Chapter 26 - Under observation
“Status report,” commanded Agent Angel, his voice echoing around the bunker.
He was dressed in black, army fatigues which were warm as well as waterproof. It was damp underground, and years of dripping water mixed with rusting metal had made the solid concrete walls look as if they were stained with blood. Two small but powerful, orange floodlights lit up the area and made the walls look even more gruesome. The tunnels had been built after World War II and had not been used since the early nineties. The years of neglect could be sensed with every inward breath.
If this had been an OSS facility, there was no way it would have been left to fall into such disrepair, thought Agent Angel. But one man’s loss is another’s gain and now they were there they were going to make the most of it.
Eighteen hours earlier a skeleton crew of trusted OSS operatives, all dressed in the same black fatigues, had boarded the plane from the USA to Europe. They consisted of cooks, technicians, doctors, strategists, soldiers and scientists, including Jean Kurtz. Agent Hoover had stayed back to monitor the situation from his observation room.
“Status report,” boomed Agent Angel for the second time.
His voice echoed further down the forgotten tunnels, and it was not friendly. Agent Angel did not like being kept waiting.
“We are good to go in ten,” answered a techie running between computer equipment and a generator.
Silently, Agent Angel counted down from ten. When he reached zero, the generator rumbled loudly into life, and the computers turned on one by one. He didn’t waste time congratulating his team for their hard work.
“Patch me through to Hoover.”
In front of him an operation's centre consisting of computers, surveillance apparatus and communications equipment, was now functional. A little further down the tunnel stood an artillery rack, full of everything from grenades to sub-machine guns to rocket launchers. Side tunnels had been turned into temporary living quarters and, a kilometre away at the tunnel entrance were his private OSS army guarding their location. He was not impressed with the OSS teams’ achievements in such a short space of time and with so little sleep. He expected it, and anything less would not have been good enough.
Hoover’s chubby, red face appeared on one of the five screens.
“I’ve been off the radar for two hours now, Hoover. Tell me what’s happening and make it fast.”
Agent Hoover swallowed hard and began, “Professor Schwarzkopf is on his way, Sir. ETA eleven hours. Team Omega are all in position in Pompeii. They are keeping the Elf and Street Kid under close observation. They are currently watching the two of them digging not far from the Vesuvian gate, on a square north of the Forum. Our Enquiry Team are continuing to investigate the possible location of the remaining pod.
“Send them home!” barked Agent Angel.
“But Sir, they haven’t completed their mission.”
“Don’t argue with me Hoover. We know the pod is in this area and suddenly two of our suspects turn up. That’s neither a coincidence nor divine intervention. They’ll lead us to the pod and then Team Omega will take it from there. Now send the Enquiry Team back home. Watch those screens like a hawk and send us all the feed we need.”
“Yes Sir,” answered Agent Hoover, relieved to end the conversation.
Back in the bunker, the four blank screens suddenly flashed on. Each showed the same scene but from different angles - a party of brightly dressed school children happily digging.
They were in a wide, open area enclosed by two small villas, a cobbled street and a toilet block. Red and white tape prevented tourists from entering their dig site, although many stopped to watch the students as they walked past. A dark skinned girl was standing in the centre of the PAIS school group, surrounded by her peers. She was gazing from the sea to Vesuvius and back again.
Ursula could not decide if being an archaeologist was either really interesting or really boring. It was like having lots of turns in a lucky dip box but without knowing if there were any prizes left. The only thing she was certain of was that it was dirty work. All the students were covered in dust, and none of their colourful clothes were clean. It was also hard work, and she was thankful that it was not yet the height of summer.
They had each been given a trowel or small spade and a paint brush. They had been told to dig a bit, move their dirt a bit and brush a bit. Most of the children could follow these simple instructions though some secretly wondered why they couldn’t just use a digger instead.
As Ursula sat back down to dig again, she caught site of the two American tourists she had seen the previous day. They had been joined by four more. They were big and looked the same size as American footballers, but they were not wearing any padding. Baseball caps advertising teams she had never heard of and wrap-around sunglasses hid their faces. They were wearing Bermuda shirts so bright that everybody’s eyes were drawn to the patterned material. The ‘tourist’ in the Cub’s cap looked straight at Ursula and flashed her a smile. It was not friendly. Ursula faked a smile back and returned to her work.
From a bench near to the children, Andrea took another six photos and sent them to Alexander via her phone.
Alexander and Eric looked like father and son enjoying the delights of Pompeii. They were both wearing Italian football shirts and matching caps. Eric was carrying a miniature football which he would throw up in the air and catch. Both were holding audio guides to their ears and occasionally they would stop and look at a plan of Pompeii they had bought at the entrance. Alexander was also holding a Nordic pole in his hand. Since the morning he had developed a limp.
At certain points on their tour, they would stop, type the appropriate number into their audio guide and then a voice would tell them some historical information. Unlike other tourists, their tour was not a circular route. Instead, it took them in a straight line from the Marine Gate along the Via dell’Abbondanza to the spot where Alexander had found the pod twelve years previously. On the way, they pretended to be interested in the Basilica, the House of Amarantus and the House of Loreius Tiburtus, so as not to attract unwanted attention. However, they had only two goals: firstly, to find the pod and secondly, to make sure the OSS did not find them.
At the last major villa on the road, Alexander stopped Eric, and they both walked inside. It was called the House of Venus in the Sea Shell. There was a small group of Spanish tourists wandering around, but otherwise it was empty. Alexander led Eric to the rear of the house and stood in front of the beautiful mosaic which gave the house its name. They put the audio guides close to their ears, but they were not turned on and instead Alexander spoke.
“Behind this house is a field containing a few trees and bushes. This is where Ursula’s pod landed. Fourteen years ago this area was being excavated, and the archaeologists discovered a tunnel dug by Roman looters over nineteen hundred years ago. Ancient tunnels often mean all the best artefacts have already been removed, and it is my understanding that, after a hurried look, the archaeologists abandoned their excavations and moved on. Pompeii is a vast dig site and archaeologists are not as patient as is to be believed. As you already know, I pushed the pod down this hole and attempted to bury it. I covered the hole with timber that was laying around, covered this with mounds of dirt and then left. It is my sincerest hope that it has been left but...”
The Spanish group filed past the mosaic in front of them, and Alexander stopped talking.
When they had gone Eric asked, “Are we still going ahead with our plans?”
“Yes,” replied Alexander trying to sound confident. “Let’s go.”
It was almost eleven o’clock, and there were many tourists walking around. Alexander checked his phone to make sure none of them were OSS agents and then left the House of Venus in the Sea Shell. A group of German tourists talking loudly strolled past them, and they joined the back of their group toward the Sarno Gate
way.
Eric was throwing his ball up in the air and catching it, waiting for the sign from Alexander.
“Throw the ball to me, son,” instructed Alexander jovially after a few seconds.
“Okay Dad, I’ll make it a big throw,” replied Eric, skipping to the other side of the road.
He looked at Alexander and threw him the ball, which sailed over Alexander’s head, over an ancient wall and into the field behind.
“Oh, Dad, my ball,” said Eric disappointed, bounding over to Alexander. “That’s my favourite one.”
“Don’t worry son, I’m sure we can find it.”
They both leap-frogged over the wall and into the field beyond.
After much thought, Ursula had decided that excavation was actually quite enjoyable. About twenty minutes earlier Molly had found a piece of ceramic. Normally, a bit of smashed plate would not have interested Ursula but this piece was different. This piece had been used by Romans, had experienced a volcanic eruption and had been buried under ash, pumice and earth for nearly two thousand years. Their tour guide, who was also an archaeologist and their dig manager, explained that it was indeed Roman and that there was sure to be more. The children’s enthusiasm for the dig increased tenfold with this comment.
As Ursula looked around her, she could see that all her classmates were busy chatting and digging, trying to find more pieces. Beyond them, roughly circling their group, were the six American tourists in loud Bermuda shirts. They seemed to have an unhealthy interest in the school group and one person in particular.
If they are here, thought Ursula, they are not with Eric and Alexander, and that’s perfect. She focused hard and sent this thought to Eric.
Eric smiled and told Alexander that the OSS were still with Ursula as the two of them continued to hunt for his ball. Nobody gave them a second glance. The tourists were far more interested in the historic sites than a father and son looking for a ball in an overgrown field.
After a quarter of an hour, a severe looking Pompeii guide asked them what they were doing. Alexander replied in bad Italian that his son had lost his ball. The guide relaxed, asked them not to be too long and walked away.
“Where did you bury it?” asked Eric. “We can’t spend much longer here; another guide will turn up and ask the same question.”
“I know,” replied Alexander, becoming tense, “but it was at night, and it was many years ago, and it was dark. A degree of patience would be appreciated.”
Another fifteen minutes passed and, apart from the ball, nothing else had been found. They decided that staying any longer in the field would make people suspicious and left.
As they walked back along Via dell’Abbondanza, Alexander said brightly, “Let us concentrate on the positives. Judging by the amount of vegetation I think it is safe to conclude that the area we have just searched has not been used for a number of years. If this is the case, then I think we can also rightly assume that the pod is still there, under the surface.”
“You’re right,” replied Eric gloomily, “but if we are realistic, we can say that Plan A has failed. Now we have to go with Plan B, and we both know that Plan B’s success is down to faith or luck and is more dangerous.”
“Needs must. Needs must.”
They walked on in silence. Alexander took his phone from his pocket and texted Andrea the letter ‘B.'
Deep in the pocket of her leather jacket, Andrea’s phone buzzed. She looked at the message. The time was eleven forty-three a.m., or seventeen minutes until Plan B could begin. She was sat on a bench near the dig area and beside her was one of the black hold-alls. Among the throng of children, Ursula was happily digging and chatting to Molly. A few children away Miss Evans was busily digging with the three other teachers, her face bright red with the effort.
“Miss Evans,” shouted Andrea.
“Yes dear,” she answered, pleased with the excuse to have a short break.
“It will be lunch soon.”
Even though she was talking with Molly, Ursula noticed the single letter in Andrea’s sentence.
“Oh yes,” replied Miss Evans, looking at her watch. “We’ll stop at twelve and then go to the restaurant.”
At twelve, as good as her word, Miss Evans brought the dig to a halt. She gathered the children around her and complimented them on their work. The six OSS agents took a step forward.
“Well done and good digging! Now it is time to go to the restaurant for some food.”
Ursula put her hand up, “But Miss Evans I’m filthy. I can’t go into a restaurant like this.”
“I really don’t think it matters that much, but I guess that it would be a good idea if we all went into the toilet block and freshened up.”
“But Miss Evans,” Ursula whined, “I’ll still be filthy. I can’t wash my clothes as well.”
Molly joined in, “We’ll be thrown out of the restaurant, and we’ll get dirt in our food. We should have bought some spare clothes.”
Some of the other children joined in, and soon most of the year group were grumbling.
“Boys and girls!” shouted Miss Evans above the ruckus. “The restaurant is quite used to dirty archaeologists and, to be fair, there really isn’t much else we can do about it.”
“Miss Evans,” said Andrea, walking towards the group with the hold-all, “maybe I can help. In his spare time, the late Mr Meyer liked to excavate. He always took spare clothes for lunch. When he became involved in this trip, he instructed me to have some spare clothes ready for all the children.”
From the hold-all, Andrea produced a brown, long-sleeved top, khaki trousers, sunglasses and a wide-brimmed khaki hat.
“There is one set of these for each child and each piece has the PAIS logo on it. They are a gift from the Meyer foundation. One size fits all.”
The children cheered, and Miss Evans thanked Andrea for her kindness before organizing the classes.
“Okay, Year 7, please form an orderly line and then go into the toilets to wash and change.”
Behind the toilet block, their backs against the wall and listening carefully, were Eric and Alexander. Eric had changed out of the Italian football shirt and cap. He was now wearing a bright red T-shirt with a colourful target painted on the front.
“Time to rumble,” announced Alexander, quietly giving Eric a bunk up to the small toilet window into the boy’s section of the block.
“Good luck,” he wished as Eric disappeared from view. “I’ll see you later.”
“You had better,” whispered Eric from inside.
The Year 7 children had not formed an orderly line; in fact, they had stampeded like elephants towards Andrea. At the front of the queue was Ursula. After she had been given her bag of clothes and was walking towards the toilet block, Andrea appeared to have difficulty in removing the rest. Once Ursula was inside, the clothes came out of the hold-all easily and quickly. The children grabbed theirs and piled towards the block too. In just over a minute, all the children were inside getting changed.
Andrea motioned to the adults to join her. The four teachers stood in front of her with their backs to the toilet block while Andrea rummaged inside her hold-all, looking for the teacher’s T-shirts. All the time she had one eye on the outside of the toilets.
From the boy’s entrance, Eric stepped out and stood there looking around. He did a visual sweep of the area and made eye contact with each of the six OSS team members.
In his surveillance room back in the States, Agent Hoover almost fell out of the chair he was wedged into. He didn’t need to report the news to Agent Angel as the OSS chief was watching the same feed.
“It’s the boy!” roared Agent Angel, his voice booming down the tunnels. “It’s the boy! Take him out!”
Team Omega scrambled across the dig site towards Eric, who sprinted away like a one hundred metre champion but then they stopped.
Ursula could feel that Eric was scared as she climbed out of the to
ilet window. She did not feel too differently herself. Alexander was waiting for her and the moment her feet hit the ground he put Eric’s Italian football shirt and matching cap on her. She took his hand and together they walked quickly away.
The sudden appearance of Eric and his sprint away had confused Team Omega. Should they follow their order and stay with the girl or follow the boy? Rather than pursue him they stood, momentarily, wondering what to do. Their heads moved between the toilet block, where they knew Ursula was, and the fleeing boy.
Agent Angel brought an end to their indecision and roared down their earpieces, “What are you doing? Agents Alpha, Beta and Gamma - the boy! Go, go, go, damn it! Agents Delta, Ypsilon and Zeta stay with the other two suspects.” He then turned his attention to the operatives in front of him and Agent Hoover back in America. “When the girl comes out of that john make sure you keep every available camera and satellite on her and find me that boy too.”
By the time the teachers had their new T-shirts and had turned around, the toilet area had returned to calm. Eric was nowhere to be seen, and there were only three tourists left in Bermuda shirts. As the teachers entered the block themselves, thirty identically dressed children left and mingled outside. The long-sleeve tops were too long and covered the children’s hands; the hats flopped down to their shoulders, and the sunglasses were large. However, no one seemed to care.
Neither the three remaining agents, the operatives in the bunker nor Agent Hoover could work out which child was Ursula. Even as they followed the children to the restaurant they were unable to pinpoint her.
Andrea calmly picked up the hold-all. She followed the three agents and the children to the restaurant. The dig site was now empty, and as she walked across it, no one noticed her.
Down at the field, next to the House of Venus in the Sea Shell, Ursula and Alexander were busily searching for the pod. It had taken them twelve minutes to get there, and they thought they had only about another twelve minutes before the OSS realized that Ursula was missing.
“Just relax,” Alexander encouraged Ursula. “Walk around and see if you feel anything. If a diviner can use a stick to find water underground, why can’t you find your pod?”
“I’ll try,” she answered, “but I’m not feeling very relaxed.”
“Is Eric okay?”
Ursula focused her mind on Eric.
“Yes, he’s fine. He’s in the girl’s toilet at the restaurant. He lost the OSS.”
“Then there is nothing to worry about. Come on, concentrate on that pod.”
In rapidly decreasing circles, Ursula moved quickly across the field; Alexander walked behind her. Shortly after she had started, she stopped.
“It’s here, below me, I can feel it.”
Lifting his Nordic pole high above his head Alexander brought it down hard and fast into the ground. The point of the pole had been specially sharpened. It broke through the top soil with ease, pierced timber and then met no resistance. Alexander fell to his knees and dug around the pole with his hands. After twenty centimetres, he reached the wood.
“You’re right,” he said gleefully.
Quickly he refilled the hole and taking a small phial of liquid from his pocket, sprinkled its contents around the hole.
“What’s that?” asked Ursula.
“It will be seen by UV light. It will help us find the spot later. If you can’t find it again, that is. Come on, let’s go.”
They jogged to the wall, jumped over and walked out of Pompeii via the Sarno gateway.
About the same time as they were leaving, the three OSS agents in the restaurant realized that Ursula was not there. They were sat at a plastic table together drinking colas and watching the children.
Agent Delta put his finger to his ear and said, “The street kid has vanished. I repeat; the street kid has vanished.”
The three agents paid for their drinks and left.
Agents Alpha, Beta and Gamma had not fared any better. They had run after Eric but, by the time they began their pursuit, he had already disappeared. Since then they had run around half of Pompeii trying to locate him.
Agent Alpha put his finger to his ear and said, “The boy has vanished. He’s somewhere in Pompeii, but we don’t know where.”
Lunch had been eaten, and the children were eager to return to their digging. Miss Evans was sat on a table with Andrea and the other teachers. She stood up and, pointing at each child, counted. There were thirty children.
“Oh my goodness,” she said to the other teachers and Andrea, “we appear to be missing one.”
Looking up, Andrea said helpfully, “I saw Ursula going to the toilet. I will go and have a look.”
Eric was in the girl’s toilet, waiting in a cubicle and putting on the same outfit as the other children. The clothes had been hidden there, and Andrea knew exactly which cubicle to approach.
“Are you here, Eric?” asked Andrea as she entered.
“Yes,” he replied somewhat sulkily.
Andrea went back into the restaurant, where she found the children lining up and ready to leave. At the back of the line stood Miss Evans, and Andrea approached her.
“I am afraid that Ursula is not feeling well,” she explained, “I will take her back to the hotel.”
“Oh! What a shame. I’ll leave her with you then, thank you,” and Miss Evans told the children to go.
As the Year 7 children and teachers walked out of the restaurant, Eric came out of the girl’s toilet. His head was held low so no one could see his face under the floppy hat, and he clutched his stomach. Andrea put her arm around him, and they followed the PAIS tour group at a safe distance.
At a crossroads, the Year 7 children headed left towards the dig site. Eric and Andrea turned right and headed for the Marine gateway and out of Pompeii.
“How can we lose both our target and two suspects? How can we lose two kids?” roared Agent Angel at everybody.
No one dared respond.
“Run back all the video recordings we have,” he ordered. “I want to know how the hell this happened!”
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