The Milieu Principle

by Malcolm Franks

The black engine moved slowly up the steep incline. The four passengers sat quietly, watching the light rain fall. Every now and again, snowflakes would replace the precipitously falling water for a while, reminding them of the impending arrival of winter.

  Matt blinked at Gerhardt. Recognising the pre-determined signal, he engaged Eva-Maria in light conversation. Matt shepherded Catherine out of earshot.

  “There is no need to meet at the restaurant any longer,” he said. “I would ask Julia to cancel the reservations, and tell her you have decided against visiting during the holidays.”

  She looked upon him with a quizzical frown.

  “First you meet us in person at St Gilgen, after you had said we should never meet face to face again. Then you demand we change our entire wardrobe without explanation. Now you ask I cancel all prepared plans, and deny we have ever arrived in the village. I hope you have good reason for the sudden change of heart.”

  Matt smiled kindly at Catherine while he considered how best to approach the subject.

  “I have discovered Julia still holds strong feelings towards you.”

  She gasped at his unexpected words.

  “They are so strong I believe they may well have distorted her judgement.”

  “You tread a very fine line with me,” she replied sharply. “So fine you test my patience to its absolute limit.”

  There was fire and anger in her eyes.

  “Please, Catherine. Listen to my words, for they are said for no other purpose than to keep you and Eva-Maria free from harm.”

  Her expression softened at his obvious concern.

  “How did you come to know, of Julia?” she asked.

  “That’s not important,” he replied, shaking his head. “But it is clear she is the one who has been alerting the authorities to mine and Rosa’s whereabouts. I suspect she may have informed them of our arrangements.”

  “Julia would never betray me in such a manner,” she said disbelievingly.

  “Do not misunderstand me, Catherine. In an odd sort of way I do not believe she intends you harm, but searches for a way to thwart your ambitions in Brussels in an attempt to bring you back to the village permanently.”

  He could sense Catherine’s mind to be in turmoil, trying to rationalise how her ex-lover would do such a thing. However she had come to trust the Englishman and his instincts about the motivations of other people.

  “Do you intend to kill Julia, for her treachery?”

  He was surprised to hear the question, quickly shaking his head to refute the idea.

  “No. I don’t believe she knows her own mind. Besides, two young children need their mother,” he replied. “I cannot speak for Rosa.”

  Catherine was briefly silent.

  “I do not wish Julia to be harmed. Will you speak to Rosa about this?”

  He sighed deeply.

  “No. Rosa must judge this for herself.”

  A further, longer silence followed.

  “It happened many years ago.”

  “Catherine, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” he chipped in quickly.

  “I wish you to know, to understand.”

  Matt sighed deeply again.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “People often view such things as matters of the body, of inclination. Rarely do they see beyond,” she began. “Julia and I connected at a young age. It was a meeting of two spirits, of two souls, and we became inseparable. Neither of us viewed the relationship as strange, and our close friendship failed to deter any of the boys from the village. So everything was ... normal.”

  Matt smiled patiently as she continued to recount the story of her youth.

  “It was one summer’s night, after we had both showered on a sleepover at the house of Julia’s parents, when the first unintended touch happened. We both knew, immediately, of its true meaning. It grew from there ...”

  Catherine hesitated for a fleeting moment, and Matt could sense the words were coming from deep within her heart.

  “Life was spectacularly good for the next few years. No-one appeared to suspect our friendship was anything more or, if they did, nothing was said.”

  She paused again.

  “We were so happy together. And then ... my family were taken away.”

  “In the car accident,” Matt offered.

  “Yes. I took this as a sign my life had been preserved for a purpose and, shortly after, made the decision. Julia said she understood when I told her of my intention. I could see in her eyes this was untrue.”

  She sighed deeply.

  “Life was hard during those early days in Brussels, to be apart from her. However I believed my purpose was right and returned to St Wolfgang less and less. When Eva-Maria was conceived, I believed the bond between us was finally broken, and never returned to the village again after my daughter was adopted.”

  He looked into Catherine’s moist eyes and found himself admiring her sense of purpose, her strength of character.

  “I have returned to the village this recess because of the importance of what it is we must do together, and because it was you who asked me.”

  Matt sighed deeply for a third time and considered his next sentence.

  “I will speak to Rosa,” he said.

  She met his gaze with an appreciative and grateful look.

  “Thank you.”

  Matt had no idea how he was going to broach the subject with Rosa, though he had a good idea how she would react to his interference. Still, he had given his word and he was going to have to deal with it, somehow.

  This was the fifth morning of their stay at the Schafbergspitze hotel. Matt’s eyes reluctantly opened to the daylight filling the room. The weather had closed in overnight, engulfing the mountain top with dark clouds and a mixture of torrential rain and heavy snowfall.

  The air temperature outside the bed covers was decidedly cold, well below freezing. He decided to roll over and make one final futile attempt to sleep a little longer, by adjusting his body into a more favourable position. The bruising from the beating he had taken still discomfited him, though it was nowhere near as unpalatable as the first night. Eventually he managed to settle into the firm mattress of the double bed.

  That’ll do for now, he decided as he lay quietly alone with his thoughts.

  Two days ago it had been Christmas Day, sparse and barren given their current circumstances, though no-one seemed to mind. At least the past days had given all an opportunity to get to know each other, a chance to gel as a group, which was a good thing. Relationships had been formed, understandings established.

  Rosa had warmed to Catherine, leading Matt to hope his eventual discussion with the blue eyed assassin might go better than he dared to originally hope. The rapport between the two women also served to ease Matt’s lingering feeling of uneasiness about the name Catherine Vogel.

  A cacophony of noise alerted Matt to the arrival of the Austrian owners of the hotel accompanied, by the sound of it, with Martin. He could hear Martha’s distinct tones asking of his whereabouts.

  “Matthew, where is Matthew?” and he bemoaned the fact he was going to have to rise from the warm bed and welcome the arrivals. They had made the effort to brave the weather, he supposed, it would be discourteous not to rise.

  Not yet, he decided, a few more minutes.

  “Jesus Christ!” he suddenly exclaimed and leapt naked from the bed to a chorus of unbridled female laughter.

  Desperately trying to hide his modesty with the bed pillow he looked up to see Rosa accompanied by the adolescent glee of Eva-Maria, each one armed with another threatening ball of snow in their hands. He closed his eyes in resigned acceptance over what was to come, and felt each of the wickedly cold and wet missiles slam against his unprotected body. Thinking he was over the worst he opened his eyes to the diminutive form of Martha, armed in both hands, and quickly closed them shut again.

  “Aargh!” was the best he could utter as the two projectiles sprayed his unshielded to
rso with merciless accuracy, causing even more mirth from the three intruders.

  And then, as quickly as they had come, they were gone.

  “You’re not really a man are you?” he said looking up to the heavens. “No man would allow this to happen,” as the female laughter continued to shrill in the corridor outside.

  Half an hour went by before Matt emerged from the double bedroom to join the waiting throng of giggles. Catherine was working, as always, on the minutiae of the conference entirely oblivious to the earlier events.

  Matt rounded the table where she was seated to get a cup of coffee when he glanced at the official looking document, and spotted it. The same bold, expressive signature he had seen once before. And he remembered. He froze, in the manner of being struck by a Star Trek phaser weapon placed on stun.

  “It’s you!” he yelled at the clever Austrian woman.

  Catherine’s startled face turned to look at him.

  “You,” he repeated. “You are the author of the document. You’ve been in on this conspiracy all the time, working against us.”

  She was motionless, seemingly unable to reply.

  “Matt,” said Rosa. “What are you talking about?”

  “Catherine is the architect of the global constitution. The one they intend to invoke after they’ve murdered most of the world.”

  “No,” said Catherine quietly, shaking her head.

  “It is you,” he yelled “I recognise the signature. Don’t even try to deny it. You know the people behind this thing, because you’re part of it!”

  “Surely not,” interjected Martha. “Surely you have made a mistake.”

  The room fell into an awkward silence. All eyes turned towards Catherine, her head bowed in an attempt to avoid their attention.

  “Things are not as they might appear,” she offered. “The document was drafted in preparation for the next extension of the EU, and circulated to others for information.”

  “Not as they appear?” he shouted. “The evidence is there, in the files. There’s enough information for me to put a bullet right into the middle of that smart little head of yours!”

  “Please, Matt. Do not press me on this issue. I do not work against you, you have my word,” she said.

  “Your word is worth shit all, you treacherous b...”

  “Matt!” shouted Rosa. “Give her a chance to explain.”

  “Give her a chance! How many more chances do you want to give her? She is not trying to help us. She’s leading us into a trap.”

  “Matt,” insisted Rosa, walking over to hold his hand, “I want to hear what Catherine has to say. Please, for me. Do this for me.”

  He angrily shook his hand out of Rosa’s grasp and turned away to look at the wall, exhaling deeply. Rosa wrapped her arms around Matt’s waist from behind and rested her head against his shoulder blade.

  “People have died. So many more will die ... unless I stop this thing. I have to stop it from happening,” he said quietly.

  “We will stop it, Matt. We’ll do it together, as a team. Let her explain,” she whispered softly, “I believe we can trust Catherine.”

  Rosa was the last person he expected to support a traitor in their midst. Nevertheless, her gentle words lessened the fury from his enraged mind.

  “Alright, but she tells us here and now,” he insisted, turning to face the traitor.

  “I would rather we talk about this matter privately,” said Catherine.

  “Not an option,” he replied. “You told me in Brussels you had heard of this guy Kimber. That’s not true, is it? You know him, and know him well.”

  “Matt, please. Do not press me here.”

  “No, Catherine. Here and now. You know this man well, don’t you?” he shouted.

  He could see the reluctance in her eyes and knew Catherine was trying to conceal a truth from them. He wasn’t prepared to accept it.

  “Who is he, Catherine, who?”

  “He is the father of my child!” she shouted back. “The man I told you of, the one who helped me when I was young and in trouble.”

  “Kimber is Eva-Maria’s real father!” exclaimed Matt.

  No sooner had the words escaped from his mouth then he realised the enormity of the careless remark. His eyes darted across to Eva-Maria, face aghast with the sudden realisation. She uttered no words, only burst into tears and stormed from the building out onto the concrete walkway into the heavily falling snow. Matt’s gaze shifted to the distraught Catherine and he wished for the ground beneath his feet to open up and swallow him.

  “Matthew, what have you done?” asked Martha.

  He thought no more, just reached for the overcoat hanging over the back of the chair and ran after the distressed young woman.

  “Eva-Maria,” he called.

  “Go away! Get away from me,” she sobbed. He refused her demand and reached out to grab her arm from behind.

  “Leave me alone!” she shouted, trying vigorously to free her limb from his desperate grasp. He had no intention of leaving her alone and tightened his hold instead. Finally, he was able to wrap the overcoat and his arms tightly around her sobbing frame so she could hardly move.

  “Let me go!” she screamed.

  “No, no” he soothed, “I can’t let go of you Eva-Maria. I’m afraid to let go, afraid you will never trust or believe in me again.”

  She shook her body violently to try and free herself from his clutches. He held firm, refused to let go and release her to the elements. It took some time before she decided to give up the struggle, and allowed him to stroke her hair and kiss the top of her head without further resistance.

  “How could she not tell me when everybody else knew? How could she deny me the right to know, pretending I was little more than a mere office clerk? I hate her!”

  Matt’s mind desperately searched for the right words, some sort of response to mend and heal a wound of betrayal of his own making.

  “That night,” he began. “That one night I spent with your mother in a hotel in Brussels; she in the mezzanine, me lying uncomfortably below on a hard unforgiving sofa bed. We were supposed to be talking about how to bring an end to this conspiracy. Instead, all Catherine could talk about was her daughter. The way her child smiled. The way she walked and talked; the manner in which she rubbed her nose with her thumb when confused by a word used in conversation. She talked of the way her baby had grown into the most elegant of young women, eyes shining brightly with all the hope and expectation youth naturally brings.”

  Eva-Maria spluttered a cry into his chest.

  “Catherine talked with a mother’s pride about her child on that night, as only a loving mother can. She revealed the years of mental torment she had endured at not being able to hold her own child to her bosom, until that night in Brussels. It was the first time she had been able to hold you as a mother. And it was the one, defining moment that persuaded Catherine to risk all she has achieved in life in order to help Rosa and myself.”

  She was silent as they rocked gently under the falling snow. Her tears had ended, replaced by a deep contemplation over his attempted words of comfort.

  “Catherine can never replace the years you have both lost,” he added. “Only fill the ones you have left together. This could happen, should you allow it, as your mother loves you more than life itself. I know this to be true, for she would not let me sleep that night until she had told me all about you.”

  He felt her arms tighten around his waist and her head press harder against his chest.

  “It is you. You are the one that should have been my father, Matt ... only you.”

  “Hey! Hey! Hey! Steady now,” he said, “I hope I’ve got a few more good years left in me yet,” and she laughed gently.

  Martha pushed the window to a close, turned and walked over to place a comforting hand on to the shoulder of the crying Austrian woman.

  “Alles ist gut, Catherine,” she said, tenderly.

  Eva-Maria was hesitant on re-enteri
ng the room, and looked cautiously at the array of caring eyes that fell upon her nervous form. The seated woman rose on realising what had happened and turned towards the young woman, beads of liquid rolling down her sad and anxious face. She raised her arms and stretched them out towards Eva-Maria, more in hope than expectation.

  The young woman’s eyes moistened as she gazed upon the figure with the expression pleading for forgiveness. And then she darted towards the waiting, emotional embrace, causing Matt to experience a range of incredible, unfamiliar feelings.

  Martha’s words broke the spell.

  “Johannes was the best of all men,” she said proudly to him. “And I did not believe I would meet his like again. But you, Matthew, you are a match to Johannes,” and she smiled at the human shape stood behind him.

  Matt turned to see Rosa’s half smile.

  “You see,” she said with a gleeful smile. “I was right to call you Dad in Victoria,” and gave out one of her throaty laughs.

  Matt smiled blankly still trying to make sense of Martha’s words, what she had truly meant.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  My name is...