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Davison had mentioned that charity is something that you will need to look at.
    Luke rubbed his hands over his scruffy jeans as he crept out of the brick structure. An obvious conclusion was that he had a ticket waiting for him at some kind of charity event taking place somewhere related to stars. Often the cryptic messages were that simple, any code in the world could be broken with time. The cryptic messages were to slow exterior entities down, but they still had to be functional for operatives.
    Luke walked slowly down the road. Earlier that evening Luke had followed the man from the police station to his residence on the western outskirts of Teramo. He had recognised the elderly figure as Professor Roland Brun, a head technician at the Gran Sasso Institute. He was a prime figure in the dossier Davison had gone through briefly on the way to the airport in Denmark. Professor Brun had worked extremely closely with Vittorio on the OPERA experiments and Luke assumed the two Carabinieri had come to the conclusion that he was the logical place to start asking questions. Professor Vittorio had never married and had no children so Brun would appear to be the closest person to him.
    Brun’s house had been nothing extraordinary, a small place on a quiet, shabby hillside street on the north-eastern side of Teramo. Luke had watched the house for around an hour. Brun’s wife held strong features and was well into her sixties. There had been nothing to really observe, no activity to spark concern. They appeared to live alone, no children. Luke thought if they had children they would be in their thirties anyway. He had left them to it.
    Bouncing up the stone steps he entered the hotel foyer, the same attractive receptionist nodded and smiled at him as he walked past and took the stairs up to his floor. He emerged out into the corridor and strolled down to his door, ripping off the still-intact transparent piece of tape. It was rapidly approaching 1 a.m.
    The orange street lights threw lava over the ceiling of his hotel room. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept all the way through the night. He was a man haunted by a nightmare, a past vision that refused to die, obstinately pulling him back to who he once was. Not sleeping brought various different waves of tiredness, one hour feeling exhausted, the next feeling ultra-alert. He was always waiting for the intensity of sunlight to grow, and another morning to arrive. He focused on the tasks at hand and the night slowly crept away … one second at a time.

11.
    Monday 12 th November
    Chung Su gulped down air, forcing the oxygen deep into her lungs. Regaining a steady breathing rhythm she took a swig of water from a plastic container. The early morning run had been longer than she had planned, around six miles, and she was sweating hard. She tore off the woolly beanie hat to try and cool herself and began to stretch. Her usual morning workout routine consisted of thirty minutes of yoga followed by a long run. Exercise was actively pursued by North Korean society as a healthy body and mind were imperative to a healthy spirit.
    She had come to a stop in the centre of Teramo as the town was slowly waking up. People were ambling around the narrow streets, and no one seemed to be in any sort of rush. Chung Su’s run had allowed her to explore, it was her first time in Europe, in fact anywhere outside of Korea and she was amazed at how the town seemed to have grown haphazardly in all directions. Perhaps that’s how European towns and cities were. The narrow rambling streets, the quaint houses strung with washing; they were so different to those of her homeland, the stone and brick seemed to drip with history. As she had run through street after street the most powerful thing she experienced was the atmosphere, more specifically the complete lack of palpable apprehension. She was so used to existing in an atmosphere that pulsated with an undercurrent of fear and anxiety that her