Back at the party, the Monk had busied himself flattering the Order's subordinates, trying to motivate them to work harder. Caught up by the wine and song, Dragan briefly forgot about Thame but a tap on his shoulder interrupted his fun.
"Sir, forgive my intrusion," the guard said in a Polish accent, "but your companion has left."
"Thank you. I thought as much."
"He was – uneasy. And in a rush."
"So he should be. Ormr is back then." The Monk smiled at Mirna, who returned the grin.
Dragan walked back to the hotel, relaxed by the alcohol and his apparent success in turning Thame. He was unaware of his shadow; the Polish guard, behind him. He slept for a few hours before making his way to the airport, his stalker remaining within twenty yards. Once the Monk was safely in the waiting lounge, he made a call.
"Sir, they've made contact. The Monk had a male companion, of the right age, at the ball. He must have left Italy earlier. Dragan's flight gets in from Rome at 1pm."
"Well done, Kristof. I'll be in touch."
The Captain hung up and Kristof headed off to board another flight. The airport crawled with the Captain's men. Every exit, eatery and toilet was under surveillance, awaiting Thame and the Monk's arrival. Word had got out and although nobody knew Thame's exact identity, they were prepped on his age and build. The Captain stood high up, surveying the scene.
At home, after a lengthy wait for his baggage, Thame headed back to his apartment.
The flight from Rome was busy with independent travellers, including six young men. The Captain dispatched a couple of his men to follow each potential. Surveillance had begun. The men, like wild cats, stayed low, inconspicuous, never letting their prizes out of sight.
The Captain pulled a man close. He was clean-cut and studious.
"Where are the rest of your people?"
"There were orders not to greet him, Sir, it was not needed." The mole answered.
"Unusual for Dragan."
"The orders came from another, at the top." The man sniffed.
"You can guarantee this?" The Captain says demanding confirmation.
"Sir. Affirmative."
"You have your orders then. Now go." The Captain commanded.
The Monk emerged from security, expecting to be greeted. Seeing no one waiting, he moved uneasily. He wanted full supervision at all times and this discrepancy in arrangements had never happened before.
"Sir!" The mole says ran up, panting. "Sorry I am late, Sir, awful traffic."
"Traffic? The airport should be on lockdown!" the Monk exclaimed angrily. "This is unacceptable!"
The mole stayed silent with his head bowed.
"Shall we go? I trust okay to move?"
The Mole subordinately nodded his head in agreement.
"Good." Dragan prodded him forward and the pair headed to the car park. Before reaching the car, making sure they were alone, the mole broke from protocol.
"Sir, thank goodness we are here, away from other's hearing. My tardiness is because of Lohikaarme."
"What is it?"
"He is in the city. They have tracked our Lord. We have accurate reports."
"This is big. We must seize momentum. Let's head for HQ and quickly. We must warn and protect our Lord."
YOU ARE READING
The Illumination
Fantasy*WATTYS2018 Longlisted* He saw a pair of eyes, his eyes. But they were elongated, angled and a deep, angry red... Thame is, on the surface, an average guy. Suffocated by the politics of his city job and his increasingly complicated love life, he se...
