The Milieu Principle

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The Milieu Principle Page 36

by Malcolm Franks

Matt’s gloved hands fumbled with the controls. Whatever he tried brought an errant track into play, producing sounds that were anathema to his ears. His fingers felt like ice, chilled by a cold northerly wind common for the time of year. He sighed in defeat at his lack of prowess and let the machine decide.

  Cursing at the apparent complexity of new technology he raised the binoculars to his eyes and gazed out, contemplating his return to the island to face the ghosts from the past.

  A lone bird, floating in the mountainous sky on a current of air, caught his eye. He marvelled at the effortless way the creature hung there, defying gravity like no other species on the planet. As the opening chords of the next tune began to sound in his ears his mind drifted back in time.

  You were wrong, Dad, he thought. Not everyone betrays you in the end. Some, perhaps most, will. But there are a small number, a few people like Jack and Rosa, who will never let you down. Such people should be treasured and always kept close.

  A light tap on his shoulder made him turn and he saw Rosa mouthing his name.

  “What?” he said. He removed the earphones and switched off the music player.

  “So that’s why you couldn’t hear me. Have you managed to get the hang of it yet?

  He shook his head disconsolately.

  “Well you can’t give up. Eva-Maria spent a lot of money on that present for you.”

  “I know,” he said. “It’ll do what I tell it too one day.”

  “They’re nearly ready to go,” said Rosa.

  “I’m ready whenever they are,” he responded with a smile.

  Rosa stood alongside and they gazed out across the valley.

  “What were you looking at?”

  “Sumac Pacha,” he replied.

  “Yeah, she is pretty special isn’t she?”

  He nodded in agreement, his heart beating that touch faster at Rosa’s presence by his side.

  “Did you see the terrorist attack on the news?” she asked.

  “Yes, it was dreadful, too awful for words. Sometimes you wonder if Scurrelli and his crowd had the right idea.”

  “What did Catherine say to you?”

  “She reckons they’ve rounded most of them up. A few are still at large, but it should only be a matter of time before they track them down.”

  “I meant about her offer.”

  “I didn’t raise the subject and neither did she. It’s not what I want to do with the rest of my life, licence to kill and all that. Despite Catherine’s insistence I have some kind of aptitude for it, I think she’s wrong.”

  “You’re not a regular nine to five guy, Matt. And you have been well trained,” Rosa said, giving out a throaty laugh.

  “No,” he smiled. “I’ve killed enough, it’s not for me.”

  She paused for a few moments.

  “So, Mike Daniels will return home to the North East of England.”

  He shook his head.

  “Catherine tells me Michael Daniels was certified as dead several months ago, killed during a gun fight with police on a motorway in England. Not that I’ll miss him. He was such a prick. Besides, Matt Durham is more my sort of guy.”

  She nudged her head against his shoulder and laughed.

  “Yeah, he’s more my sort of guy too,” she said. “But what will Matt Durham do for the rest of his life, hang around in Europe?”

  Now it was his turn to pause.

  “Apart from the scenery, there’s nothing much else to keep me here. It would take more of a reason than pretty views to make me want to stay. So I’ve decided to go home.”

  “Home, where?”

  “Victoria, it’s where I belong. Jack was good enough to leave his estate to me. The least I could do is make a go of it. I owe him that much.”

  Rosa went silent for a while, seemingly deep in thought.

  “Will you go and see Jenna?” she asked, quietly.

  Matt hunched his shoulders.

  “I owe her a grovelling apology, as a minimum. Then again, I’m probably no longer her type.”

  She laughed again.

  “What about you, Rosa Cain? What will you do now?” he asked.

  Rosa shrugged.

  “Johannes was extremely generous in his will. So generous I’ll never need to work again and can spend my days as a lady of leisure. More likely I’ll end up being tagged as The Merry Widow of St Wolfgang.”

  He smiled, hesitantly.

  They stood awhile gazing out over the mountains before both tried to speak at the same time, and they laughed at the coincidence.

  “You go first,” he said.

  “A warm night in Canada,” she said. “It’s puzzled me ever since you said it and I ...”

  “Matthew, Matthew,” sounded Martha’s fast approaching, breathless voice. “It is time.” She stopped suddenly. “Oh my dears, I did not mean to interrupt ...”

  Matt looked to Rosa. She shook her head to indicate the earlier sentence would remain unfinished.

  “It’s alright, Martha. I’m coming,” he said.

  They linked arms as they followed the older woman down the path to the waiting engine.

  “You will keep your promise, about Julia?”

  “Maybe,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

  “Rosa!”

  “Alright, I suppose I did make you some sort of promise.”

  He squeezed her arm as they walked.

  “Thank you.”

  They remained silent for the remainder of the stroll. He deliberated over the question on his mind. Before he knew it, they had joined up with the others.

  Matt shook Gerhardt firmly by the hand then wrapped his arms around Martha and pecked her cheeks, as she cried at his departure. Turning to Rosa, he saw in her eyes she sought no physical contact from him.

  “Safe journey, Matt Durham,” was all she said.

  “Goodbye, Rosa Cain,” he smiled warmly, and climbed aboard the steam powered taxi.

  Matt lost sight of them quickly as the engine disappeared into the tunnel, but soon saw them again once the train exited the other side and curved back into view. He watched as the three figures waved him down the hill, Martha’s arm clinging tightly around Rosa’s waist.

  “Did you not ask him the question?” asked Martha.

  “Not really. Matt is intent on returning to Victoria, back to where he feels he belongs,” Rosa replied.

  “Oh Rosa, let me ring down.”

  “No,” she said quietly, “If Matt had anything on his mind he would have said something.”

  The train was almost at the Schafbergalpe. Matt raised the binoculars to his eyes to look at the trio standing at the edge of the plateau. He focussed the lens upon Rosa’s beautiful face as the distance between them grew ever larger.

  “Martin,” he shouted forwards.

  “Yes, Matt. What is it?”

  The Englishman hesitated, long enough for the train to reach the steep downhill section of track. The machine lurched as it dipped sharply for the next leg of the journey. Matt glanced aside to make sure his hand had a firm hold of the railing, to maintain his balance. Once secure, he raised the binoculars back to his eyes.

  When he looked back up the plateau was gone and Rosa’s beautiful face had disappeared from view.

  “What is it, Matt?” repeated the driver.

  He hesitated to collect his thoughts.

  “It’s alright, Martin,” he replied. “It’s nothing; it doesn’t matter now.”

  Published by Milieu Publishing,

  45 Barrasford Road,

  Newton Hall,

  Durham,

  DH1 5NB

  Copyright © Malcolm Franks

  Coming next;

  Milieu Dawn

  The brute of a man raised an arm to his chest, freeing his weapon from its holster. Matt closed his eyes and thanked God the end was near. He would have been interested to read what was on the print out. It didn’t seem all that important now.

  Matt had taken enough, done as much as
he could. Someone else would have to take up the fight. His mind urged him to show them no fear. He re-opened his weary eyes and looked into the barrel of the gun.

  ISBN 978-0-9566944-1-6

 


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