Story Notes: I'm very happy with the way this story is writing up. The lengthened chapters are challenging, but I'm enjoying them. The story may still be longer than I first thought. In some instances here, I have added more dialogue, particularly when he's introduced to the emir. Since they already know each other, it would make sense to have some dialogue. It's not much, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. All the music by Franco Piersanti is from the Italian TV Series, Montalbano. It prompted such lovely sights, so I decided to write with the music playing in the background.
Chapter Summary: Tintin and Haddock arrive at the Villa, but it brings more surprises than originally thought. When Bianca insists on them staying overnight, the truth reveals itself in a twist Tintin didn't see coming.
Suggested Music
1. Air On A G String (Bach) - Martynas
2. La Verità Finale - Franco Piersanti
3. Natale A Vigata - Franco Piersanti
Chapter 2
Antonin's eyes remained transfixed on the picture of Endaddine in the newspaper. Taking a quick sip of his coffee, his mind viciously buzzed. The image of Endaddine reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who.
I know your face.
I need to discover more about this man, Antonin thought as he folded the paper and turned back towards his colleague. Despite this, his focus still returned to him, examining the face lines carefully.
Augustin is trying to find this man. What is Endaddine isn't quite the man he says he is?
Antonin couldn't shake it.
I can't let this go.
"Pierre, do we have any intel on this Endaddine?" Antonin enquired, motioning to the picture in the paper.
Pierre grasped the paper, peering over his sunglasses to examine the picture.
"Not that I know of. If I'm honest, I have no idea who he is. Why?"
"My son is in Ischia. He's trying to track him down,"
"Tintin's here? Wow, Your son gets everywhere," Pierre exclaimed with a smile. "I can look into it,"
"Please do. Endaddine reminds me of someone ... I just can't put my finger on it,"
Something about this doesn't seem right.
x
After emerging from the car Haddock and Tintin were ushered into the Villa, meeting Bianca in the reception.
"My dear, dear friends, carissimi!" Bianca exclaimed, planting a quick kiss on their cheeks before excitedly leading them into another room. "Come, I simply must introduce you to everyone," She continued as she descended upon an elegant woman in dark glasses, adoring a blue dress.
Tintin's gaze cast across the room as Bianca introduced the lady to Haddock.
Gosh, what a beautiful place. Usual art covered the walls. He couldn't begin to understand or imagine who had created such an abstract piece of work. His attention turned back to Haddock just in time to see him bow low, and the woman inadvertently smacked her hand straight into his cheek.
Tintin held in a smile as Bianca spoke.
"My dear friend, how could you have guessed that a simple sailor knew how to kiss hands,"
As Haddock rubbed his jaw, Snowy yelped and rushed behind his legs.
"What's up?" Tintin questioned softly. Kneeling beside his companion, he spotted a poodle strutting away. She wasn't impressed. Tintin shook his head, gave him a quick stroke then stood up. Another two gentlemen entered the room, and he froze.
Great Snakes, what are they doing here?
Tintin stepped back slightly, attempting to control his rapid blinking.
"This is Mr Gibbons. He's in import-export..." Bianca continued.
I remember you, Tintin thought. His skin and stomach tingled with discomfort as he recalled the events in China. Mr Gibbons didn't say a word, but his defensively crossed arms gave him all the indications he needed.
"Mr Trickler, director of an important oil company ..."
Don't think for one moment I've forgotten about your actions in San Theodoros.
A small hmm sounded from Mr Tricklers lips as he looked Tintin up and down. Somehow he guessed the feeling was mutual.
Tintin bit his bottom lip, then cleared his throat. Snowy kept close to him, staying behind his legs. His hands wandered slightly, forcing him to place them behind him and grip tightly to keep them in place. His curiosity had disappeared, leaving him rather uncomfortable, especially in front of two men who had attempted to get rid of him. As a flash of a white head appeared in his peripheral vision, a smile immediately spread across his face.
"Ben Kalish Ezab!" Tintin exclaimed.
"Tintin! Haddock! How good to see you again," The Emir exclaimed, striding straight up to the pair of them.
As Gibbons and Trickler slunk from the room, Tintin finally relaxed.
"What brings you to Italy?"
"A short holiday," Tintin quickly replied."A friend said the area is beautiful, and we decided to check it out,"
"You made the right choice. Ischia is beautiful at this time of the year. I hope you both enjoy your stay,"
After a long chat with the Emir, Bianca introduced them to another friend, Luigi Randazzo, an Italian singer. She motioned to Ramo Nash, the creator of Alph Art. He disappeared before they could say hello.
That's odd, Tintin thought as Nash disappeared up the stairs. As Haddock immersed himself in several of Ramo's latest works of art, namely a picture of a gigantic Z surrounded by a series of miniature Z's, Tintin held back.
Something's not right.
Tintin discreetly inspected the room. Observing the two servants, he found they had the charm of gorilla's. His stomach churned uncontrollably as he kneeled back down to stroke Snowy. As he did, he caught a glance out of the window. The sky had turned a deep orange, reflecting hues of red against the darkening sky. The day would soon be coming to an end. Tintin stood up and walked onto the balcony. The wind had all but disappeared, but the temperature hadn't taken the hint. He gazed out to the mainland, reflecting on the day as the wind blew through his hair.
We found Bianca and Nash's Villa, but he's not here.
What do we do?
The voice from the phone reverberated within his head.
It could become unhealthy, even for you.
Tintin closed his eyes, slowly reopening them as the voice disappeared. His brain kicked in yet again, running the voice through his memories, trying to match it with someone he'd met.
I know that voice... I know it.
Tintin sighed, failing to register Haddock behind him until he spoke.
"Are you alright, Lad?" Haddock asked, placing his hand on his shoulder.
"I don't know, but something doesn't feel right,"
As Tintin turned, Bianca appeared on the balcony. Some of the guests had left. Tintin wondered if they should too.
"Well .. er... I think we'll go back to our hotel," Haddock stammered.
"But Caro Mio, it is out of the question. You must stay here tonight,"
"But .."
Haddock's interjection proved futile.
"Now, now... No-fuss!" She quickly replied, motioning to the two servants. "Please show these gentlemen to their rooms,"
x
As the servant closed the door behind him, Snowy jumped onto the bed, making his intentions very clear. Tintin smiled in the semi-dark room and paced over to the window. He sighed as he opened the window to find darkness slowly spreading across the coast of Naples, ready to absorb the last remaining pieces of light from the sky. The air from outside entered the window. It did nothing to balance the overall humidity of the room. Turning back towards the bed, he found some sleeping attire in the drawers and fell into bed.
2 hours later
A sharp bang snapped Tintin from his light sleep. He pushed himself up, gazing towards the open window. Pulling himself from the bed, he warily made his way towards the window.
What's going on?
Casting his eyes into the darkness, a van appeared within his vision. He kept low as men appeared, moving what looked like pictures or canvases into the van.
Why do it in the middle of the night, Tintin thought.
Quickly pulling his clothes on, he left his room, leaving Snowy asleep on the bed.
x
Tintin slipped from the Villa, following the men into what he could only assume was the cellar. As he opened the door, he found something unexpected.
"Oh my," He vocalized. "But... That's a Modigliani!"
Why is such an exquisite painting in a cellar?
Tintin raised his hand cautiously to the canvass but pulled his hand away sharply as paint escaped the canvass.
It's still wet.
Tintin's eyebrows furrowed then released slowly as he continued to examine the cellar. Soon he found more paintings.
"Here's a Leger, a Renoir... a Picasso," Tintin exclaimed, his voice slipping into a whisper as he continued to recite the various paintings scattered in front of him.
"These are perfect imitations. I wonder who .."
"Beautiful, aren't they?"
That voice.
The voice on the telephone!
Tintin immediately turned to face the voice, nearly jumping out of his skin.
Akass.
A gulp slipped down the length of his throat.
"Certainly, whoever painted them has plenty of talent," Tintin stuttered, trying to control his trembling lips.
"But you know him," Akass exclaimed, stepping even nearer. "It's our dear Ramo Nash! His latest brainwave is Alph Art. Behind that front, he can happily fabricate paintings by the masters. Afterwards, the art is authenticated by a known expert. Poor Mr Fourcart didn't want to .."
Tinti grit his teeth.
"Besides," Akass continued. "He wanted to expose the whole business to you. He threatened to blackmail me. Poor fool"
"You got rid of him," Tintin exclaimed angrily.
Everything finally made sense.
"As for you, young man, I'm afraid you know too much. You will have to disappear,"
Tintin almost stopped breathing.
No ... What have I done?
"Do you know of Cesar?"
Tintin frowned, narrowing his eyes.
"Cesar?"
"Cesar, the sculptor. I have plans for you, Tintin,"
As sweat gathered on Tintin's forehead, he glared at Akass.
You almost seem familiar with me, but I have never met you before.
The way his mouth uttered the syllables had his mind screaming.
I know you...
"We're going to pour liquid polyester over you. You'll become an expansion signed by Cesar and then authenticated by a well-known expert. No one will ever suspect the work, which could be entitled Reporter, constitutes the last resting place of young Tintin," Akass chuckled.
Tintin couldn't move. He stood there, unable to speak.
Akass smiled widely and motioned to the two men flanking him.
"Take him away and lock him up,"
One of the men pointed a gun to his back, forcing him further into the cellar. As another blonde-haired man opened a door, he was thrown hard into a room. The door slammed hard as Tintin pulled himself up.
What have I done?
How am I going to get myself out of this one?
Tintin paced the floor in frustration.
I'm going to get turned into a piece of work. You idiot!
"No one's going to find me," Tintin whispered.
As he sat down on a box, a bark broke the silence.
"Snowy?"
He gazed up at the barred window. A grin spread across his face as Snowy appeared.
"Snowy! Good boy,"
Pulling a piece of paper from his pocket along with a pen, he quickly scrawled a message down.
I've got a chance, a good one.
Springing himself up onto his toes, he gently stroked Snowy, hoping this wouldn't be the last time he would see him. Pushing the thought away, along with his tears, he passed the folded note to Snowy.
"Take it to Haddock, Quickly!"
As Snowy disappeared, Tintin fell onto the top of an oil drum, letting his head slip into his hands. Tears slipped from his eyes as a plea pushed through his head.
Find me, Haddock.
Please
I don't want to die.
Manoeuvring himself on the floor, he pulled his legs to his chest and closed his eyes.
This is an interesting project, and I've just rewritten the climax as it was way too short. The new climax is quite intense and a wild ride. New fanfics will be coming soon, as I've had ideas for what-if story for comics I haven't done yet. I can't wait to share them.