Saving Mr. Player

10. Too Loud For A Funeral

“So… this is your new paradise.”

Amy chimed, standing in the middle of the large white colored living room. It was a safe house, designed with glass walls and grey walled exterior that could be camouflaged with grey ammunition proof walls, build around a small simple grass lawn surrounded by twenty feet tall grey boundaries.

It was placed in the middle of an intelligence community that was planted for sting operations, where the rest of the intelligence and security officers lived around the in the neighboring homes as normal civilians under witness protection program.

Ben Grime was going to be put in the safe house, under the intelligence surveillance with the hopes that Jess would resurface to hunt Ben, and in the act, the Spanish Intelligence Forces will be able to catch him.

“You should know even when you are sleeping, you will be watched continuously by our people…” Amy warned him while he sat on the white couch, near to the large glass pane from which gave an exotic view of the backyard and the white furnaced pool area.

“The walls and the doors here are concrete and charged with thousand volts of currents, so don’t go anywhere them unless we ask you to or you just want to be turned into roasted human meat for no reason.”

Three guards rounded behind Ben, they wore simple civilian clothes, with polo shirts and capri pants. Two were male with blond hair and bowl cuts while one was a black-haired petite female.

“They will guide you with the rest of the plan, if you want to save your family, listen to them…” she shrugged, pulling the sleeves of her black formal coat up. Her attire was entirely formal, with a navy-blue coat and suit pants, over a white chiffon shirt. Her hair was tied in a neat bun, giving her a mature look.

“Guys, take care of him.” She signaled the three and they nodded. “In any case he tries escaping, cut one of his legs.”

She made her way out of the white walled, posh furnished corridor, while the female Sargent followed her out.

“Lieutenant!” she called Amy out, making her stop at the grey carved double door, “Do you really want us to cut his leg?”

Amy looked around the place for a while, trying to postulate the appropriate words until she shrugged, “If he tries to run.”

With that she put her sunglasses on and walked towards her black Prius, getting inside she drove off, leaving the team behind to deal with Ben.

Reaching her destination, she parked among the rows of expensive cooperate cars lined at the outskirts of the street. She got outside the car and walked her way in her formal boots, on the clean pavement road. She saw the rush of the journalists, cameras and reporters lined right outside the cemetery and memorial. The entire national and international media had surrounded the place; as it was the funeral and homage of world’s national star, a young football champion who was lost his live – Paul Davic.

She groaned and hid her face behind her palm, hiding from the media, fearing they will immediately recognize her. Given journalists were her biggest enemies so she avoided clashing with them and made her way towards the backside of the cemetery which was opened for security personnel and other people who cared about their privacy.

Two large guards in tuxedo stood at the entrance created with barrier ropes circled around the entire cemetery. They held their palms towards Amy, while one of the large men stepped ahead, asking Amy for her ID, she sleekly moved her coat aside and flashed her police badge and they immediately lifted the rope, letting her in. She entered among the rows of people lined behind posh covered chairs, all lined in front of a black coffin, which was now closed, and people were moving towards the burial of the departed. A picture frame of young Paul in his first team jersey was placed on a round table set up with flowers scattered around it. While a larger frame of the backside of his jersey was set up, depicting his name and number ‘Davič – 15’.

A close group of security was following a hurdle of about twenty people and walked them safely in private eye, even shielding from the cameras that were trying to catch a glimpse. Amy walked her way from the crowd that was standing, each person that stood with pois and manner, exhibiting class gave her stink filled gaze yet she still passed them, faking excuses and smile and spotted Arturo who was sitting on a farther corner, among the last of the rows, which was closer to her.

She squabbled through the entire row, where all women and men, sitting in an elite manner gave her disgusted looks for acting imbecilic. Sensing people’s murmur and annoyed groans, Arturo looked up and saw Amy coming his way. He simply shook his head and cleared his eyes, that had tears submerged in the corner. He moved to the other empty chair besides him, making place for Amy who immediately sat down and sighed in relief, while the entire row was still passing her disgusted gaze.

“Sorry I missed the service.” She whispered at Arturo, keeping her face straight ahead, watching Paul’s team stand beside his coffin as it was being lifted down in the grave, while a priest read the final words.

“Is Ben all set?” He asked, keeping his gaze ahead.

“Perfectly!” she nodded with convicted confidence. “Did you talk to the team managers and their security teams?”

“I talked to the teams.” Arturo nodded slightly, postulating his next words carefully, suppressing his volume, “… and their managers have agreed for an hour meeting with the team.”

“What!” Amy startled looking at him, earning everyone’s gaze including the priest who stopped to turn and look at the crowd, but decisively continued.

“Keep your voice low.” Arturo scolded her.

She immediately straightened up, “What do you mean, an hour meeting? We are supposed to have them agree with us for this, I have an entire team prepared with plans.” She whispered looking ahead.

People in the entire crowd that were seated had started turning around to give her a disapproving look, but they were the least of her concerns.

“It’s a funeral service of one of their team members, what do you expect me to do? Argue with them at this time? What am I a monster?” Arturo argued back in slow whispers.

“Yes!” Amy whispered back, “Argue with them so that there isn’t another team member’s funeral!”

“Excuse me?”

A few people turned their head giving Amy a questioning look.

Arturo rolled his eyes and pulled Amy aside from the crowd, realizing he can’t have that argument among other civilians.

“Listen Amy, this is the best I could’ve gotten, why don’t we talk this out when we meet them for a lunch after service at the wake.”

Amy’s eyes gaped open, realizing what Arturo was up to. She gasped.

“You did all this just for the sake of a lunch?”

Arturo stole his gaze away, guilty of using the situation to have lunch with his favorite football team. He immediately turned around and rushed within the crowd that was all getting up to leave towards the nearby hotel, where the after-service brunch and wake was being held.

Amy followed him within the crowd, making her way towards the entourage of the entire football team who were walking towards the other end of the cemetery where their cars were waiting for them.

People were hording her passage, so she pushed her way, earning gasps and slight screams from people until she finally forcefully pushed through a tall man but he immediately pulled back, making Amy stumble down directly due to the force.

“Ouch!” she whimpered, landing on her face but immediately got up again with much force, head butting directly into another man.

“Ops! Sorry.” She crumpled her nose, touching her forehead. She gasped looking at the first-class cars, transporting the football team leave the cemetery.

“Are you crazy?” A strong male voice spoke up, grabbing her attention off the luxurious cars.

She groaned, irritated at already lagging, “Listen, I said I am sorry!”

Her rude stealth toned down and her eyes opened wide, looking at the man she bumped into. Standing in front of her, holding his hands across his chest was none other than, Alessandro Ricci.

-----------------------------------------------------