Observation Two

Standing Divided

by Michael E. Lloyd

Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18, part 1

Chapter 18: Without You

part 2 of 2

The young geologists were indeed facing a very long journey in each other’s company. He could hardly have wished for a better situation: she felt rather differently. And Lucia, who would be inconspicuously with them, door-to-door, would be trying hard to stay neutral.

They hit the road, on plan, at two-fifteen. The atmosphere in the back of the cab set the tone for the next twelve hours.

‘So what did you say to Toni?’

‘I just asked him how he was feeling, and told him how sorry I was.’

‘About what ...?’

‘About his bad luck.’

She said no more. And their driver sighed to himself in exasperation at the way people who could afford to ride in cabs and airplanes would so often let crazy little things get in the way of simply loving life.

North West flight 4708 to Detroit. Two hours of minimal conversation. Then a forty-five minute transfer time.

‘Like a beer or a sandwich, Maelene?’

‘No. I brought something.’

North West flight 1273 to Minneapolis-St Paul. Two more hours of near silence. At one point she pulled out her notebook and wrote down the first three lines of a new song, then burst into tears. He tried to comfort her. She pushed him away.

Clocks back one hour. Eight in the evening in Minnesota. Over an hour to wait.

‘I need dinner, Maelene. So do you. Come on ...’

‘I need dinner, Sal. I need a lot more than that, but I’ll settle for dinner right now. And you have a business call to make ...’

North West flight 1045 to Billings. Another two hours. Salvatore’s meal-time beers sent him quickly to sleep. Maelene just stared out of the window into the northern blackness.

* * *

While the ill-matched new team had been winging its way to Montana, life back in Columbia had been returning to something approaching equilibrium. But only approaching.

Just thirty minutes before the cab had whisked Salvatore and Maelene off to the airport, the city’s Homeland Security agent had taken an urgent call from his controller.

‘Bill ... do we still have Murano in sight?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Thank heavens for that! So, where exactly was he at nine fifty-six this morning, Eastern Time?’

‘Lying in a hospital bed.’

‘What? You gotta be kidding!’

‘Nope. I was going to report it this afternoon, Ted. Figured there was no rush. He took a kicking from some low-lifes on the street last night. Random attack, no question. Head and rib injuries. Not serious, but he’ll be in there another twenty-four hours.’

‘Sheesh. Let me think a minute, here — OK, tell me everything he’s been getting up to in Columbia.’

‘Well, you know some of it already. He linked up with that pal from Italy who’s doing some research here with a geological exploration outfit called Forretan. Then there’s the woman who keeps turning up for a chat with him outdoors, and then disappearing again. He seems to know her well. Strange, that. She looks European too. And he’s spent some time touring the city, and he’s been hanging around the Forretan offices, and meeting one of their managers in the Park. And he’s already picked up, big time, on one of the local women who works in the building. She was with him and his pal when the mugging happened.’

‘Did he have any special communicating equipment with him this morning?’

‘What? No way! I looked at the hospital log of what he was carrying when they brought him in. Just his wallet and passport. Not even a cell phone. Girlfriend said the muggers ran off soon as they found some cash on him. And he’s been under constant observation even since. Heck, Ted, I dunno what else he may have done to make you so interested in him, but as far as I can see, the poor guy’s just a victim here ...’

And suddenly it dawned on Ted Ranovitz. Everyone else who had investigated Murano had been looking to blame him, to establish his complicity in whatever was going on around him. But what if he were instead its target ... its Victim? Then it all made sense. Someone, something was hounding him — in Bilbao, and then in Rome, and then with the kidnapping, and now in Columbia. Whatever this was all about, Antonio was the focus, not the agent of the action. Yes!

So now the way forward was clear. Nobody had any idea yet of what was going on. But to bring the kid in for more questioning, and add another level of pressure on him when he was obviously just trying to run away from whatever it was that had him in its sights, would do none of them any good at all.

No — a nice, easy, ongoing surveillance was still exactly what the doctor ordered. And maybe their subject would unknowingly lead them to the answer.

‘OK, Bill. I think I got the measure of this one at last. No change to your instructions. Continued undisclosed observation. Report when he’s about to leave town. Standard handoff when he does.’

* * *

Carla continued her own tacit observation of Toni throughout the afternoon and evening. Most of the time he was dozing or browsing steadily through the countless television channels, and she left him to relax. But at nine o’clock she felt he deserved a little company ...

‘Hola, amigo.’

‘Oh, hello, Carla. Thanks for coming in — it’s been very quiet since everyone left.’

‘So what have you been doing with yourself?’

‘I’ve been watching what they call “Reality TV”. From what I’ve seen over the past few days here, that’s the perfect name for it!’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well, they pretend that what they are showing is people doing what real people really do. Even though it patently isn’t. Even though it’s artificially constructed to entertain. But so many people obviously believe it. And then they seek to emulate it in their own real lives. And so it becomes reality. And the best bit of all is this: they show people watching Reality TV shows all the time! Which is, in reality, exactly what is now happening. The media has changed everyone’s behaviour, and removed most of their discrimination between truth and fiction — all in the space of a few years. It’s quite amazing!’

‘That’s very observant of you. It ties up very well with the conclusions we drew about political truths, when we were in Europe.’

‘Well, I don’t know much about that, Carla. But I am concerned about what the media in general is doing to people who ought to be acting and thinking a lot more for themselves ...’

‘I can see you feel rather strongly about this, Toni.’

‘Of course I do! I see it everywhere I look, these days — in Spain, all over Europe and now in America. A huge decline in literacy. Television dominates everything — most people don’t get their information about the world from any other source. But TV executives value ratings way above responsibility.

‘And if people aren’t watching TV, they’re playing electronic games, at home or on the Internet. Bending their brains to more and more mindless combat and superiority with every second that passes — and learning nothing new about the world except strategies for domination and survival.

‘And very few people actually read books these days. The novels you find on the shelves of the supermarkets are usually trite, fast-action melodramas for impatient readers who can’t wait for the next sensational event. The publishers print “Number 1 Bestseller” on all the front covers, before any of them has sold a single copy! And there’s no respect for classic narrative or descriptive style any more — even among the so-called literati. Even they say you need to shock or stun your reader in the first few paragraphs of a story, and then have lots of easily digestible dialogue, with plenty of comforting white space on every page, or you’re simply wasting your effort.

‘And most people have lost any concept of the need to write correctly. Spelling and grammar and punctuation — all the things I was taught to do properly, and I’m still only twenty! — well, they seem to have been completely abandoned in the last few years, with the arrival of e-mail and these new Internet “blogs”. Now people write without a care, and everyone copies each other’s cool bad style. And the trouble is, Carla, there’s no easy way back up that slippery slope ...

‘And it’s just the same with popular songs. I’ve read that in the sixties, older people used to complain that you couldn’t hear the lyrics clearly any more! Hah! At least they still had lyrics in those days.

‘The whole thing’s quite pathetic. And the people to blame are those who “manufacture” all that junk. They have it so easy now. They’ve cultivated their willing consumer base perfectly. Now it will just run and run. And they have no qualms about what they are doing to the quality of life. Anything to sell product to people who love never having to think for themselves!’

‘This is obviously a very big issue for you, Toni. But even assuming your judgement is correct, is it really so important? Aren’t there many other, much greater things to worry about?’

‘Ah, you can’t play that joker on me! Of course there are countless, huge problems that need attention, all over the world. But if you thoughtlessly let go of the progress and achievements that have been made over hundreds of years; if you relax, in the wink of an eye, the great standards that have been set by human civilisation — well, you’re carelessly breaking the very ice you need to stand on to reach out and handle all those other problems!’

‘Your passion suits you well, Toni. Don’t ever lose it. Mollify your demands, perhaps, but keep that passion!’

‘You know, Carla, there’s something I really wanted to ask you about. But I’m feeling really tired again, after that little outburst ...’

‘I’m not surprised. Ask me another time. Right now, you need to get some more rest. But listen — do you still think you’ll be fit enough to leave hospital in the morning?’

‘Oh, yes ... definitely.’

‘Good. In that case, if they don’t discharge you by eleven, please do it yourself! Goodnight now, Toni. Sleep as well as you can ...’

Toni was, all things considered, sleeping remarkably well when his bedside phone rang some time after midnight.

‘Hi, honey — it’s me. Sorry if I woke you ...’

‘No problem, Maelene! Where are you?’

‘Billings Airport, Montana. It’s half-past ten here. We’re waiting for Sal’s suitcase to come through, then we’ll take a cab to the hotel in Red Lodge. We should get there soon after midnight. I’m bushed already. And we still have to get a full briefing from the Chief as soon as we arrive!

‘But at least I can have a lie-in tomorrow morning. Sal fixed up our meeting with McGarran while we were in Minneapolis. We’re not seeing him till eleven ...’

‘Good. Well, I’m glad you’re OK. Thank you so much for calling.’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t, Toni? So, how are you feeling?’

‘Sore and tired. But I should get out tomorrow.’

‘Right — straight back to sleep, then! Speak to you soon ...’

* * *

Early the next morning, the nurse told her rather impatient patient that he would be able to leave if the outcome of his ten o’clock examination was satisfactory. He did not reveal his plan for unilateral action if it was not.

But all went well, and they sent him away with a bottle of strong painkillers and the even stronger advice to take plenty of rest. He held his counsel once again — he was in no mood for an argument.

Carla followed his cab back to the hotel. She gave him five minutes to recover from the discomfort of the walk along to his room, then greeted him as she emerged from the convenient privacy of the bathroom.

‘Hola, Toni. Marching orders now, I’m afraid. We’re off to Los Angeles. Please use the phone to book a flight out as soon as you can, and a hotel in the Business District.’

Toni groaned but did her irresistible bidding, grimacing regularly from his aches and pains while she looked on in sustained sympathy.

‘Right, it’s all fixed. I’m on the Delta flight just after three, to Atlanta, connecting with their six o’clock to LA. And I have a very nice hotel.’

‘Good. OK, I’ll follow you all the way, and give you a full briefing when the time is right — and I’ll see you when you get to your new room, whatever else happens. You’ve got plenty of time to pack now, nice and easy, and then get yourself some lunch in the bar before you leave ...’

‘Yes, ma’am!’

An hour later he was all set. He called reception to arrange check-out and a cab to the airport at one-thirty. And his other close pursuer, already aware that Antonio Murano was now out of hospital, was at once informed of their guest’s imminent departure from South Carolina.

To be continued ...