies’ eyes.”

  “In that case, I’d better stop at the shop next door and get myself a set of modern sunglasses.”

  “Already taken care of. Here is a set of Emernegildo Zegna sunglasses: they are favoured by the local youths.”

  “Thank you. They’re very trendy.”

  “Simon, we now need to find if there is an Englishman that owns a local apartment, but lives elsewhere outside this region. Preferably an apartment that is on the ground floor and has access to the roof as an additional emergency exit.”

  “What makes you think that my dad lives outside the province?”

  “Because young man, if anyone was able to work out the “books’ code” used by your parents, your papa’ would still be able to keep himself out of harms way by only visiting this city when he really had to.”

  After visiting the pharmacy, which was managed by Luigi, they were able to gain access to the Internet to investigate local properties. They spent the rest of the day looking for apartments that fitted the profile described by Beppe. They also took the time to discuss escape and evasion tactics, surveillance tactics, camouflage tricks of the trade, and how to best continue with their search for Simon’s father.

  On his return to San Gimignano, Kevin found himself considering the directorship offered by 'Beta'. Although he was happy to have quit his career, he did not necessarily believe that he could spend the rest of his life reading books and helping a local farmer. Unable to shake this thought out of his head, he decided to visit Silvio for a glass of vino and a slice of panettone.

  Shortly after arriving at the hotel, Whisper received three e-mails on his Personal Digital Assistant (PDA). The first e-mail was a reply to the accommodation checks carried out by his people. The second e-mail informed him that he would be joined by another agent who would undertake the current mission. The third one was a set of orders clearly specifying a new mission to be un
dertaken by Whisper. For an hour Whisper sat in his room contemplating the last two e-mails. He initially felt gutted that another agent was on route to replace him on the current mission, possibly resulting from his failure in Malaysia. However, what really took him by complete surprise, was the second set of orders.

  Despite the fact that his role had now changed, the second agent would not be turning up until the following day. This meant that he still had some time to kidnap Simon Eady. His people had reported that with the exception of three accommodations, who had failed or refused to provide a description of their tenants, all had been taken by couples. As Whisper left the hotel, the first snowfall for the winter arrived in Treviso.

  Beppe and Simon returned to the house feeling a tad deflated as none of the search results proved to be possible leads. To make matters worse, during dinner, Franca informed them of the phone call she had received that afternoon asking her for information about any tenant that they might had just taken in. Beppe and Simon did not have to say anything to one another, they both knew that Simon had been found by the European.

  After a lovely dinner that started with a plate of Radicchio Risotto, followed by Quails cooked in a delicious red tomato sauce and accompanied by Polenta, Beppe and Simon excused themselves with a short black coffee in hand and relocated to the study.

  “So, he has found me!” stated Simon disheartened.

  “No my young friend, we have found him. He simply suspects that you might be staying here but until he sees you, he will not be able to confirm it. To the contrary we can be pretty sure that he is staying in Treviso. All we need to do now is to execute the plan discussed earlier and see if he will lead us to your papa’ or to those who might know where your papa’ is.”

  “You are right Beppe. It is just that the odds of finding my father are already stacked against me, without this complication.”

  “Simon, it’s snowing!” stated Beppe whilst looking outside the window.

  “That’s great!! Hopefully in the morning it will allow us to determine if the house is already under surveillance” added Simon, once again feeling lucky.

  “Exactly! I’ll do the checking as we don’t want to expose you if we don’t have to.”

  “Beppe, I still don’t understand why my dad would send us a book telling us of a location which has a population of around 82,000. How are we ever going to find him? Particularly if what you say about him living elsewhere is true.”

  “I have been asking myself the same question. Maybe, you have missed something in the book.”

  “Well, the book did mention a few street names. Maybe one of them is not fictional.”

  “Simon, most authors nowadays seem to use real places, as it adds to the credibility of their fictional stories. If I was your papa’ I would buy an apartment one of the described locations, even if I had to rent it. I would then leave behind something that would either lead you to me or alert me of your presence.”

  “That’s great Signor Beppe!! Why didn’t I think of that before?”

  “It’s getting late and you need to get some rest. Why don’t you quickly show me the weapons you referred to earlier today and then get some sleep. As I only sleep 6 hours each night, I’ll read the book sent by your father and see if I know any of the mentioned localities.”

  “Signor Beppe you are probably right”. And with that Simon proceeded to show the contents of the bag given to him by Inspector Lau.

  Outside, Whisper stood silently hidden in the shade of a doorway across the street, trying to look through the open windows with his high powered night vision binoculars. Unfortunately, by the time he had arrived, most of the blinds were already closed. After 20 minutes, Whisper decided to go and investigate the other two accommodations of interest.