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 Short Fat Stubby Finger Stories PRESENTS:

EPISODE 15

Joseph, unaware that he was being followed, entered the hotel as arranged.   He had told no one where he was going, nor why; not that he actually had anyone to tell anything to in the first place – and he still had no real idea of what it was that he was getting himself into, so he would not really have had anything to tell anyone should he have wanted to.   It had all sounded like a big, adventurous, game earlier at the restaurant: a beautiful woman, a missing statue, middle-eastern cults and devil worshippers, but now …   now that he had settled down from the adrenaline rush that had persuaded him to arrange tonight’s meeting it had given his, albeit now more sober mind cause to think things over.   And once he had thought things through he knew that right thing to do was to tell Rosetta the truth; that he was not who she thought him to be.  

   Joseph knew deep within his heart he was disappointed at both of his decisions: disappointed in himself for what he was giving up, for what, perhaps, could have been; but equally disappointed in his letting Rosetta down in the first instance by not convincing her at the time that he was not the man she was expecting to meet up with.   But in relation to his giving up his possible sharing the adventure of a lifetime with the most beguiling woman he had ever had the fortune of meeting, he had to admit to himself that he had no idea what would be expected of him in a search of such importance, or what he would … could … say if she questioned his clumsy attempts at searching if he had gone with her to wherever it was she thought the statue had been hidden.

    ‘After all,’ he had thought to himself, ‘if something that big was hidden somewhere in the house or nearby, and, presumably, the authorities had not come across it, then what chance would I have.   I can’t even find half my socks when I go to the laundromat.   And, to admit the truth, I am a little bit concerned with meeting up with the Punjani.   If they were capable of putting her father into a coma,’ he began to ask himself, ‘and they’re deemed to be a murderous bunch of thugs, what would they do to me if I did or said something wrong in their eyes?    No, sorry Rosetta, but this is not for me … not my cup of tea, I am afraid.’

   Joseph did not consider himself to be a hero in any form of the word, and when he thought it through he knew that it was possible that it would prove to be a very dangerous game to be involved in, providing Rosetta was telling the truth … which he believed she was.   And he did not believe he would be up to the task. ‘No, for everybody’s sake it is best that I bite the bullet and tell the truth.’   Joseph admitted, making his final decision as he began the long walk to where Rosetta sat waiting for her reluctant, and false, hero to arrive.

   But a second later, as he saw Rosetta in the booth waiting for him, a shudder resounded throughout his entire body at the sight of her incredible beauty and he found his resilience beginning to wither immediately.   Joseph sighed again as he considered what might have been had he been the man she thought him to be, but resigned himself to the following day where he would once again find himself munching on another mundane lunch consisting of soggy toasted ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches, accompanied by a luke warm latte,  glancing half- heartedly through the pages of a newspaper and rubbing a small coin over the pattern of another waste-of-time-and-money scratch-it card, because Joseph knew he was destined to spend the entire holiday weekend alone – as usual.

   Joseph knew immediately that in one split second he was going to be the most admired and envied man in the room for the second time today as he joined with Rosetta in the booth, though there was a much smaller audience here than had been at the restaurant … which he thought was just as well considering the circumstances.   ‘Admired, that was,’  Joseph thought, ‘until I get the courage up to tell her the truth, have my face slapped, and slink out of the room into the blessed relief of the darkness of the night, possibly … probably … to the sounds of applause and sniggering laughter.  

   Joseph took a deep breath as he took the last two steps to the table … and Rosetta.   ‘Well, it’s time to confess and say goodbye.   Shame, but that’s the way it goes.   All I have to do is … just do it, say it … say that I am sorry … and then leave.  Then it is all over and I can regain my sanity, because I know I will go crazy if I keep on playing this silly game.   It’s just not my style.  I could never have gotten away with it.   I’m just not that good at pretending.’

   Joseph’s mouth slowly began to open as he looked down at Rosetta with the intent of confessing his misdemeanors to her at a hundred words a minute, even if she never understood a single word he had said, then he would run out of the hotel as fast as his legs would carry him.   But before he could get a single word out of his mouth, Rosetta sensed his presence and looked up, giving him a smile that blew his mind … and froze his tongue.

   Before Joseph could regain focus, before he could do or say anything, Rosetta was on her feet and entwining both arms around him as she proceeded to hug him so enthusiastically that he felt his spine might snap … and it instantly made him feel unworthy of her attention and affection.   He should not have been here with her, he thought.   She needed help and she needed it from the man who would be able to help her; this was who she was hugging so enthusiastically, not him, not to Joseph Jacobson and his need to pander to his ego and his feelings.   Joseph was beginning to feel sick in the stomach as he realised how he had cost her the chance to meet up with the man she should have been with.  His reasons for the sham had been selfish and shallow and he desperately regretted what he had done, but he had no idea how to rectify the situation … especially now that he had lost the element of surprise.

   “Oh, Joseph, I am so glad that you came. Martin will be here shortly.”

   Joseph immediately felt his heart jump into his mouth; his brain panicking; his nerves now on edge.   He knew he should have nipped this in the bud at lunchtime.   Now he was not going to get the chance to confess: he would now end up being totally humiliated because of his awkwardness in the situation and probably severely dealt with by Martin once he arrived.   Joseph had still been trying to sum up the correct way of letting Rosetta down gently, and the courage to actually do it.   But now, with this Martin arriving – and failing to recognise him as whoever he was supposed to be Joseph was convinced that he was about to be publicly humiliated as he was exposed as a fraud; a charlaton: a complete bastard, in front of all and sundry.

   Personally, Joseph felt was this to be a ridiculous thing to happen because there had been no intentional fraud involved.   He just hadn’t known how to convince Rosetta that he wasn’t somebody else without hurting her because she wouldn’t believe him when he had tried to.   Then her story had mesmerised him so much he had momentarily dismissed the reality of the situation from his mind and he missed his chance to clear the air with the facts and the truth .  The only reason he had even turned up at the hotel tonight was out of guilt and a need to apologise as he cut the ties with her as cleanly as he could, rather than not turn up at all … but now, because this ‘Martin’ had arrived she would believe that he was a morbid sicko who had deliberately tried to mislead her for some creepy reason.

   Joseph opened his mouth to speak, still uncertain what to say, but again on the verge of screaming out an apology of sorts … and running, when Rosetta’s sudden declaration interrupted his thoughts before he could get his tongue over a starting point.”

   “Ah!  Here is Martin.” 

   ‘Oh God!’ Joseph thought inside his panicky mind, ‘Here it comes’, as his body reacted to the fear that discovery of guilt creates: to the nightmare truth releases to the brain: his legs froze; his brain turned to soup; his stomach to an acidic nightmare that threatened to burn him internally from the stomach up, and his eyes began closing in anticipation of the most embarrassing day of his life.

   “Ah-ha,” A distinguished sounding male voice called out from a distance of several yards,   “The famous man himself.”

   Joseph sighed and slowly opened his eyes ready to meet the inevitable.

   Marching towards him was a tall, slim built man, roughly his own age, standing somewhere over six feet tall, Joseph guessed.   Joseph was uncertain how many inches should be added to the final figure, but he was certainly taller than himself at a barely reached six foot.

   Joseph eyes quickly scanned the room looking for the nearest exit should he need to move in a hurry … and while Joseph attempted to calculate his best option for an escape, Martin continued on his military march towards him.

   Desperate and out of escape options Joseph concentrated all of his energies on Martin, looking for any sign of hostilities and took more notice of the man’s features for the first time.  Probably closer to forty Joseph now decided, handsome in a nineteen forties’ Hollywood rom-com way, complete with thick, dark, wavy hair brushed back; a moustache straight out of the same era, and a smile so broad it mesmerised Joseph.  ‘At least the last thing I will see is a smile if he hits me.’  Joseph noted to himself.

   The man stopped directly in front of him.    Joseph was uncertain as to whether the man would eventually hit him, hug him or head butt him.   However, he did none of them.  Instead, as Rosetta, in one swift movement, managed to unwrap her arms from around him and moved as close to him as humanly possible, placing one arm around his waist as she did so, the man reached out his arm, and taking Joseph’s unrestrained hand in his, began to pump it in a manner befitting the greeting of an old and dear acquaintance.   “My friend, my dear, dear friend,” Martin exclaimed so excitedly and loudly the majority of the punters in the room turned and looked in their direction.   “Sorry,” he apologised, his face slightly flushed, while grinning like a school boy finally coming face to face with his idol,   “Finally we meet. After all of these years of secret codes, messages, and phone calls, I finally get to meet you face to face.”

   ‘They’ve never met!’ Joseph exclaimed to himself in total surprise, completely uncertain as to what to do next.   This had not been something he had been expecting and he had no idea what was going to happen next.   Joseph knew that it gave him some extra time to work out a plan of escape, but he was almost beside himself worrying about things that Martin might bring up if he had been making regular contact with the man Joseph purported to be.

   “Or – have – I?”   Martin asked unexpectedly, his voice expressing a quizzical tone as he half closed one eye before proceeding to lean so far forward his face came to a rest only inches away from Joseph’s.

   ‘Uh-oh, here it comes,’ Joseph thought, certain that the truth was nigh.

   But Martin suddenly pulled back and stood tall; a huge admiring smile covered his face. 

   “By Jove, old chap,” he said with delight, “from all accounts of your reputation for disguise, I don’t think that I would have recognised you, even if I did know what you looked like.   I mean to say, I could have met you any time and never known it.   I am delighted to finally meet you in person and finally have a chance to work with you.   Rosetta tells me you had some trouble at this afternoon’s meeting.   I hope this place has no ears.”

********

‘Only mine, my lovely,’ Mary whispered to herself from behind the wine list she was using to prevent Joseph from detecting her presence in the booth right behind him and his friends when he had finally sat himself down.   Luck had run Mary’s way when Joseph had walked to the hotel, and with the hundreds of workers all making their way towards the tube or a bus or some other way of leaving the city, it had been no trouble to follow him right to the door.   She had hesitated momentarily behind some punters at the bar in order to watch Joseph’s movements as she entered, which was not easy to do considering the low number of patrons in the room, but when the woman stood up to embrace him in a hug Mary took advantage of the distraction and snuck behind Joseph’s back and into the seat right behind where the young woman had been sitting.   Mary had been expecting to find Joseph involved in some clandestine affair, but now she had no idea what she had stumbled into.   There was every chance her imagination had run away in the wrong direction … at the moment everything had seemed quite innocent, but never-the-less intriguing – especially after Martin had arrived with the strange words he had spoken in his, albeit one-way conversation with Joseph, and his being a friend of his, yet seemingly having no idea what Joseph looked like.   His words had indicated something of mystery was in the offering and she wasn’t moving until she found out more.   Especially about the beautiful young woman who was with him.  Mary had instinctively known this was the woman who had planted the lipstick on Joseph’s face – and she now knew that there was a very strong probability that she did have a problem in getting close to Joseph, especially as the young woman had seemed in no hurry to relinquish her bear hug on Joseph when Martin arrived.   Just how much of a problem she intended to find out.  Or at least she would when she came up with a plan.   For the moment it was simply a case of wait, watch, listen and learn.

   But as far as Joseph and his out-of-work-hours activities, and her report for Johann. P. Biggs, were concerned … well that was a different story, Mary decided.   Mary had always assumed Joseph to be a bit shy, without much of a life outside of office hours, but after hearing the conversation he was having with the other man she had come to realize that Joseph was, perhaps, much, much more than the ‘Nerdie-Man’ impression he gave at the office.  Joseph was leading a double life and that excited her.   ‘Yes’, she thought, ‘he is somebody that I really need to know more about.  And so does Johann P. Biggs.   Wow!   Who would have thought? ”  

   ********

“I say, Joseph … it is safe in here, isn’t it?”   Martin asked again when Joseph failed to answer, this time with a bit more concern in his voice.”

   Joseph’s knees threatened to buckle under him and it took an almighty effort to reply to Martin’s question without choking on the dry throat that had developed in his throat over the past two minutes.  

   “It should be safe enough,” Joseph finally replied quietly, uncertain whether Martin was being serious or facetious, “but I think it might be more prudent if we all spoke a little quieter.”  

   Joseph had only asked Martin to lower the tone of his voice as it was still attracting attention from the punters at the bar and he would have preferred to not have any witness to the string of abuse he still expected to receive from either Martin or Rosetta once the truth was known, but Joseph had not realised that Martin would take his suggestion as a form of chastisement.  

   And it would take Joseph some time to realise he had the upper hand in their newly formed relationship, mainly due to Martin’s admiration for the man he had assumed Joseph to be. 

   “Oh, yes … sorry.   Forgot where I was for a moment.  Being in such esteem company I am afraid I became a little carried away,”   Martin managed to splutter as he tried valiantly to hide his embarrassment at his barely controlled excitement,   “I am sure it is safe if you have checked it, James … sorry … Joseph … Rosetta did warn me.   Anyway I have some good news.”  

   Rosetta, bemused by Martin’s embarrassment in Joseph’s company, quickly became excited by his words, urging him to tell them of his findings right away, but Joseph suggested they took refuge in the cubicle and order their drinks before continuing the conversation.    Rosetta reluctantly acknowledged Joseph’s suggestion and disentangled herself from him and sat down, but as she moved her body across the seat towards the wall, she turned her head to face him.  “Siediti accanto a me”, Joseph”  she said, a beautiful smile on her face as her hand began gently patting the seat beside her,   “Sit beside me … and make my night perfect.”    Joseph did as he was requested as Martin headed to the bar with their orders, but he did so with reservations.   At that very moment his mind was extremely agitated: he was confused within himself:  his brain reeling in confliction between the guilt of his deceit that was pounding in his head – and the pleasantry of Rosetta’s physical intimacy.   It was no wonder Joseph failed to notice Mary scrunched as close to the wall as she could manage in the seat behind them.

   Martin had taken less than a minute to place their orders and return to the table due to the limited patronage of the bar at the moment, and he began to tell them of his findings as soon as he had settled in, his voice now so low that Mary had to really concentrate on what he was saying.

“I have managed to contact an associate of the Punjani,”, he all but whispered less his voice carry too far across the room and repeat his earlier gaffe in front of Joseph,   “His name is Raji Constanis, a bit of a cultural mish-mash, I should imagine, nevertheless, he insists that he has direct contact with the Punjani and that he will be the main liaison between them and us.   They are guaranteeing the trade, the statue for the antidote – however we only have seven days to locate the statue.   After that date they will take over the search themselves – and the offer of the antidote will no longer be binding.   At that point we will be on our own to help Professor Tusacani recover – which could quite possibly be never, I am afraid.”

   “Oh, that is so cruel,” Rosetta snapped, “I thought you said you had some good news, Martin.   How is telling me that my father may remain in a coma for the rest of his life good news?

   “Ah, the good news … well it is not actually good news,” Martin admitted, “but Ravi has all but guaranteed that the statue should be located, if not at the farm itself, then definitely somewhere in Trenthamville.   He said he had it on good authority that no vehicle big enough to carry the statue had been seen in the village since the day that Professor Tusacani arrived there.   So it may be very well hidden, but it should be locatable with a bit of effort put into the search by us.   So let us just pray that we find it, or at least a clue to its hiding place – and quickly at that.  If you do not have any preconceived ideas, I suggest that we start at Trenthamville.”

   “Is that where he was staying?” Joseph asked with genuine interest.   Joseph had found himself in a quandary in telling them the truth because Martin didn’t know what the man they thought him to be actually looked like.  Joseph knew he couldn’t simply excuse himself and go home.   He doubted he would  be able to come up with a reasonable excuse, and if they began to interrogate him he would fall apart at the seems, and god only knows how that would end.   He began to wonder if it was not a bad idea to continue the pretense of being who they thought he was, but confess to his bad judgement in agreeing to meet with Rosetta here at the hotel as he had already agreed to take on another task, or made up a story along similar lines when he got the chance.   But it worried him to do so for various levels including putting more stress on Rosetta’s already over-burdened shoulders by discovering that he was not interested in helping her.   Confession now also worried him: Rosetta had opened her heart to him in her worry for her father: who knew what damage it may do to her if he now confessed openly and told them who he really was and she discovered that he was a fraud wasting her time.  He felt it would be far better if he explained, albeit made up a story, why he could not help them and why he had delayed telling them and then they could find somebody else that could help them.   ‘He could say,’ he thought, ‘that he was hoping to find a way to help them, even if only for a short period of time, but he now judged it could possibly turn into an event that would take up all of the time that he had available to spare them, and, most likely, a whole lot more: much more than possible for him to provide considering his current workload.’

   But eventually he had decided that he would fall back on his original plan to listen and try to find an easy way out of his situation … some way of finding what would appear to be a genuine obstruction to his becoming involved in the search … perhaps suggesting that even at this stage that they were not the people that he was supposed to meet.  

   ‘Although there were several similarities in the two cases,’ his mind began to conjure up, ‘what had happened to the person classed as missing that I had been requested to help find had never been mentioned, but they were missing as far as I know, not in a coma … and it had not been Martin who had called him for help.   It was someone called Donald Johnson.   I thought Martin, here, was simply calling himself Martin for some security reason or another.   I am beginning to feel this is a case of a double misunderstanding, my friends, and we need to get the right parties together.  Martin, perhaps you could speak with your friend, Joseph, James, whatever his real name is:   Perhaps you can arrange a new meeting with him and I will attempt to track down Donald Johnson.   Yes,’ Joseph thought happily, ‘I can work around that angle.’   But it was a thought that was proving hard to enforce inside his mind, as once again he was finding himself being dragged like a fly into this intricate web, as his curiosity rose …fogging his common sense … and making it hard for him to withdraw.

   “Has Rosetta not explained about Trenthamville?” Martin asked.

   “I’m afraid not.” Joseph replied, his mind racing to recall whether or not Rosetta had mentioned it, but he had not needed to concern himself.

   “I found my self becoming rather upset as I spoke about what happened to father,”  Rosetta interjected, smiling at Joseph as she spoke,  “Joseph was extremely kind and sensitive to my feelings and I think between my pain and his kindness I may have omitted some details.”

   Martin looked quizzically at Rosetta, but said nothing about his thoughts.    Instead, he returned his attention to Joseph.   “Professor Tuscanni was renting a rather derelict farmhouse not far from the village of Trenthamville.   It’s about an hour and a half’s drive from London, or it should be if we leave early enough in the morning.   We thought that that was where he had taken the statue for safe keeping.   It would have made sense, but the police informed us that they had not come across anything that had resembled a statue anywhere on the farm. Nothing had seemed disturbed in the barn, but the house was a rather different matter.   It was like somebody had tried to set fire to it – without succeeding.   Or perhaps it was just kids who had broken in and were a bit careless with their cigarettes, though that seems a bit far fetched seeing the professor and his step-brother were living there at the time.

   “Was there much damage to the house?”  Joseph asked without thinking why, or questioning the alarm bells that had begun screaming out loudly in his head.   Bells generated by some long forgotten memory buried deep with the darkness of his mind that had tried to free itself the moment Martin mentioned the fire.  

   Joseph had no intention of trying to make the memory resurface, preferring instead to let it rise when it was ready … if it ever did.   This not the first time that similar things had happened – and nothing had ever ventured back into his mind before… so he saw no reason to imagine it would this time.   Just another strange mystery in his life that he had no time to spare thinking about … he already had enough on his plate at the moment without the need to add extras.

   “No,” Martin replied as he continued with his tale, “it appeared to be a rather strange fire, originating and ending on a portion of the carpet in the living room.   I have no idea what was burning in the carpet, but I have been advised the police had the local fire brigade have a look at it.   Unfortunately they couldn’t get the embers extinguished: whatever was smouldering had no idea of stopping just because they were fire officers, so they simply placed some fire blankets over the carpet and let it burn itself out.   It was never going to spread and burn the house down, so it was assumed safe enough by all concerned.”

   Joseph looked at Martin with disbelief.  “You are joking?” he asked, “did it work?”

   “It would appear so,” Martin replied, “The house hasn’t burnt down as far as I know.  

   “The police who attended the house … is it possible that they may have been corrupt.  That they found the statue and kept it for themselves to sell later?  I mean, it was considered rather valuable, wasn’t it?”

   “You are very cynical, my friend,” Martin said with a laugh, “but no, I was of much the same mind and had them checked out to be on the safe side.   According to all reports they seem to be an honest enough bunch.   I had never mentioned the composition of the statue to the inspector, just its approximate dimensions.  The inspector I had spoken to arranged for a search of the house and barn to be carried out after I had asked the question, giving him a quick explanation of why it was there, and where it was headed, but not its approximate value.   He called me back later that day to advise me that they found nothing of that description, nor did they find anything that may have once been a storage area for anything of that size and physical description. 

   “Did you speak to the police the same night as they found the professor wandering the streets … or was it the next day?”  

   “It was the following day.   I rang them as soon as Rosetta advised me of her father’s condition … and the value of the statue.” 

   “I became worried about the statue when the police rang and told me about my father … and when we were unable to contact Vittorio by the following morning I rang Martin.”   Rosetta added.  “As you can imagine it was a rather large item and its value would had begun to expose itself to anybody that came across it, being made of gold and covered with rubies and diamonds, I was worried that somebody may have stolen it … which is why I told Martin about it when I explained to him what my father was doing in Trenthamville.

   “Raji had also thought that the professor may have kept the artefacts at the farm,’ Martin continued, “but when he himself went there he couldn’t find anything.   He also agreed with the police that there appeared nowhere to hide it.   However both he and I still feel that it will be in our best interest to check it out for ourselves.   And if we can’t find any clues there, then we begin to talk to the villagers who just might provide us with a clue where else to try.  What do you say?”

   “Oh, Joseph,” Rosetta’s brown eyes opened wide in anticipation of getting one step closer to her goal, her eyes pleading with Joseph to agree with Martin, “should we go?   Would it be possible that we will find some clue?”

   Joseph thought hard and fast then turned to Rosetta.   “How did they get the statue to the farm?” he asked.

   “I think they hired a truck,” Rosetta offered, “but I am not certain. 

   “Is there anyway to verify exactly what they did.  That they didn’t employ someone to deliver it?  Joseph asked.

   “Ah, yes … I can see what you are suggesting,” Martin replied, his eyes lighting up into a knowing smile, “that somehow the hired crew discovered just what they were transporting and stole it.   I would assume that the thing was fairly well covered … all wrapped up inside the box with cloth or plastic – and the lid all tightly nailed down.   Should have been safe from prying eyes, but if the cats were curious … they could have scratched away.   Well, regardless of who delivered it, even with special clearance permits, the statue would still have had to go through customs, so there should be some collection details recorded, including who picked the statue up.   At least that gives me a starting point.  It will probably take a day or two to get it all checked out, but I can initiate the investigation now.   I will start the ball rolling immediately.

   With that Martin rose from his chair, pulled his mobile from his coat pocket and began to make his way towards the emptiness of the far end of the room to give his instructions clearly, without distraction, and without the fear of somebody listening to his conversation, however, before he had moved more than two steps Rosetta called him back.

   “But, Martin, my father had told me it had arrived safely,” Rosetta said when Martin returned to the booth.  “He said they had already unpacked it.   That was over a week ago … before he became comatose.  He said he had to take advantage of the short time he had left with it to examine it in more detail.   He said it was an unusual statue.   It seemed so solid, so perfect in its shape and size, it was almost like a sarcophagus, yet he was certain it was hollow inside and he wondered why.

   “Perhaps it was meant to house the god it was made to honour when he finally passed on.” Joseph offered.

    “Maybe,” Rosetta replied, a half smile on her face, “but if it was delivered safely, then … .   His last words to me were that he was searching for some way to open it without damaging it.   He had been in Trenthamville for soem time, so why do you think somebody may have stolen it before it arrived”

   “We are not suggesting that they did,” Joseph stated matter-of-factly, we are suggesting  that whoever delivered the statue may have accidentally identified the value of the statue, but there was no sense in them taking it then.   They would have to find a way of moving it and storing it without anybody being aware of their new acquirement.   And they would be better off finding a buyer for it before stealing it.   Perhaps they came back when they had a buyer – and your father confronted them.   There are a lot of questions that we can’t answer at the moment.   This is just one of them.”

   “I hope it’s not true – it’s not been stolen, surely not.” Rosetta said, a quaver in her voice, tears forming once more in the corner of her eyes, “it would mean that we would have nothing to trade.   Nothing …”

   “It won’t hurt to still get the facts through customs,” Martin said encouragingly.   “Let’s just hope that we get some answers to our enquiry rather quickly so we know just which way to run.”   He then turned his attention to Joseph.   “Joseph, about the farm … I really think it is worth checking it out.”

   “Yes, please, Joseph.”   The plea in Rosetta’s soft request carried the sound of invisible tears to Joseph’s ears.   Joseph’s head spun into warp drive, his tongue became a soft puddle of mush, as he was, once again, totally hypnotized by Rosetta, her story, and the entire situation.   If Walter Mitty had a brother, it certainly would have been Joseph Jacobson.

   “Yes,” he replied softly.

   “Good man,”   Martin said approvingly of Joseph’s answer, “Well I’m off to contact my sources in Customs.   Martin moved out of his seat and headed for relevant solitude in order to make his call, and as he moved off Rosetta placed her hand on Joseph’s hand and squeezed it for comfort.  Joseph offered no resistance, instead he turned to face her and as he did he saw the look of fear and sorrow upon her face: not fear and sorrow for herself, but for her missing father.   Without thinking he removed his hand from hers and placed his arm around her back, then gently pulled her forward until her head was resting against his chest where he could feel the warm wetness of her tears burning into his chest.   “Tomorrow may give us all the answers we need.” He whispered in her ears.

   “Thank you, Joseph?” Rosetta’s voice was but a raspy whisper from the dryness in her throat, “I am so glad you agreed to come with us … I really am.” 

********

 Behind their backs Mary nodded her head in total agreement to Joseph’s decision and then pulled out her phone from her handbag and began her text:

‘Chapter one: Story begins tomorrow on the road to Trenthamville – more soon … Agent Mary … over and out.’

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