CHAPTER TWENTY - THE SEARCH FOR YOUNG MISS BELLI

Leon arrived at the stationhouse in Digne shortly after nine pm. Harrison greeted him warmly, exchanged courtesies and then the British investigator handed Leon the case files. They had met seven years ago at the police academy and had kept in touch ever since. Since both men were extremely busy and living on two different continents they rarely had time to meet so they were equally grateful for this opportunity to catch up. It was more than a year since the last time.

"You have no idea how relieved I am that you're here, man," Harrison said to his friend, stroking his hand through his hair. Leon shifted his gaze from the folder on Ayla Belli to the tall Englishman on the other side of the desk.

"Hey, I'm never too busy to help out an old friend, Eddie," he replied back with a boyish grin. He was wearing dark jeans, a navy blue shirt and a black leather jacket. His light brown hair still had the long, floppy cut. Harrison grimaced. He hated his middle name and apparently Leon was in a teasing mood. He decided to let it go. For now.

"So, how'd you persuade them to give you the time off anyway, and how'd you manage to get here so fast?" he asked in surprise. Leon emitted a low chuckle, when you single-handedly are responsible of rescuing the daughter of the President of the United States and stopping a coup against the States at the same time, it's not hard to ask for favours. Leon had personally met with the US President in the oval room where Mr. Graham had complimented him on a well accomplished mission and if there was anything he could do to show his appreciation, Leon should not hesitate to ask. Not only had the Secret Service agreed to give Leon time off for a couple of days, with full salary and an open return ticket to Dulles Airport in Washington D.C, but they had also flown him to Provence in a private jet.

"Ever since the incident in Spain last year, it's been US government at your service," Leon replied, returning his attention to the case file.

"About that, when we're on the road, I want the full story." The Kennedy report was classified of course, but as an Interpol agent investigating possible threats to international security, Harrison had full clearance.

"Didn't you read the report?" Leon put the file down and picked up the folder on Fiona Belli.

"Yeah, of course. The official part I pretty much know by heart, but I want to hear your version." He was especially curious about a certain rumour that was circulating amongst the agents about a woman in red, which had not been included in the official report. He thought it best not to bring it up now. It was a good five-hour drive to Piedmont, they could talk about it in the car. He looked at his watch.

"Hey, we should probably get going. I'll tell you more about the case and that castle when we're on the road. There is a place where you can change down the hall…" Harrison stopped mid-sentence. Leon didn't appear to be listening.

"Leon…?"

His eyes transfixed to the photo of the young girl, the American agent was completely absorbed in his own mind.

"Hey, LEON!"

"Huh? Sorry, mate. I got lost for a moment there. What'd you say?"

Harrison repeated what he'd just said. Leon nodded and disappeared through the doorway, taking his bag with him. Harrison lifted up the photo of Fiona. A lovely young girl smiled back at him. She was dressed in a white blouse and a black vest and her blonde hair was tucked back in a ponytail. Even from a black and white photo, the young woman radiated a strong, almost magnetic charisma. Yes, she was breathtakingly gorgeous. But nevertheless, Leon's strange behaviour puzzled him. Protective by nature and with a strong sense of duty, Leon S. Kennedy had always been extremely conscious about his responsibility as a police officer and later on as a special agent. He would never allow his emotions to guide his thoughts or decisions when on a mission. As far as he knew, Leon had never lost focus during a briefing like he had just a moment ago. Ever.

After a couple of minutes, Leon reappeared in the office wearing navy blue combat trousers, a high-necked charcoal grey t-shirt, black laced shoes and a tough tan leather jacket lined with sheepskin. Harrison had already changed into a black t-shirt and forest green army trousers. He put on his jacket, reported to Guillot and then the two men left for the Italian border in Harrison's car. The English detective was driving and Leon was riding shotgun. While waiting for Leon to arrive, Harrison had killed time by researching online, talking on the phone with Signora Casartelli and trying to get some sleep, but with all the adrenaline and caffeine floating in his system, rest had proved to be impossible. As they drove through Digne-les-Bains and Barcelonette they discussed the case and Harrison enlightened Leon about the enigmatic castle. After a few hours of digging up old, dusty parchments in the library, the Italian historian had managed to narrow down the castle's most likely whereabouts to an area of five square kilometres.

"Alchemy?" Leon looked puzzled, trying to remember the high school lessons on medieval history. Harrison nodded with enthusiasm.

"So the people that occupied the Belli castle tried to make themselves a quick fortune by creating gold, eh?"

"Apparently there's a lot more to alchemy than just making gold from base metals," Harrison opposed. He started to outline what he'd memorised over the last couple of hours. "As a part of the Occult Tradition, it is both a philosophy and a practice. With an aim of achieving ultimate wisdom as well as immortality, it involved the improvement of the alchemist as well as the making of several substances described as possessing unusual properties, such as the Philosophers' Stone. Moreover, the practical aspect of alchemy generated the basics of modern inorganic chemistry, specifically concerning procedures, equipment and the identification and use of many current substances."

Leon listened without interrupting. Harrison continued talking. "Alchemy, which is heavily related to astrology, has been practiced in Mesopotamia, Ancient Egypt, Persia, India, Japan, Korea and China, in Classical Greece and Rome, in the Muslim civilizations, and then in Europe up to the 20th century in a complex network of schools and philosophical systems spanning at least 2500 years. If we are to believe certain sources, alchemy is very much alive even today. In 1980, Swedish nuclear chemist Glenn Seaborg came very close to the mythical Philosopher's Stone of the ancient Alchemists when he transmuted several thousand atoms of bismuth into gold at the Lawrence Berkeley Laboratory. Unfortunately for him, the method proved to be far too expensive for industrial use."

Leon glanced at his partner and cooked a smile.

"Where'd you learn all of this, Johnny? Wikipedia?"

Harrison sighted. His old friend didn't seem to be very impressed by the mythical occult tradition.

"Look, I know Wikipedia isn't the most reliable source, but the references listed checked out," he replied. "I actually find the practice and philosophy quite fascinating."

Leon snorted in response. However mythical, complex or fascinating it might be, they were all aiming for the same thing, alchemists or not. Money, power and/or immortality. Certain things never change. Like human greed. Leon's eyes scanned the dark surroundings outside. A flashback. Rural Spain last year. On a mission to locate and rescue a young girl from an unidentified group of people. A religious cult. Villagers gone crazy. A medieval castle inhabited by malicious and blood thirsty zealots. What was meant to be a routine mission had soon turned to mayhem. Now he was on his way to an ancient, medieval castle in rural Italy to rescue a young girl believed to have been kidnapped by an unknown individual or individuals. What kind of evilness would he encounter now? He had a bad feeling about this.

Harrison interrupted his thoughts. "So tell me about those ganados and the Los Illuminados?" he prompted, like he had been reading Leon's mind. It was the topic of their conversation for the next hour. Leon told him all about the arrival, meeting the crazy villagers, the unlucky police officers, the equal unlucky Luis Sera, the castle, the island, the novistadores, the plaga infested wolfs, the intense battle with Salazar's right hand in the tunnels below the castle, how he rescued and lost Ashley Graham four times, Bitores Mendez, Ramon Salazar, Lord Saddler, even Jack Krauser. But not a word about a woman in red.

"So…" Harrison started, not sure how to form the question. He knew it was a delicate subject.

"There's this hot rumour going on that Ada Wong is alive and that she was in Spain during the event." Casually. Leon tensed and shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"She did?" Harrison arched an eyebrow. Leon said nothing, but his expression was answer enough. "So it is true. She is alive! What was she doing there?"

Leon raised his shoulders and gave a palms up. "You should know. That's your line of work," he said.

Harrison chuckled. "There's easier to get information about the Chinese triad than that woman. No one seems to know anything about her. Besides, our main focus now is Albert Wesker. According to our intelligence, he has left for Africa for unknown reasons." Now it was Leon's turn to raise an eyebrow. This was new to him.

" BSAA is going to send an agent down to investigate. Chris Redfield. You know him, right?"

Leon nodded. "Yeah, I know who he is."

"Have you heard anything from Ms. Wong?" he asked, trying to get back on the subject.

"Nope," Leon replied. "The last time I saw her, she was flying away in a helicopter with the sample of the las plagas in her hand," he snorted. Her taunting words when waving the purple cylinder victoriously in the air echoed in his mind. Don't worry I'll take good care of it.

"Hey, it's probably for the best," Harrison consoled. "The gal is smokin' hot, but she ain't the kind of woman you'd want to get involved with," he said with an exaggerated southern accent.

"Yeah." Leon couldn't object to that. For six years he'd believed that Ada had died in his arms, blaming himself for not being able to protect her like he should have as a police officer. Then it turns out she is alive and well. If what happened in Raccoon City really had meant something to her, she would have let him know that she was alive, if she cared about him, she would never have pressed the detonator while he and Ashley was still stuck on that damn island only throwing him a key and a you'd better get moving. Hell, if she really cared about him, she would never have put a gun to his head for goodness sake! Nevertheless, the woman in red still haunted his mind and he found himself daydreaming about her more than he cared to admit. Grabbing his bag from the backseat, he put on a Green Day CD. Harrison sensed Leon's uneasiness.

"You still think about her, don't you?"

"Yeah." Leon said, hitting play. The rock music roaring from the speakers meant that this conversation was over. Leon's last words almost drowned in the lyrics of American Idiot.

"Every damn day."

Nearing the Italian border, they pulled aside for a short snack. The menu was in French so Harrison ordered since Leon's vocabulary in the respective language was limited to bonjour and merci.

"Hey, about Ada, I didn't mean to stir up bad memories or anything like that. I'm sorry I brought it up," Harrison said after the waitress had gone. Leon leaned back and raised his hands.

"It's OK, don't worry about it Johnny. So what about you? Are you seeing someone?"

The question came unexpected. Harrison looked as he was about to say something and then he closed his mouth, exhaled and leaned back. Point taken. Both men chuckled. Neither felt like talking about their love life -or lack thereof. The waitress brought their meals, Leon got his baked beans and a seltzers and Harrison got served a tuna sandwich and a cappuccino. The English detective had a bad habit of drinking way to much coffee when working late and tonight had been no exception. After the seventh cup, his stomach had started to object, but his body was still craving caffeine so he'd ordered the Italian variant of coffee with milk hoping it would prove to be more to his liking than the French café au lait. He took one zip, turned up his nose and pushed the cup aside. Leon found it amusing, though he wasn't completely satisfied with his beverage either. He craved for a beer, but drinking alcohol when on a mission was out of the question. After fifteen minutes they were behind the wheels again. This time Leon drove and Harrison gave directions. He had a stack of notes and maps on his lap and a GPS in his hand. After driving for an eternity in the middle of nowhere, Harrison finally announced they were inside the search area. Though they had spotted several medieval constructions earlier, none of them had been Belli castle. The car rolled slowly over a narrow, rock-strewn forest road. It was in the middle of the night and the woods were thick, making the search virtually impossible. Leon had to agree that this was the perfect place to hide away a huge, ancient castle. They inched forward for another twenty minutes, scanning the thick vegetation intensely for any signs of lights, the silhouette of a fortress or a tower in the dark sky when suddenly the road surface changed from loose pebbles to stone bricks. The men exchanged looks. This was the first sign of human construction they had seen in a long time. Dimming the headlights, they continued on for another ten minutes, before the road ended at a huge, massive gate. They were now practically in the middle of the search area.

"We'd better go out and look around," Leon suggested. Harrison agreed. The men removed their jackets and strapped on brown leather shoulder holsters with sheaths, Leon's held a knife and Harrison's housed a gun. Leon had his gun attached to his belt. He also put on a pair of black fingerless gloves, parked the vehicle in a small curve by the road and killed the engine. The agents stepped out, locked the doors and walked up to the sturdy gate. As expected, it was practically bolted shut and there were no windows to climb, no bells to ring, no means to announce your arrival.

"I guess there's no welcome committee waiting for us on the other side," Harrison remarked.

"Yeah, no one's planning on open this door. If we want to get inside, we're gonna have to dig our own way in." Leon.

"Then we'd better start walking along the wall until we find a way in. The wall is far too high for us to climb." Leon agreed and the men walked into the forest. It was partially cloudy so the moon didn't provide much light. They had to rely on their flashlights. As they were stumbling over rocks, roots and branches, Leon noticed some mountains in the distance because the little moonlight there was reflected the layer of snow on the mountaintops.

"Hey, John. Those mountains over there, are we really this close to the Alps?

"Yeah, Piedmont, or Piemonte in Italian, is short for Ai piedi del monte, which means at the base of the mountain." Another fact he'd learned over the course of the night.

"Which way are we moving?" Leon wondered. Harrison checked his GPS. "Northeast," he responded.

"Do you have any idea how big this castle is?"

"Not sure." Harrison stopped to catch his breath. "No one really knows anything specific about this pl…AAACE…" Before he could finish his sentence, the English agent vanished into the earth.

"John! Hey, are you OK? Answer me!" Leon shouted into the black hole in the ground where Harrison had been standing just a short moment ago, shining his flashlight into the gap. But the English detective was dressed in dark clothing, making it hard to see him. Leon exhaled in relief when his friend shouted back at him.

"I'm OK. The fall isn't that high. And hey, I think I've found a way in. There's a tunnel down here, and according to the GPS, it goes under the wall." Leon jumped into the gap and the men started walking through the narrow subway. The GPS soon lost its signal. After ten yards, they were stopped by a stone blockade. The rocks appeared to be loose and with a solid kick from Harrison, the wall crumbled down. On the other side, they started to climb a ladder attached to a wall of stone. A tightly sealed wooden board prevented them from departing the underground shaft. Harrison tried to break it open with his shoulders, but the plate wouldn't budge. After several tries, he was beat and then Leon had a go at the wooden barrier. First he tried muscle force. The plate eventually moved a little. Then he coaxed his knife between the wood and the stone, prying the board lose bit by bit. It was a strenuous task and sweat was dripping from his forehead. Five minutes later it was Harrison's turn again. Their hard work eventually paid of and the cover came loose.

Leon climbed out of the shaft to the cool and fresh open air. He gave Harrison his hand and pulled him out in one go. The English detective had to sit down for a moment to catch his breath. Leon looked around. There were two open doors and a ladder leading into the immense building in front of them.

"Looks like we've entered the property through an old well," Leon noted. Harrison was sitting on the edge. His eyes fell on an oddly placed bench.

"Hey, have you seen the angle of that bench? Why is it placed like this?" he wondered. Leon's palms and shoulders shot up and down in a hasty move. Didn't know, didn't care. He jerked his head in the direction of one of the doors and started walking. Harrison followed.

"What do you make of this?" Harrison asked in bewilderment. Scratching his head, Leon shrugged, equally puzzled by the peculiar sight in front of them. Except for a massive bookcase lying on the floor, there was nothing unusual about the room.

"Why on earth would anyone place a wooden statue of a pregnant woman in a sofa inside a room filled with musical instruments?"

"Beats me," Leon said in response, still scratching his head. "Perhaps they have a thing for weird art," he suggested. The sculpture of the young woman with the large belly resembled the missing girl, but it also resembled dozens of other young, pregnant girls. Though Harrison remembered the pathologist's remark about the disfigured corpse that had given birth and felt a buzz of excitement.

"It looks to have been made quite recently, everything else in this room seems to be quite old," Leon said. The fact that the furniture was immaculately clean despite being antique didn't escape the men's trained eyes. There was something up above, but there were no stairs or any other means to get up there, and outside a fence blocked the path to the right so the men left the area and walked back to where they had entered the premises.

Back to the old well, Harrison suggested they split up to cover more ground faster. They turned on the radio, agreed on a frequency and then Leon went up the ladder while Harrison entered the other open door. Leon climbed onto a small veranda with one open doorway. On the other side of the entry was a small area filled with chemical research equipment, pots, books and old parchments. The equipment looked like something that had expired in the 18th century. A cauldron had been placed over a fire that was burning fiercely hot and a huge sculpture of earth stood to his left facing the wall.

"Yup, they sure got one helluva bizarre taste in art around here," he remarked and walked out to the hallway outside. He continued down a shady corridor that turned out to be a dead end. One of the chandeliers hung loose, making an eerie sound usually associated with haunted mansions. Not a good omen. There was nothing in the corridor except for a locked door and a dirty old painting of an angel. All the other doors had been left open. Taking out his gun, he carefully opened the rotted door and peeked inside. There was no one in the murky room on the other side so he lowered his gun. Compared to the other areas he'd seen so far, this place was dirty as hell. A chandelier had fallen to the floor and shattered tiles were strewn all around the place. There was also birdcage, a couple of chairs that looked like they would break if any one tried to sit on them and something that looked like a typewriter in a corner. Leon studied the device. When pressing the keys, the machine spitted out a thin plate engraved with the letters he had pressed. An old parchment and another thin plate lay on the floor. The parchment contained nonsense babble about "life from soil" and "ethereal guardian of alchemic secrets." It was the metal plate that made his eyes go wide. Leon quickly rose.

"That sonovabitch was right. She really is here." In his hand he held a plate engraved with the name FIONA. He put it in his pocket and turned to find Harrison. At that precise moment, a scream echoed through the building. Leon equipped his gun and stormed out of the room.

"John! Where are you?" No answer. Leon turned left and flew through a bending hallway. His heart nearly stopped when he spotted a column smeared with blood. He hasted up to it and leaned over the railing.

"John!" he called out. Another scream pierced his ears. Leon noticed the blood was several days old. It couldn't belong to his friend. Relieved but still fearful, he ran in the direction of where the sound had come from. Through a doorway, he saw Harrison crawling on the floor. His pants were smeared with blood and one leg had a disturbingly abnormal angle. The expression in his eyes was that of a haunted animal desperately fleeing from a predator.

"Leon," he screamed, his voice filled with desperation.

"Run!"

Wow, twenty chapters already! Now as Leon has arrived things will get even more interesting, though it doesn't look good for poor Harrison(credit goes to my boyfriend for Harrison's first name, and general advice). Thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far, I can't wait to hear your reactions to Leon's part of the story. Cheers, Lisa.