by James Flynn
The location was a logical choice. Davison’s words echoed. We feel it would be best for you to start looking to the stars. Brun had said it was an invite-only event. We don’t have all the answers but we have the ticket on this one.
Luke needed to draw this to a close, keep the encounter short.
“Professor, you will see me again, but we have never met, understood?”
Brun placed the now-empty bottle on the floor. He looked weary, his face was ashen and he once again removed his glasses and rubbed behind his ears.
“Understood?”
“Yes.” The professor kept his voice low.
Brun had a personality that people were drawn to, a warmth in his words and his being. This was not lost on Luke, he could see how the ease of manner was engaging, and his advanced years appeared to render him soft and calm.
“We will speak again Professor.” With that he was gone.
Brun jumped as the door slammed shut. He rested back in the chair and stared up at the constellations. After a short while he opened the fridge and took out another lager, the tears rolling down his cheeks.
16.
Tuesday 13th November
Each footstep echoed around the cavernous room. Structurally the hall was basic; the only abnormal feature was a large framework of silver industrial piping running across the ceiling, filtering in cool exterior air. The hall was three storeys below ground, located under the Osservatorio Astranomico di Collurania. It had originally been constructed as a spill-over for the Gran Sasso Laboratory functioning as a separate storage facility. As the funding streams increased more expansion occurred on the primary laboratory site and the hall became redundant and was left to abandon.
The space was filled with decorated tables covered with linen. Various shiny and expensive-looking decorations hung on the walls and a giant square clock was on the wall behind the head table. The clock face design was a range of overlapping geometric shapes that at a distance made a construct of Einstein’s face, showing the time as 6 a.m.
“What a depressing-looking room. Why do I feel like this is going to be a very boring party?” Delvechi grumbled as he weaved through the tables.
Beltrano stood at the large double doors at the opposite end of the hall surveying the room in silence. It was quiet, its atmosphere seemed disturbed by the decorations; everything hung awkwardly, as though the room was wearing a coat that didn’t quite fit. Beltrano made note of the exits, there were only two. The main one and a side exit leading out to a rickety flight of stairs to the rear of the building.
“Sir, is it necessary for us to be here this evening for this?” Delvechi whined.
“Yes … now shut up and check the stairways.”
Delvechi went to protest that he didn’t know what he was searching for but thought better of it and went out of the room.
Beltrano breathed in the air; it was stale and had a tangible weight. In the silence of a room being used out of context he felt a little uncomfortable. He knew that Professor Brun was that year’s keynote speaker and was sure to be a fascinating one.
Not too fascinating I hope …
He slowly walked amongst the tables, eyeing up the names that were printed on elaborate table signs, instructing the guests where they were to sit, each one denoting an important person in the scientific community, all being herded together for that one evening.
He stopped as he came to his place name; his eyes scanned over his table companions for the evening, a real mix of nationalities. He picked up his name and continued through the tables. He stopped again at a specific table. He lifted a place name and replaced it with his. He then walked the new name over to where his had previously been and laid it down. He glanced round at the room.
Delvechi came bursting through the main door. “It’s bloody freezing out there. The stairs are all clear, nothing to report.”
Beltrano nodded. “Ok, good.” He gave Delvechi’s shoulder a playful slap. “I hope you have a nice clean suit for this evening. I do not want you in uniform.”
Delvechi raised an eyebrow, and then smiled. “I shall wear my finest James Bond.”
Beltrano shook his head and chuckled. Just then his mobile phone erupted into tune; he lifted it out of his pocket, checked the screen and then cut the call off.
“No peace,” Delvechi joked.
“Hmm, yes.” Beltrano turned and headed for the door.
“Sir, I have been thinking …”
Beltrano turned. “I thought I heard a loud moving of rusty cogs.”
Delvechi ignored the insult. “All these scientists coming into Teramo. I checked and CERN supply each with return airline tickets to Rome …”
“More money than sense,” Beltrano quipped.
“Well if you do feel that this event is important to our investigation then why don’t I get in contact with border control and put out a notice to tag the entrance of each one of these people, ask for information to be collected on where they arrive from and who with? May be beneficial.”
“I do not think that is necessary.”
Delvechi didn’t listen. “And we can stretch it back … I can get a warrant to get them to trace back on the documentation and CCTV in the airport, see if we can see anything of merit, any patterns. Start at Rome and …”
Beltrano shook his head. “I don’t think anything like that will be required. Was it not you that felt this whole investigation was rather pointless? Maybe you should trust your instincts.”
Delvechi went to speak but was cut off.
“This is probably nothing more than a stressed scientist who decided he couldn’t face all these names,” he gestured round the room. ‘I don’t think the taxpayers would appreciate you unleashing expensive strategies … and our superiors definitely wouldn’t.”
Delvechi weighed up Beltrano’s words, then sighed.
“Come on, let’s go, time for breakfast, I’m buying.” Beltrano went again for the door.
“One more thing, Sir?”
Beltrano shook his head and looked to the heavens. “Yes?”
“How did you know this Gala was happening? I mean this thing is seriously well hidden, and I don’t just mean physically under the ground. No one has even heard of it …”
Beltrano smiled. “Lesson one: always know where to look. Now come on, the coffee won’t drink itself.”
Beltrano disappeared out to the main stairs. Delvechi stayed for a moment, then followed him out into the cold, leaving the hall to its silence once more.
17.
He strolled into the brightly lit station and Sarah came running over. They were the only two people in the large arrival hall. He wanted to say something but Sarah pressed her lips tightly to his.
He took her hand and began walking towards the stairs leading up and out of the station. They had only managed two steps when the crack of a gunshot echoed around the empty expanse. Suddenly, Sarah’s hand was no longer in his. Bullets began to flash around the station, the sounds of fizzing velocity and the sharp clangs of metal against the walls; he couldn’t see any gunmen but the bullets kept coming. Panic gripped his heart, Sarah would be hit any second.
The low rhythm of an approaching train started up. Where was she?
The train rhythm was getting faster and louder. His panic reached breaking point. There she was, frozen to the spot amid the hail of bullets. He had to reach her.
The train became deafening, his heart was thumping against his chest. Five more steps. He could see her eyes; tears filled them.
He was only two steps away, Sarah was screaming his name: “Alex, Alex, Alex!”Then the world around them exploded into a fireball. Her shrill scream filled his ears as the darkness enveloped them.
***
The mountain face sparkled as the fresh sun climbed in the east. Luke had kept the stark vision of Sarah in the station in his head since leaving the hotel before first light. Sleep had visited him briefly but as always the nightmares had been waiting, dragging him back t
o the past. That is why he had been out running for the past two hours, heading toward the Monti Laga National Park, passing through the small town of Torricella Sicura to the north west of Teramo. . Luke pushed his legs harder as he navigated the steep trail; two large rivers shimmered to his right as the morning sun gained power. The air was sharp against his skin and his ever-labouring breath puffed out clouds of moisture into the sky. He had started his run in order to focus his mind, but the sheer beauty of the region was distracting. The mountain range rose all around, there were no other people at this time in the morning and he felt as though every tree and blade of grass was his own to enjoy.
A sharp pain flashed across his skull … I am alone.
He slowed his pace to a walk. He had reached a small wooden gate that stood loosely propped across the stony trail, once designed to keep people out. There was a gentle sound of trickling water coming from a small stream running through a natural trough in the land; smooth stones were strewn in its path.
Luke jumped the gate and walked out into a wide expanse of well-kept grass, enclosed on his right by a sheer cliff face, its white stone blocking the sun. To his left, seemingly painted against the sky was the beginning of the Gran Massif range. His mind began to drift to Sarah once more.
Lactic acid was already attacking his legs and he was conscious to keep moving and stretching in the cold weather. Pushing himself to focus he slowly walked across the expanse of ground, taking long strides to help burn the acid.
Two birds circled above, swooping and soaring, paying little attention to Luke as he came to a stop in the middle of the clearing, his breathing still heavy. His encounter with Brun was still playing on his mind, he gave so little. Brun probably knew Vittorio better than anyone, the pictures Luke had seen indicated a closeness and the pair had spent years together, locked beneath the earth. Yet the answers Brun gave were vague; he claimed to not know basic details … it doesn’t fit. Could Brun be hiding something? And if so, why? The simplest answer was that Brun had some part in Vittorio’s disappearance; Luke mulled it over, sucking in large lungfuls of fresh morning air, but again he could not make the pieces fit. He had dealt with a lot of bad people, evil people who were killers and worse. Brun didn’t fit the mould.
But he is covering something up.
Luke wondered if Davison and Group 9 had the full picture. It was certainly likely that they knew far more than they were giving Luke; their job was to manipulate him, shape situations for maximum effect; he was a tool, he knew it and it didn’t bother him … the work keeps the mind occupied, that’s all he ever asked of Group 9 and himself.
Luke let his mind run through a thousand different scenarios for that evening’s gala. He couldn’t shake the thought of the North Korean scientist Chung Su. He didn’t accept that she was there just for the gala, and judging by the two men following her the previous evening he was not alone in his thoughts. He would need to take his chance to talk to her.
Luke decided to not make contact with Davison until he had more. If he went with what he currently had he would only be told to get certainties. A buzz in his stomach told him that it was going to be dangerous, not only was the location of the gala a negative – underground, limited entrances – but there were also going to be many players to assess and keep tabs on all in one place. Luke had to gain control of it; he tried to push the pressure from his mind. Occupy yourself with the fundamentals, the larger consequences will be solved by the smaller objectives.
The wind blew through the valley, shaking the branches and carrying the birds higher. The sun found a crack in the cliff and a beam of sunlight illuminated the patch of grass. Luke shut his eyes, the sounds of the Gran Sasso crashing in his ears, the whistle of the wind, the chirp of birds, the distant trickle of water … then came the faint rumble … the rhythmic shudder…thump, thump … thump, thump … thump, thump.
Luke opened his eyes and set off running. He pounded back along the trail, bounding back toward Torricella Sicura and on to Teramo, a lone figure running the mountain road, focused, tuned and deadly.
18.
A bell chimed once in the distance, the day had reached 1 p.m. Few people were braving the cold, a couple of locals milled around below the large Gothic tower. Chung Su checked her watch for the hundredth time since taking her seat, the dials seemed frozen, time creeping imperceptibly towards the evening. She was starting to regret leaving her hotel room, at the time it had seemed like a good idea, a relief from the constant wave of thoughts that crashed over her as she sat in the hotel. Bravery must be in the spirit, be a part of the national fabric. She had heard the doctrine over and over growing up, but the words now had solid meaning. Eventually the thoughts had become suffocating so she had pulled on warm clothes and headed into Teramo, trying to convince herself she could take in the sites like a casual tourist.
But now, caught in the weak sunlight, the red car with its nasty looking passengers drifted across her mind. The familiar fear was creeping in, and she glanced around anxiously.
La Cattedrale di San Berardo stood old and large to her left. She had not planned to end up back there but her inner compass had directed her straight to it. She clutched a leaflet that gave some more detail about the cathedral, trying to understand each English word.
Chung Su took a moment to reflect that Teramo and Italy seemed to hook her directly into mankind. History was something that her homeland had in abundance, a history that was rich, a history the rest of the world did not understand and she was proud of that history. Yet being surrounded by buildings and history that seemed inextricably linked with the entire shaping of the modern world drew her into contemplation.
It was impossible for a scientist and especially a physicist to ignore the repercussions that each new discovery brought with it, but the work Professor Vittorio had been undertaking was truly earth-changing, universe-altering. There were many that argued that with each new scientific discovery mankind drew ever closer to proving the existence of God. Chung Su would be fascinated to see what would happen to such believers with the revelation of Vittorio’s discovery.
Her heart fluttered again at the thought of it all, the hundreds of images of the Gran Sasso Institute’s OPERA experiment that her team had trawled over had not prepared her for the true magnitude and brilliance of the real thing. Surprisingly, she had not felt any guilt when talking to the professor. Her motives were pure, to hold North Korea up as a great nation, a great nation that could hold the power to give sustenance to its people, to the entire world.
She and her team had done extremely well in replication, but now she was close to finding the little details that could alter their calculations. Her stomach flipped with the thought of what the two professors had achieved. With time she knew she could return with the crucial information that was required to complete their experiments and catch up with CERN, and the thought got her blood pumping.
Then a nagging feeling began to seep into her thoughts, the same sudden remembrance that kept hitting her like a punch in the gut. She wasn’t just here for her research, she was caught up in a mission that seemed crazier with every passing day. She shivered involuntarily and pulled her coat tighter around her body. She was no closer to uncovering where her two fellow countrymen had gone. Not for the first time she admonished herself for not ever contemplating or thinking about where the intelligence used in her laboratory was coming from. She had naively just accepted it and used it. The irony of now being tasked with finding where the source of it had gone was a cruel twist.
Eventually she stood up and checked her watch again, 1.30 p.m. Checking around as she strolled slowly back into the main square, there was still no sign of the men in the red car. For no reason other than convenience she went over to the small café where she had bought her first taste of Europe, picked up a coke and went back into out into the thickening cold.
The incessant watch-checking was a manifestation of the building tension inside; the well of emotion that was washing arou
nd inside her was rocking her like sea sickness. She wanted desperately to be able to enjoy the evening, but it was an impossibility. The short squat military man flashed vividly in her mind, with his yellow teeth and twisted smile.
Your homeland needs you; do you love your nation? Your leader?
The remembrance of his words haunted her, the manipulation worn on his sleeve like a badge, no hiding it.
How can they expect me to accomplish this? This is not what I do, I am not a detective or military spy …
She fought back the hopelessness, it sucked the life out of her. She turned a corner and walked aimlessly down a narrow alleyway, lost amid the history of the world. Then, as if listening to her hopes, her mind vaulted in another direction, back to the world she understood.
Where are you, Professor Vittorio?
19.
“So how do I look, Sir?”
“What am I, your girlfriend?”
Both men shared a laugh.
“I see you more than I do her.” Delvechi seemed to drift off into thought; a smile crept across his mouth. “That’s why I had to ask her to marry me, afraid she may get jealous.”
Beltrano raised an eyebrow. “Well, tell your fiancée that you scrub up well.”
Both men had been sat in Beltrano’s 4x4 Mazda parked up at the Teramo Osservatorio Astranomico di Collurania for the last half an hour. For all intents and purposes the Observatory was completely shut down, red and white barriers stood all around the topside entrances with private security sharing designated posts.
Beltrano had informed the Gran Sasso Institute, CERN and the private security company that himself and Officer Delvechi would be present at the event as part of an ongoing investigation into Professor Vittorio’s disappearance but assured them they would keep a low profile. The security firm had not objected, they knew the value of not getting on the wrong side of the Carabinieri. However, the head of tonight’s event, Director of Public Operations at the Gran Sasso Institute, Signor Malfi, was not quite so accommodating, arguing incessantly about the private and historical importance of the gala. In the end, Beltrano had made it very clear that he would be attending the event and it could happen with or without the director; Signor Malfi had soon relented.
