by Michael Dunn
“John? Is that you? Oh, thank God you answered my phone,” Dan said, sounding out of breath.
“Wait, what happened? Where are you?” John asked.
“I’m outside of Pompeii in what will sound like a rip-off of the plot of The Hangover meets Goodfellas, and I have a slightly less murderous Joe Pesci imitator chasing me.”
“Pompeii? What the hell are you doing in Pompeii?”
“Um, spontaneous illegal plastic surgery and escaping my killers. How has your day been so far?”
“Wait, what? Is this a joke?”
“No, this is not a fucking joke. It’s not a prank. This is serious, as serious as I can get. These Italian gangsters kidnapped me this morning and flew me Pompeii to perform plastic surgery for the fucking mob!”
“Oh, wow… that is quite a story.”
“I’m not fucking kidding! Yes, it is far-fetched, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
“Um, uh… how did this…”
“Now is not the time. Just get me the hell out of here. The mob is trying to kill me.”
“Yes, we know. Steven and I are inside the office of their rivals.”
“Ugh… of course you are.”
“They said something about a small, green stone.”
“Yeah, I, uh, saw it.”
“They followed you and took pictures of you since last night and this morning.”
“Did they get my good side? Never mind. I’ll look at the pictures and I will tell you all about my big day later. Now, get me the hell out of here. I gotta go. Keep my phone charged and wait for my next opportunity to call.” Dan ended the call.
John placed Dan’s phone on the desk. Both Steven and the Professor waited in anticipation.
“That was Dan. He said the gangsters kidnapped him this morning, and they forced him to fly to Pompeii to perform plastic surgery.”
The Professor told John, “When he calls again, we shall go and pick him up.” The Professor pressed one of the many buttons on his desk.
“Yes?” a woman’s voice said on the other end.
“Have a car filled with petrol and ready to go to Pompeii on a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, sir,” the disembodied voice said.
“Also, the two American doctors will stay here for dinner. See that they are well fed and that they receive anything they request, but do not permit them to leave the courtyard grounds.”
“We’re your prisoners?” John asked.
“Of course not. You are my guests with freedom of the house and grounds. You are waiting here until your friend calls,” the Professor said with a stretched smile.
“What happens if we insist on leaving?”
The Professor chuckled and answered, “I don’t think that would be very healthy for your immediate future.”
A tall, well-built man in a gray suit entered the office. He and the Professor exchanged nods.
“This is Abraham,” the Professor motioned to the new man, who nodded at the American doctors. “He will be your guide around the house and grounds.”
“Will he give us a guided, factoid-rich historical tour?” John asked.
“If you wish.”
“That’s good,” John said channeling his inner smart-ass. He could turn it off, whereas Dan could not. “I wouldn’t want some mindless threatening shadow following us around. I mean, that would be… bordering on rudeness.”
Abraham made a face suggesting he wanted to beat John, while the Professor just smiled.
“Perhaps you are right,” the Professor said. “Abraham, thank you for your attention. However, I have decided that you should help Emilio get the car ready to pick up our missing guest.”
Abraham nodded and then asked, “Do you expect trouble on this pickup?”
“I certainly hope not. However, because the Sabellas are involved, be prepared for anything. Also, please send for Dr. DuBois to join us.”
Abraham nodded and left.
“Another doctor?” Steven groaned. “This is becoming a regular convention.”
The Professor smiled. A minute later, an attractive blonde woman in her mid-thirties arrived wearing a royal blue business suit. She appeared annoyed entering the office.
“Yes?” She asked, following an exasperated sigh.
“Please be the tour guide for these gentlemen. We are waiting for a phone call and a destination for their friend.”
“Professor, my research is at a critical phase. If I have to leave now…”
“If we don’t get that call, your research will be for naught. This… pickup is necessary for our research. The man we are going to pick up claims to have seen it.”
Her eyes went wide. “He did? Where? When?”
The Professor chuckled and said, “All in good time, my dear. In the meantime, please show these gentlemen around the house and courtyard, but they cannot leave the grounds until their friend has called with instructions where to pick him up. Dr. DuBois, may I present to you our guests all the way from America, Dr. Steven Pierce, and Dr. John Miller. Gentlemen, this is Dr. Sallie DuBois.”
They stood up and shook her hand.
She said, “Pleasure,” with an annoyed sarcastic sigh and reluctantly shook their hands.
“Dr. DuBois, I’ve changed my mind. Skip the tour. Please take these gentlemen to dinner.”
She forced a smile and told them, “Doctors, please follow me.”
They followed her to the kitchen where the cooks were preparing dinner for a house full of people. Their dining room reminded the doctors of a small, school cafeteria except the cooks were better dressed and better paid.
“Sit please,” Dr. DuBois said, and then she went to speak with the cooks.
John and Steven sat.
“I expected the dining room to be more, I don’t know, elegant,” John whispered.
“I think this is where the help eats.”
“Great, the Professor considers us the help. So much for being involuntary guests.”
Dr. DuBois came back and said, “Please follow me,” and then rushed out of the staff dining room. John and Steven had to hurry to keep up. They followed Dr. DuBois down a hall with bright, red carpeting on the floor and portraits on the wall. They continued through a hardwood set of double doors where a long table set with candles in the middle.
The help scrambled to set places for the three doctors. Once the help finished setting their places, other members of the staff brought the food and water. John looked up and saw another video camera on the wall above the door.
“What would you like to drink?” asked one almost elderly woman with a thick French accent.
“Scotch and soda,” Dr. DuBois said.
John and Steven said that water would be just fine.
“What is your field of study, Dr. DuBois?” John asked.
She was annoyed with these questions.
“I received my PhD. in medieval European archeology.”
Usually, one of the two would have made an Indiana Jones joke, but they did not dare, fearing that Sallie DuBois would clam up entirely and they would get no more answers from her.
“What do you do for the Professor?” Steven asked.
“I research for him.”
“What kind of research?”
“He has peculiar tastes and he needs someone like me to research and acquire extremely unique artifacts for him and, of course, catalog them.”
“Like the Orb of Genoa?” Steven asked.
“Yes.”
“Is that is one of them?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What is it for?”
“Excuse me?” Dr. DuBois asked.
“Why is he so eager to see if our friend knows where the Orb of Genoa is?”
“Is that what this is about?” Dr. DuBois asked. Both John and Steven nodded. “What happened to your friend?”
Steven explained, “Dan Carter is a plastic surgeon who got caught in a Sabella honeypot and kidnapped to perform plastic surgeri
es. He said he saw the Orb of Genoa and now we are waiting for him to get to a safe place so he can call us so we can go and pick him up.”
“I see,” Dr. DuBois said.
“What do you think will happen once we get Dan here?” John asked
“The Professor will talk to him about what he saw.”
“And then what?” John asked.
“What John means is what will happen to us after the Professor talks to us. Are we free to go or…” added Steven.
“Or what?”
“Or will he kill us?” Steven asked.
“Is that what worries you? That the Professor will kill you once he gets the information he wants?” Dr. DuBois laughed. “Why would he kill you two? It does not involve you. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time. By the way, how did you get involved?”
John answered, “We are on vacation. Last night was our first night in Italy, all three of us headed out, went our separate ways. Steven and I returned from our long night out. Later in the afternoon, Emilio paid us a visit. He told us what might have happened to Dan and The Orb of Genoa and then he brought us here.”
“What are you guys doctors of?”
John said, “We are both surgeons. I’m a plastic surgeon, and Steven, here, is a neurosurgeon. The guy we are waiting for is also a plastic surgeon.”
“Ooh,” she said sipping her drink. The drink seemed to loosen her tongue.
“What is the deal with this place?” Steven asked.
“This house?” She asked, and the doctors nodded.
“It’s like a museum here,” Steven said.
For a moment, John remembered the house he had escaped from earlier this morning; a formidable house that also resembled a museum. He tried not to smile thinking of Teresa.
Sallie recited, “This house has a storied history. It was originally a monastery and a place for weary traveling monks to rest for a couple of days before going on their way again. It has been a hotel, a college, a convent. The Allies destroyed it in World War II and then it was rebuilt in the 1950s. Since then, it has changed hands many times, until the Professor bought it almost two decades ago.”
“How many people live here?” Steven asked.
“You mean how many people work for the Professor?”
“That too.”
Dr. DuBois smiled and took another sip of her drink. “To be honest, I have no idea. I never counted. People come and go. There is the house staff and there are people who run his businesses.”
“What are his businesses?” John asked.
“How about we all have a drink together?”
“Dr. DuBois,” John said. “Perhaps we should…”
“Call me Sallie.”
“Okay, Sallie, perhaps we should keep this professional, because we…”
“I’ll drink with you, Sallie,” Steven said.
Sallie smiled and asked, “What was your name again?”
“Steven.”
They shook hands again. Sallie waved the server over. “I’ll have another Scotch and soda, and he will have…”
“The same,” Steven said.
“Vodka martini,” John decided.
Sallie continued. “He’s a full professor who had tenure before he left. I know that for sure. He told me he taught at Cambridge and left because of the politics and because he had some radical ideas. Perhaps he did. It is not my place to disbelieve him.”
“What did he teach?” John asked.
“Medieval European history.”
John and Steven exchanged glances and returned their attention to Sallie. Steven asked, “He was your professor?”
Sallie nodded. “Once upon a time.”
John asked, “What are his businesses?”
“I know only what I am allowed to know, and that is to research and investigate the antiquities that he wants to acquire,” Sallie answered.
“Why does he want to acquire these antiquities?” John asked.
“Why do men collect paintings, yachts, or cars they will never drive? Because they have too much money and because they can,” Sallie said and then laughed.
Their drinks arrived, they clinked glasses, and took a sip.
Steven asked, “So, what do you think the Professor…?”
Suddenly, “It’s Raining Men,” by the Weather Girls blared inside John’s pocket.
Sallie laughed and asked, “What is…”
Steven held up a finger and whispered, “It’s Dan.”
Sallie nodded.
“Hello? Dan’s phone. This is Dr. John Miller speaking.” John put the call on speaker.
“John, thank God it’s you.”
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” John asked, and he pantomimed a pen and paper, handed to him almost immediately.
“One at a time. At the moment, I am fine. I’m in the women’s section of a department store, hiding in a dressing room. It’s like the Italian version of Target.”
“Whose phone are you using?”
“Some woman’s. I told her that my ex-wife’s new boyfriend was hunting me and they are trying to kill me so she can inherit my family’s money. She even bought me lunch and some new clothes, because I could tell her what that rash on her forearm was.”
“This woman spoke enough English?”
“Obviously I found a woman who could speak English otherwise we wouldn’t be talking.” Dan yelled in a hushed tone.
“Okay, where are you?”
“I told you I was in the ladies…”
“The address. I need an address.”
“One second.”
Less than a minute later, Dan texted his location to his phone. The GPS displayed how long it would take to get him.
“Did you get it?” Dan asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Listen, we are coming to pick you up, but we are bringing friends interested in that green ball you claim to have seen.”
“Who?”
“He calls himself the Professor.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, and he is… English by birth, but he is like the Italians in your favorite movies and his kryptonite is that little green rock.”
Sallie gave John a quizzical look.
Steven whispered, “You have to know how to speak to Dan. He’s like a really bright eleven-year-old.”
Sallie nodded.
“Let me get this straight,” Dan said. “So, I just escaped Joe Pesci and Ray Liotta only to hand it over to Professor Moriarty?”
“Dan, it is a little more complicated than that, but yes.”
“Wait, are you guys okay? Is Steven there?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re fine. We are guests of the Professor. We just had a rather delicious dinner and he really wants to talk to you, so, you are safer with the Professor.”
Dan sighed and then said, “Fine, come to get me and hurry, the woman wants her phone back and she’s probably not happy I’m watching porn while talking to you. Also, bring a sandwich. I’m starving.” To the woman, Dan said, “Okay, okay. All right, already.” Then John heard, “Gotta go. Bye.”
The call ended. John put Dan’s phone back in his pocket and said, “Now, we just have to tell the Professor that…”
Abraham and Emilio entered the dining room.
“I don’t think they’re hungry,” Steven whispered.
“It’s time to go,” Emilio said.
The Americans and Sallie DuBois stood up from the dining room table and followed the overdressed goons to the Professor’s office.
“I heard the other doctor has called,” the Professor said while he was pruning his flowers. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go get your friend. Sallie, you stay here and continue your research. We’ll have some late night drinks tonight.” The Professor was as giddy as a child expecting Christmas morning.
“Come on, let’s go get your friend,” Emilio said.
Chapter Twelve: Arriving at the Hospital
Several hours earlier, the helicopter lande
d on the hospital roof under the bright yellow E (for elicottero, the Italian word for helicopter). Dan’s stomach was becoming less queasy since setting down. Tex got out and he urged Dan to follow. The helicopter flight (and his situation) shook up Dan too much to make any jokes. One reason was that they scared him. He had not been in a helicopter since he was a child and had forgotten that the experience had scared the young smart-ass.
His uncle had been a helicopter pilot, and Grandpa Dan suggested he bring the boy up for a ride. Young Dan had been driving his family nuts and his uncle wanted revenge on the little shit. They took Dan on a helicopter ride that made a roller coaster seem like a kiddie duck pond ride. The helicopter ride lasted ten minutes, and when young Dan got out, he vomited. He had heard later on that day his family, including Grandpa Dan, had laughed about the story his uncle told.
He had forgotten about that family picnic until he was halfway over Pompeii and his subconscious and his gurgling, rumbling stomach reminded him of that day. He did not say much once the helicopter lifted (which relieved Tex and everyone else on board, but Dan would not have cared about that). Instead, Dan focused on getting into his doctor mode, where all the silliness and comedy turned off.
Once the helicopter blades had ceased whirling, two security guards opened the rooftop doors for Tex and Dan. The guards nodded to Tex, who nodded back. The guards did not acknowledge Dan’s presence, who did not care. The guards led the new arrivals from the roof down a flight of cement stairs and then down the hall. Tex stopped in front of a small door, which read “No admittance. High Voltage” in Italian.
In Italian, Tex Romano told the security guards, “Thank you, gentlemen. I can take it from here.” They nodded and left the new arrivals.
When the guards left, Tex produced a key from his pocket, opened the door. Behind the door was a private elevator. The doors of the small elevator opened. Tex and Dan stepped inside. Tex pressed 4, and the elevator descended.
“Where we are?” Dan asked.
“Oh, yes,” Tex said, and smiling and more agreeable to Dan’s reserved demeanor. “We are at St. Francis of Assisi Hospital. My employers built this hospital as a token of goodwill. It is mostly a teaching hospital, and one for the sick children of Southern Italy.”
“Uh-huh,” Dan said, his skepticism leaked out. He was holding his tongue, and he did not know how long he could last before he exploded.
