by Paul Heron
When he turned his attention back to the screen, he saw the very face of Mr Garcia, the Mexican representative for the Mancini Corporation. A photograph of Mr Garcia with the British prime minister appeared on the screen. Garcia was an athletic-looking man, with brown skin and shiny black hair, rather charming. His smile was crooked. His thin lips were accompanied by a nasty scar down the side of his face that ended at the right side of his lips. In the photo, the prime minister gave Garcia a smile of gratitude, as if Garcia had the answer to all the world’s problems. You poor fool, you have no idea the mess you’ve made. Michael shook his head at her naiveté.
There was a bang at the door.
‘Police, open up!’
Michael froze in his chair.
Chapter Sixteen
GRABBING HIS SUIT JACKET from the bed, Michael ran to the window, thinking he must have given something away at the police station. Then he heard the voice again.
‘I’m arresting you and your unicorns!’
Michael stopped, detecting a hint of Mohammad’s voice. He went to the door and pulled it open.
‘Got you, didn’t I?’ Mohammad stood at the door, grinning mischievously. His eyes were still bloodshot and glazed from the night before, but surprisingly still in high spirits.
Michael just smiled and shook his head.
They joined the others in Ajit’s room.
‘Right, everybody’s here. Let’s get started,’ George said. ‘I hope you all had fun last night.’ He cleared his throat.
They all looked the same, tired, and certainly not in the position to explore the issues they’d been introduced to yesterday.
‘I want to go back to bed!’ Eduardo moaned, his eyes as red as Mohammad’s.
Everyone could relate. The room was full of pale faces.
‘Well, I’m sure we’re all exhausted,’ George said. ‘Did you all get breakfast? Coffee? There’s plenty downstairs. Here are your ID badges.’ He passed the seven badges around.
‘Mohammad Hassan, officer for the UN,’ Mohammad read. ‘Man, this is like a birthday present! Where’s my gun, George?’
Sofia affixed her badge to her lapel, looking like the heroine from an action adventure. ‘I’m ready to go.’ she said ‘If these Fomorian’s and this dirty God of the Dead wants to bring more suffering to a member of my family, I’ve got something to say about that.’ Her fearlessness was infectious.
Michael felt this was his chance to redeem himself for what had happened the night before, and to prove that he was worthy of being their leader. But he had no idea what to do, or how to lead them. He was still sure Elisabetta had got the wrong guy. ‘Okay! Let’s make a game plan!’ He rubbed his hands together and said, ‘let’s brainstorm what we need to accomplish today.’
‘Um... Save the world!’ Mohammad joked.
George suggested that Sofia, Marcel, and Carolina should visit the Ministry of Defence in London, while Michael would go to the shop for the book.
Michael’s heart sank, and he wished he had beaten George to the punch. He was planning on spending the day with Sofia in London. But now, thanks to George's brilliant plan, Marcel gets to spend the day with her. Marcel, who probably couldn’t stop taking selfies long enough to effectively guard her. Meanwhile, he would be stuck in boring Little Camberly.
That’s just great. I’m the leader, and on the first day of this whole thing, I’m stuck talking to some crotchety old guy in a bookshop. Thanks, George.
‘George, if Michael’s to lead this thing, shouldn’t he be going to London?’ Carolina said.
‘If they’re already searching for Michael, he can’t go near London. We won’t be staying in this country for very long,’ George said. ‘We get that book, today. If you can find out anything about the plans of Mancini Corporation, we can start tracking their movements. Find out who’s leading the Ministry of Mythology, then we’ll plan our attack on them. We need to cut the head of their entire operation. Quietly. And It’s safer to go to London by train; the traffic can be heavy, and they might be watching our vehicles.’
‘I like taking the train into London anyway,’ Sofia said.
‘What? We’re not riding unicorns?’ Mohammad joked.
Ajit shook his head at Mohammad. ‘Are you ever serious?’ He looked like he was about the vomit, his face had gone from white to grey.
‘You’re serious enough for both of us,’ Mohammad quipped while stroking his new beard, looking very wise. You’d never guess he was the joker among them.
‘I’ve always wanted to go to London,’ Carolina said, grinning mischievously. She also didn’t act like the martial arts pro she was, which would for sure make her more dangerous. No one would be threatened by her.
Michael caught Sofia eyeing the two of them in the mirror from across the room. Was that a look of jealousy?
He steered the conversation back to the plan. ‘Okay. Sofia can run reconnaissance in the office, gathering information, while Carolina and Marcel can keep watch outside. Try and find anything about this Mancini group.’
Sofia checked her hair in the mirror. In the mirror’s reflection, Michael could stare at her without being noticed.
‘Well, I sure look like someone who belongs in the Ministry of Defence!’ Sofia said. ‘No one will question me. And I can put on a good accent, too. To go with whatever language I need to speak.’
Michael secretly agreed. With her self-confidence, she could fit in anywhere. Of course, with his growing crush on Sofia, he’d agree to anything she’d say.
‘For some reason I’m starting to like the fact we’ve been charmed to look differently to other’s,’ Carolina said. ‘It’s like being in a really good costume.’
‘Man, you know, I really like these suits,’ Marcel said. ‘I think I look great. If only they could see me in Brazil now...’ He stood beside Sofia, admiring himself in the mirror. Michael wished Marcel would get out of the way, so he could stare at Sofia again.
‘The Ministry of Defence, is it our best bet? I have no idea what we’re doing,’ Michael said. ‘Is it wise to go to the head of government?’ He felt so ill-equipped, wishing he had more leadership experience.
‘Ministry of Defence is our best option, Michael,’ George said. ‘The train station is a ten-minute walk away, but Ringo will give you three a lift,’ George fixed Marcel’s tie. Then he turned to Eduardo and Ajit. ‘When they’re in London, can you two go to the university and figure out how to build SIM cards to synchronise our phones to L’amico?’
‘No problem, George.’ Ajit groaned. He seemed to love the idea, but his pale expression proved his stomach preferred the idea of water and bed.
‘And I’ll get the book,’ Michael said, feeling like he was being kept away from all the real action.
George looked at Michael. ‘I don’t want Mancini Corporation to get their hands on it.’ He looked at him, as if delivering vital life or death information. ‘Just destroy the damn thing when you memorise whatever Elisabetta has written in it.’ Turning to the others he said, ‘Mohammad, after Ringo leaves these three at the train station, he’ll give you and Ahmad a lift to the gallery. Keep a look out for anything dodgy. This began the moment they asked about Michael yesterday.’ So be very careful.
Chapter Seventeen
AN HOUR LATER, MICHAEL and Scarlett arrived at the book shop on the village high street. Michael sat in the passenger seat of Scarlett’s Aston Martin. Behind the all-round tinted windows, he was certain people on the outside couldn’t see him.
‘Scarlett?’ He unbuckled his seatbelt. ‘Do you not think, given everything we seem to be involved in, especially the importance of whatever is written in this book just over there,’ he gestured at the shop, ‘we should be more protected and perhaps less discreet than a supercar like this?’
Scarlett shut off the engine and pulled a gun from the glove box. She looked at Michael. ‘The reason for this car is simple: it’s faster than most cars on the road. It’s bullet and bomb proof. Inside this
car, I can keep you safe, Michael.’ She checked the magazine in her pistol. ‘Once we step out of this car, either this pistol,’ she pulled out the dagger he’d seen her dissolve those two Formorians posing as officers with, ‘or this, depending on whether the enemy is human or Fomorian, are what we’ll be relying on. But don’t underestimate Mancini Corporation, Michael. They’re directed by The Fomorians, and more specifically – The Dark One. And Michael, this isn’t some childish story were The Dark One is just some grumpy old man. He’s dark, because his soul is as black as tar. He is one sadistic, tormented entity who gets pleasure from the pain and suffering of others. Think of your worst nightmares, whatever they are, they wouldn’t be a fraction as terrifying as he is. We should all live in the hope that we never have to deal with him.’ She looked across Michael through his window. ‘Lets go.’
Michael followed her gaze. He noticed the bars on the windows. The prison-like bars seemed out of place in such a drowsy little village. However, if Elisabetta’s secret book was being hidden there, the shop probably did need tight security.
Michael stepped out of the car. ‘These doors are heavy!’ he said, slamming his door in slow-motion.
‘All of Ringo’s cars are bulletproof,’ Scarlett said. ‘There’s no messing around here.’
Michael pushed open the bookshop’s door, heavy and made of steel. As he stepped inside, he was hit by the smell of paper, a smell found in old libraries. The smell took him back to his grandparents’ study where he used to play as a young boy. There was an eerie silence to that study. The same feeling could be felt in the shop, which was soon broken by angry words coming from beneath a table in the corner.
‘That’s Anthony,’ Scarlett whispered in Michael’s ear. ‘Hey! What’s your problem over there? Stop your bloody whining,’ she shouted through a childish giggle. She bit her scarlet coloured lips, trying to contain her apparent excitement.
‘Just a second!’ a reply came from below the table. A scurrying and thumping followed, the sound of papers falling to the floor, sliding almost all the way over to Michael and Scarlett. ‘Wait a second...Scarlett?’ The man shouted. Crawling out from under the table, he stood up and squinted his eyes. Recognising Scarlett, his face lit up the same way her’s did. Only he didn’t even attempt to contain his excitement. Stepping over the mess he’d created, disregarding the documents that had fallen, he rushed across the room. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Dropping his screwdriver into his pocket, he pulled Scarlett in for a bearhug. ‘I’ve missed you, sweetheart!’
Scarlett laughed joyfully. ‘How are you, old man? Still growing your hair I see. Still going for the bookshop wizard look?’ She affectionately prodded him in the gut with her finger.
He laughed. He had shoulder length, white hair making him look as if he had been locked up in the shop for decades.
‘I’m better now that I’ve seen you. You should come here more often, my dear.’
He extended a hand to shake Michael’s. Michael realised that Anthony had a prosthetic hand.
‘The reason I don’t come here more often is because I spend so much time flying from country to country, working with other agents...’
‘Ah, yes. The great Sirani Foundation,’ Anthony shouted proudly.
‘Of course we’re all hoping that we can calm down now that Michael and the others have been brought in. They’ll put this Mancini Corp to bed.’
Anthony put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. ‘Nice to finally meet you. I heard about your little adventure to Little Camberly Inn last night!’ He laughed.
‘Don’t encourage it!’ Scarlett said.
‘Boys will be boys.’ Anthony ruffled Michael’s hair.
‘I’ve learned my lesson with that one,’ Michael said.
‘Well, I think you’re the right man for the job,’ Anthony said, as if it were set in stone.
‘Thanks, but I’m not working alone. My new friends, my team members, they are all experts at something, like martial arts and engineering. I’m not all that outstanding in comparison. I can just hear Elisabetta’s voice from time to time.’
Anthony’s face expanded. His eyes as wide as they could be. ‘You are the one then?’
‘What?’
‘You are the one who hears from Elisabetta?’
‘So?’
Anthony looked at Scarlett. ‘Best not let our opposition know this.’
‘Why, what’s so important about that?’
‘You’ve a direct link to The Otherworld.’
‘What’s that mean?’
‘I’ve heard stories of The One.’ Anthony looked at Michael, then Scarlett as if he’d just discovered fire. ‘You’ve both taken a great risk coming here without serious protection.’
Scarlett looked at Michael. ‘He’s safe, we’re just here for the book. We’ll not be staying for long. Is it still in it’s safe place?’
‘Elisabetta’s book?’ Anthony asked. ‘Of course. It is, as sure as you’re standing in front of me. It is. But first, have some tea with me. I’ll put the kettle on. While I have a chance before you both leave.’ He rushed towards the kitchen behind the reception desk.
‘Any chance of a bacon sandwich, too? I’m starving,’ Scarlett asked.
Michael and Scarlett sat at a wooden table that looked prone to topple beneath countless stacks of books. They watched as Anthony ran back and forth from the cupboard to the fridge and from the fridge to the worktop. Obviously, Anthony didn’t get much company and was happy to have visitors.
‘You work here full time now?’ Scarlett asked.
‘Yes, sweetheart.’ He struggled.
Scarlett got up and helped him.
‘Well, then, my Irish friend, are you ready for an adventure?’ Anthony asked.
‘I suppose so. I hope I’m ready to live up to Elisabetta Sirani’s expectations. I still find it difficult to believe all of this is real. Everything feels surreal, like I’m dreaming it. It’s all happened so fast. He drank the water and the coffee. Once it was finished, he brought his dishes to the sink. Looking out of the window he saw three cars pull up. He felt his gut twitch. ‘I don’t like the looks of this.’
Scarlett shot up, sending the chair screeching behind her. She rushed to the window. ‘They’re definitely not here to window shop. And that car, the BMW, looks awfully similar to the car George said was at the gallery.’ She ran to the front door to make sure it was locked.
‘I locked it when we got here,’ Michael shouted.
Scarlett re-entered the kitchen, her Samsung pressed against her ear. ‘I’m calling George.’
‘We can all relax,’ Anthony said. ‘This place was built during the Second World War. Have you seen the bars on the windows? A bomb couldn’t get them in here.’
‘George, answer the damn phone!’ Scarlett shouted, ignoring Anthony’s reassurances.
They ran to the window and saw about ten men, all dressed in black suits standing on the footpath. Another man stepped out of a black BMW 6 Series. He was noticeably the one in charge; he looked a lot like Alejandro Garcia but a little heavier. He looked more relaxed. He shouted something at the others. They reminded Michael of the characters from the movie Hitman. Surely a quiet village like Little Camberly would be suspicious of these men and call the police? ‘Is that Mancini Director Garcia, the one in the grey suit, barking orders?’ Michael asked.
‘No, that’s his twin brother, Jose, too lazy to amount to anything. He lives in his twin brother’s shadow,’ Scarlett said, sounding bitter.
The suits all produced guns. One of them tried to break into Scarlett’s car. Michael’s heart began to race.
‘I’ll distract them while you get away,’ Anthony said.
‘You can’t fight them off,’ Michael said.
‘Michael, I’m too old and tired to run. I would only slow you down.’
‘You’re not staying here. And it’s not up for debate,’ Scarlett shouted. ‘Shit. George did say this would develop quickly. We’ve no
t planned for this.’
There were two loud knocks at the door, like metal hitting metal, sending vibrations through the floorboards.
‘We’ve got to get out of here, now!’ Michael shouted. ‘Do you have another way out?’
The barred window beside the front door smashed; shards of broken glass scattered all over the floor.
‘There’s an underground passage that leads to the lake,’ Anthony said, pointing at the kitchen table.
Anthony and Michael dragged the table away to reveal a rusty trap door in the ground with a blue paint flaking off.
‘Where’s the book?’ Michael shouted. ‘We can’t leave without it!’
‘It’s buried. It’ll take us ages to get it, it’s buried under the floor, below three foot of concrete and soil,’ Anthony said. Another knock came, this time with more force. ‘Leave the book, we’ll come back later for it.’
‘But what if they get their hands on it?’
‘They won’t find it, trust me.’
‘He’s right, Michael,’ Scarlett shouted. ‘There’s more chance of them getting it if they see you with it. We can’t risk them catching you and the book.’
‘Let’s go, then! Hurry up before they get through,’ Michael yelled.
Scarlett climbed down the steel ladder, disappearing further into the darkness of the underground tunnel. Anthony went next. Then Michael. Michael pulled the hatch closed above him just as the shop door burst open. Four steps from the bottom, he jumped off landing in a puddle of muddy water. His eyes tried to adjust, but there was very little to adjust to. ‘Not even a bomb could get them into the shop, huh?’ he sneered.
Anthony grunted in disbelief.
‘Let me go first,’ Michael said, using his phone’s torch.
He squeezed past Anthony. The path was the width of a doorway and so low that Michael could almost touch the top with his head. There was an overwhelming stench of stagnant water and sewage.
