The Recalling

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It was rather cold for an April evening in Cannes. I was alone at home watching reruns of General Hospital. I hadn't had many nights alone like this after mom came back. The clock struck five as I walked towards the kitchen. I stared at the picture that hung in the hallway. I always felt like the man in the picture was watching me. As a kid it used to freak me out, but now I had gotten used to it. Nowadays I stare back. The picture was of Walt Whitman, my father's favourite poet. I started making tea for myself. I chuckled as I recalled my friends calling me British for preferring tea over coffee always. I walked back to the living room when I heard the doorbell ring.

Dad must've forgotten his briefcase again, I thought. I set down my cup of tea at the table and went to answer the door. I was rather surprised when I didn't see dad at the door. I was also surprised the man standing there wasn't French. He was a stranger for sure, but seemed vaguely familiar.

"Hi Ben, I'm Simon. I'm a colleague of your fathers," said the man introducing himself.

His name took be back. I tried to place him, but couldn't.

"Have I met you before?" I asked, hoping he could provide some insight.

"Yes, we celebrated Christmas of '96 together. You were a kid then, "he replied.

I started recollecting, but the figure in front of me didn't resemble the Uncle Simon I knew at all.

"You certainly have changed over the years, Mr Simon," I joked nervously.

"I sure have Benny. Listen, can I come in? I have something important to tell you. It's about your dad."

"Sure, come in. I hope everything is okay?"

"I'll tell you everything, but I think you should sit down for this," he replied, walking towards the living room.

My thoughts started to bother me. I started contemplating the worst case scenarios. What if he met with an accident? He did take a peg of Jack before he left. But that was usual.

I sat down across from him at the table. I noticed my tea and went for it. He picked it up and offered it to me.

"Now listen, Ben. What I am about to say might come as a shock to you," said Simon.

"They had an accident didn't they? " I asked, as I kept my cup back on the table.

"I wish, but I'm afraid that's not the case. Ben, your dad used to be an undercover agent for Interpol."

Now I felt the shock he mentioned earlier. It was one of those moments you would go like 'yea right'. But the still face of Simon made me realize he wasn't kidding. I decided I should hear more of what he had to say before I reacted. But my instinct of surprise took over and I asked rather rhetorically.

"You're kidding right? I know am not Einstein or anything, but if my dad had anything to do with such things, I'm pretty sure I would have noticed."

"No you wouldn't have. Nobody could. He was the best we ever had," he replied with a smidge of pride one has when they remembered the good old days.

I noticed that he was as rigid as ever when he spoke. He was also rather convincing. So I decided to listen before I made a fool out of myself.

"I don't have much time. Your dad's identity has been compromised and he is in hiding. Your dad worked on one of the most important cases in history, The Mona Lisa theft of 1994. Your dad was the one who recovered the painting from the US and brought it back to France. And the reason he settled here is also to safeguard the painting. Ben, the painting in the Louvre is not the Da-Vinci original. It's a mere replica. The real painting is in this house."