A story inspired by Castello di Brolio - Episode 2
Another story inspired from a visit to an old castle in Italy. It was, of course, written while traveling on a plane, though I'm not sure if it was from Calgary to Toronto, or New York to Vancouver.
But, there's more to come. Those were long flights...
I calculated the odds. Twenty to one. I wasn't going to add Jack to the team, because he could never understand what was going on.
I was finding it hard myself. Someone I had trusted with my life, for a very long time, was not the person I thought they were.
That was the basis of the message I'd received. I hadn't believed it. Not at first. But it had one other piece of information as proof, one when I thought about, made sense of everything that had been happening.
The word coincidence had become overused in the last week.
Jack had found the passage when he and I had been doing some reconnaissance of the old castle. I thought it odd that no one knew of any secret passages when all of these old places usually had at least a few. The lord of the manor would want to be able to move about secretly, visiting mistresses, escaping from enemies, or just sneaking about checking up on staff and family
We'd found one that ran from the guard tower to the grand hall. A lot of cobwebs, a musty odor, and signs it hadn't been used for a long time, it was perfect for my soon to be unannounced arrival.
The passage ended at a large wooden cabinet which had a compartment that opened out into the hall. From within, it was possible to hear conversations and see a veiled view of any activity.
Johansson and my commander, Wallace. He was not supposed to be here, he'd been the one who sent me the warning, about another of the command officers, Nicholson.
I could see Wallace was angry. "I thought I told you I wanted this mess sorted out before I got here."
Just then Jackerby came in and looked flustered. "He's gone."
"What the hell do you mean, he's gone. Gone where, for God's sake. There's nowhere to go."
Who's gone, I wondered.
Jack was nudging my leg. What was he trying to tell me?
"He was in the south tower with that mangy dog of his, where he usually hangs out."
Me. They were referring to me.
"Then he can't be far. Find him and bring him, to me. Pity that bomb didn't kill him and we wouldn't be in this situation."
So, there was a traitor. It just wasn't who I thought it would be.
I kneeled down, "Well, Jack," I whispered. "It looks like we are both in serious trouble. What's say we get out of here?"
A lick on the side of my face told me all I needed to know.
© Charles Heath 2019