The Recalling

It was rather cold for an April evening in Cannes. I was alone at home watching

reruns of General Hospital. I hadn't had many nights alone like this after mom came back.

The clock struck five as I walked towards the kitchen. I stared at the picture that hung in the

hallway. I always felt like the man in the picture was watching me. As a kid it used to freak

me out, but now I had gotten used to it. Nowadays I stare back. The picture was of Walt

Whitman, my father's favourite poet. I started making tea for myself. I chuckled as I recalled

my friends calling me British for preferring tea over coffee always. I walked back to the

living room when I heard the doorbell ring.

Dad must've forgotten his briefcase again, I thought. I set down my cup of tea at the

table and went to answer the door. I was rather surprised when I didn't see dad at the door. I

was also surprised the man standing there wasn't French. He was a stranger for sure, but

seemed vaguely familiar.

"Hi Ben, I'm Simon. I'm a colleague of your fathers," said the man introducing

himself.

His name took be back. I tried to place him, but couldn't.

"Have I met you before ? " I asked, hoping he could provide some insight.

"Yes, we celebrated Christmas of '96 together. You were a kid then, " he replied.

I started recollecting, but the figure in front of me didn't resemble the uncle Simon I

knew at all.

"You certainly have changed over the years, Mr. Simon," I joked nervously.

"I sure have Benny. Listen, can I come in? I have something important to tell you. It's

about your dad."

"Sure, come in. I hope everything is okay?"

"I'll tell you everything, but I think you should sit down for this," he replied, walking

towards the living room.

My thoughts started to bother me. I started contemplating the worst case scenarios.

What if he met with an accident? He did take a peg of Jack before he left. But that was usual.

I sat down across from him at the table. I noticed my tea and went for it. He picked it up and

offered it to me.

"Now listen Ben. What I am about to say might come as a shock to you," said Simon.

"They had an accident didn't they? " I asked, as I kept my cup back on the table.

"I wish, but I'm afraid that's not the case. Ben, your dad used to be an undercover

agent for Interpol."

Now I felt the shock he mentioned earlier. It was one of those moments you would go

like 'yea right'. But the still face of Simon made me realize he wasn't kidding. I decided I

should hear more of what he had to say before I reacted. But my instinct of surprise took over

and I asked rather rhetorically.

"You're kidding right? I know am not Einstein or anything, but if my dad had

anything to do with such things, I'm pretty sure I would have noticed."

"No you wouldn't have. Nobody could. He was the best we ever had," he replied with

a smidge of pride one has when they remembered the good old days.

I noticed that he was as rigid as ever when he spoke. He was also rather convincing.

So I decided to listen before I made a fool out of myself.

"I don't have much time. Your dad's identity has been compromised and he is in

hiding. Your dad worked on one of the most important cases in history, The Mona Lisa theft

of 1994. Your dad was the one who recovered the painting from the US and brought it back

to France. And the reason he settled here is also to safeguard the painting. Ben, the painting

in the Louvre in not the Da-Vinci original, but a mere replica. The real painting is in this

house."

I couldn't move. I was dumbstruck. I tried to speak but my parched mouth didn't help.

I tried to say something but I didn't know what to say.

"Now we need to move the painting as soon as possible. The Chinese triads have

come to know of the location. We have about one hour. Now I don't know where the painting

is. Only your dad does. He will call on your phone soon and tell you the location. I want you

to find it for me. Ben, your dad's and a lot of others' lives are at stake. I need you to man up,"

he said as he offered me the cup of tea again.

I gulped it in as my throat was parched. Just as I was about to finish, I felt my phone

vibrate. I checked the call screen and it said 'Private number'. I picked up the call and put it

on speaker.

" Benny, its dad. I don't have much time, so listen carefully. I am not who you think I

am. I have a past that I hid from you to keep you safe. Now listen, trust nobody. There is an

important painting inside the vault..."

Simon had cut the call. I looked up at him surprised and then my dad's words that I

heard a moment ago echoed through my ears 'trust nobody'. Simon took out a gun from his

jacket pocket.

"You must've figured I'm not your friend anymore Benny," he said with a psychotic

"Now listen to me. You tell me where the vault is, and I will let you go. If you don't, I

will not hesitate to pull the trigger."

I checked my options. In front of me was probably a trained killer. This is not where

my skills are going to work. I decided to give in and hope for the best.

"The vault is in mom's room upstairs," I said, scared to all hell.

"Well that was easy. Now come here!" said Simon as he handcuffed my hands to the

railing of the table.

He then ran upstairs. I heard him above in my mom's room. I was worried for many

reasons. I was disappointed that I gave up on my dad's work. Suddenly, I heard footsteps

outside. I saw some people with flashlights peeping in. The police had arrived. Simon ran

down the stairs holding his gun up. I saw that he hadn't gotten to the painting yet. He started

firing at the officers and killed two of them. I then realized that it was a smart move from my

side not messing with this person. Suddenly, I heard another gunshot and Simon fell on the

floor. A masked man appeared by my side. He removed his mask. I couldn't believe my

eyes. It was Simon once again.

"Are you alright Ben? " He asked.

"Who are you?" I asked with my eyes bulging out like they saw a ghost.

"I'm your dad's friend Simon. You knew me when you were a kid," he said.

"But.. but .. Simon.. He.. is there.. shot dead?" I asked hoping this was all a nightmare.

The new Simon looked at me and explained, "This man was an imposter. He had a

doppelganger surgery done on him by the Triads. He has been giving me hardships forever.

Well I guess that's over," he said as he took out the keys from the imposters pocket and

removed my cuffs.

"Ben, we traced your dad's phone call and got here. I know the painting is in the vault.

Don't worry you can trust me. Now where is the vault? " He asked.

"The vault is in mom's room upstairs," I said for the second time today to two

different people who to me were still the same person.

I followed the new Simon upstairs into mom's room. We got to the vault. Simon

called in safe and asked the team to get to opening the vault. He took me downstairs and got

me some water. He asked me to relax and assured me everything was going to be alright. I

saw one of his officers come down the stairs.

"Sir, we got the vault open, but there is bad news," said the officer.

"What is it?" questioned Simon.

"The painting is not there sir. I'm afraid it has been moved."

"What?! But he said it's in the vault. His life is at stake here. Why would he lie?" said

Simon as he ran up the stairs to the vault.

I followed him and looked at the vault with him. The officer was right. The vault had

only some of my mom's jewellery. Simon was losing it. I came back downstairs to get some

peace. 'Well now he could use a glass of water' I thought as I went back to the kitchen. I

stood there for a while wondering why my dad lied. I really wished I could help them out. As

I returned I shared my usual stares with Whitman and went back upstairs. I kept rewinding

my dad's words "Trust Nobody. There is an important painting inside the vault.." I recalled

dad's favourite saying "The best place to hide something, is in plain sight". I returned back in

the room to the sorry policemen when it suddenly struck me.

"Simon!" I exclaimed.

"My dad said the painting is in the vault, but then the call got cut. What if he didn't

mean this vault. What if he meant the other vault?" I said not entirely sure of what I was up to.

"Eh? There is another vault? What are you saying, Ben?" Simon said rather annoyed.

"Not vault, Walt. Walt Whitman. There is a Walt Whitman painting downstairs. !" I

almost yelled.

Simon stood there in silence and then realized I was right. He ran down the stairs

towards the painting followed by me and the other officers. He took down the painting and

checked behind it. But Alas! There was nothing there. In anger he threw the painting on the

floor. The fall smashed the frame and the glass flew all around the place. I looked up to

Simon who was as disappointed as a person could be. I looked back at the frame on the

ground. I picked up the painting in my hands and looked at that scary Walt face. I looked at

Simon again and noticed him staring at the frame. I looked down and saw something that

people all around the world flew to France to see. The masterpiece by Leonardo lay on the

floor before my eyes. Simon's joy knew no bounds. He carefully took up the 500 year old

painting and kept it on the table. He looked at me with glee and pride.

"You have saved your father Ben. I assure you he will be with you soon," he said as

he walked out the door.

The Policemen cleared the body of the old Simon. The painting was also taken away.

I went upstairs and recalled what had happened. I pinched myself wondering whether it was

all a dream. I stayed up almost all night thinking. I don't remember when I dozed off. I do

remember the next morning though.

"Good morning Ben," A familiar voice said.

A opened my eyes hoping there weren't any more surprises. I was wrong. It was a

surprise nonetheless. My dad had returned home.