Counterpoint

by John Day

  “Can I have a shower?” She asked. “I take it, you have one?”

  “Oh! Yes, by all means, let me get a towel for you. Use my stuff if you like.”

  She thanked him and he started moving again.

  Whilst introducing herself as Carla Day, and exchanging pleasantries, she looked casually around the van. Single man, fifty-ish, some sort of professional on a long touring holiday she surmised. The man is organized, everything neat and tidy, all the comforts of home, including Mobile phone, computer and G.P.S. No sign of a woman, or children, in his life.

  She spread out the contents of her bag as the van rounded the final hairpin bend on the stretch leading to the tunnel.

  “We will go through the tunnel in a few minutes.” She thought. “I hope he keeps his brain in his dick like most men.”

  “You don’t mind the internal light being on do you?” She asked.

  “No, no problem.” Max replied, “I will drive very steady, so you don’t get thrown around in the shower.”

  “Thanks!”

  “This is it,” she thought.

  Standing in the centre of the van she slowly removed her outer clothes, carefully placing them on the seat. Her movements were slow and deliberate as though she was on her own, stripping for an imaginary lover. She could see he was watching her in his mirror, but she did not let on.

  The tunnel was now in the lights. She turned to face the front and removed her bra. Max could hardly tear his eyes away from the mirror; she appeared not to notice his stare. When Carla saw his eyes move and focus on the road in the tunnel she called out.

  “Let me know if I can do anything for you!”

  Still facing the mirror, she slipped off her panties. When his eyes returned to the mirror, she slowly turned her back on him, and he was transfixed hoping she would turn to face him again.

  He exited the tunnel and blurted out “No! No! It’s my pleasure, anything for a damsel in distress.”

  Carla smiled to herself and stepped into the shower.

  When she was finished, she stepped out with the towel around her. Although covered and respectable, she still looked and moved invitingly. Walking up to him and standing between the front seats, she lent close to him. He breathed in the fragrances of fresh, clean skin, shampoo, body lotion, and toothpaste. It was quite erotic.

  Carla asked Max if he was going to stop soon, or drive until they got to town.

  Max wanted to stop and climb into the sack with her, immediately, but before he could answer, she said, “I must get into Piedimonte Matese by 6.00am tomorrow if you could do that for me?”

  “Oh! Right, of course, my pleasure,” said Max barely keeping the disappointment out of his voice. No wonder her guy ditched her, the little tease!

  “I must get some sleep,” said Carla. “And keep out of your way, you are so kind and such a perfect gentleman. Night! Night!” She said, innocently.

  When she had settled down, he looked at her in the mirror and thought. “She is so sweet, how could anyone be so nasty to her?” He felt pleased with himself for being a gentleman and her protector.

  Max drove on for about 20 minutes until he found a convenient place to stop, well out of sight from the road. Rather than disturb the girl by getting fresh bedding, he took his sleeping bag out and lay on the other bed. Setting his watch to ping at 5.00am, just enough time to freshen up, cook a breakfast, and drive into town for 6.00am.

  He fell into a fitful sleep.

  Carla did not sleep much though, she was thinking about her next move and listening for the sound of vehicles or a helicopter. Either or both would mean Philippe and his men were back on her trail already.

  She had to get back to her hideaway, money was not a problem thanks to the contents of Philippe’s wallet, but by morning, the area would be crawling with people looking out for her. Once she got to Piedimonte Matese, she could at least arrange to collect her car from the railway station, nearby.

  Carla had caught the train to a number of towns, depositing cash stolen from the drug deal into new accounts. It was then that Philippe’s men caught her.

  She filed the problem with her subconscious and drifted into a restless sleep.

  Sleepily, Max awoke, a few minutes before 5.00am.

  Cancelling the alarm, he quietly carried out his ablutions and then made breakfast. He knew Carla was not asleep, but she did not attempt to speak until he called her to the table, and then she only mumbled a thank you. Eating quickly, she got up and dressed whilst Max cleared the table.

  Carla still had not come up with a plan and did not want to answer any awkward questions, so avoided any eye contact with Max that might start him off.

  Somewhat miffed at her unfriendly attitude, Max started the van and headed for town. As they entered town Max said unnecessarily that they had arrived and where did she want to be dropped off.

  Part of him wanted to see the back of her because she was impolite and moody. Deep down, he did not want to lose her. Awareness of his conflicting feelings, made him cross with himself.

  “Pull yourself together,” he thought. “One sniff of pussy and you lose it, get rid of the bitch!”

  Carla replied, “See that street, by the red car, just there will do!” She turned to pick up her bag and briefcase, but Max braked hard throwing her off her feet.

  “Christ!” He exclaimed! “They are getting out with guns!”

  Three men got out of the red car leaving the driver and a passenger, as the camper van approached. The nearest man had a handgun near his side. To Max’s untrained eye, it looked like the gun was fitted with a suppressor.

  Carla had regained her balance and shouted.

  “Turn left here, up the side street.”

  Max turned without a second thought, towards the side street. “Damn it!” He shouted. “We won’t get through, it’s too narrow.”

  He carried on anyway. It was tight, so tight that the wing mirrors alternately scraped the walls as the van accelerated down the alley.

  The moment the van headed towards the alley, the men leapt back into their car and the driver reversed back up the road past the turning, then forward into it, blue smoke pouring from the front tyres of the red car. They were in hot pursuit, after the van.

  Carla’s plan, the one she was working on all last night, suddenly hatched. She had that gift of inspired thought under pressure, and it was only just in time.

  “Stop at the end of the alley so we can open the cab doors and get out,” she shouted.

  Concentrating fully on keeping off the walls, Max only managed a fleeting glance, towards Carla. What was she up to? What was going on? Who were the men chasing him, and why?

  Carla turned off the ignition and pulled out the key causing the racing engine to cut out, she pushed the gear lever into neutral as the van started to slow.

  Max did not have the opportunity to ask why.

  The pursuing car, rammed into the van’s tow bar, trying to push the van forward, out of the ally. Another lightning mind had already anticipated Carla.

  Max braked hard as he approached the road junction and stopped the van half in, half out of the alley.

  Carla had already grabbed Max’s jacket, her bag, and briefcase and was climbing around the front seat, to get out. Max did the same and followed Carla in the main street.

  There was no way for the light car to push the 2 ton van forward out of the alley, it only succeeded in burning rubber as the wheels spun on the smooth cobbles, impaling itself deeper onto the tow bar. The rear nudge bar stopped any further advance.

  Although the men could get out of their car on one side, they could not get past the van, so the driver reversed hard, leaving bits of his vehicle hanging off the tow bar. The car shot backwards straight as an arrow, down the alley and into the main road, then headed up the next alley towards the market place.

  Under cover of the crowd in the market, even at this early hour, Max and Carla slipped away.

  The men searched the van as
the car drove off, but did not find what they wanted. The bandaged passenger in the car made mobile phone calls, alerting other searchers for Carla, that she had been seen, and had a man helping her. He made it clear they must be taken alive, and the briefcase, must be recovered.

  Max found it difficult to keep up the brisk walk behind Carla; she glided along, weaving in and around people like someone hurrying purposefully to catch a bus. Just when it looked as though she would continue ahead, she would dart down a side street.

  Max took his eyes off her for a moment, and she just seemed to disappear. He was looking about for her when she pulled him back, into the shop doorway he had just passed.

  “How do you do that?” He exclaimed! You just disappeared. You know we are going round in circles, don’t you?”

  “I am just checking to see if we are being followed,” replied Carla. “Right, tell me what this is all about,” Max demanded.

  “Not now,” she snapped. “The answers will be no good to you if you are dead. Come in here!”

  They entered the small back street shop selling sports clothing and equipment, mainly aimed at tourists. Max followed her in, feeling apprehensive about the immediate future, his breathing was fast, and deep like he had been running hard, yet the air in his lungs seemed without oxygen. He felt as though he was being smothered.

  The panic attack soon passed.

  The shop seemed so normal and safe; perhaps this was all an unpleasant dream. He thought; you never seem to get answers to questions in dreams, reality blends with the bizarre. You know it is wrong somehow, but cannot quite focus your mind to seek out the truth.

  Max focused his mind on the reality. Carla was ordering clothes for the both of them. What was she up to now?

  Large backpacks, peaked caps, dark sunglasses denim jackets and jeans and trainers. Without discussion, realizing this was some sort of disguise; Max went along with it, though he wondered who was picking up the bill for all this.

  The clothes fitted well, and the two of them looked utterly transformed. For the first time since last night, Carla looked into Max’s eyes and gave him a deep warm smile. It took him by surprise. He felt himself relaxing and involuntarily, his face smiled at her in return. This happened without any conscious effort on his part, his conscious mind was still trying to take in and make sense of it all. When he realized their eyes were still locked on each other, and his face was now beaming, he felt happy, embarrassed a warm glow all over.

  Pulling himself together, he broke the gaze. She turned and paid from a thick wad of high denomination Euro notes, out of Philippe’s wallet.

  She asked the shopkeeper if he could recommend a good garage to repair their vehicle, it would need to be towed away, and if she could use his phone.

  He was delighted to help. Speaking to the garage in fluent Italian, she explained the camper van had broken down in a side street near the market, and needed to be towed away and repaired because someone had driven into the back, as well. The garage said they knew about the van, the police had already been in touch with them, to remove the obstruction. Carla said she was on her way to the police station and would call them again to sort out payment when they had found a hotel to stay in.

  Packing their old clothes and bag into the rucksacks, and Philippe’s briefcase in a large carrier bag, they left the shop hand in hand. To any onlookers, they were apparently chatting enthusiastically about their holiday.

  At the first hotel they came to, they booked in as a couple in Max’s surname. They filled out the usual forms and passport details. Having explained their breakdown, and they had to see the police at once, the hotel took photocopies of their passports and handed them back.

  Along the street from the hotel was a small house offering bed and breakfast, Max was amazed when Carla walked in and booked the room.

  Formalities were non-existent, only cash was needed, in advance.

  They went to the room; a small and rather dirty place sparsely furnished with a sagging double bed, a dressing table, and a carved antique chair. Sanitary facilities were at the end of the passage overlooking the back yard.

  Carla said, “We must split up now, I have things to do and you must see the police. They do not need to know about me, or the fact people are after us. Here is some money to cover fines and smooth out any irregularities.”

  She also wrote down the name and address of the garage and who to talk to and said. “Pay them a good deposit for repairs and don’t mention this place, say we are at the hotel. I will see you here in four hours. The men who are after us will be watching the garage, so go with the Police.”

  “Where the hell are you going?” Exclaimed Max.

  “Don’t worry, I will be back, and I promise I will explain everything then. Trust me!”

  “Where have I heard that before?” Said Max to himself.

  Carla left.

  Max sorted things out with the Police and phoned the garage, telling them there was a cash deposit, held at the hotel in their name, could they collect it.

  At 10.00am, he decided to have a coffee to kill the remaining half hour before meeting Carla, so he chose a small cafe, just opposite a Bank. He went to a table near the window, and sat facing the street.

  Although he was extremely hot and seats were available outside, he did not want to push his luck and be seen by his pursuers. He realized they had not had a good look at him and that he had changed his clothes, but better safe than sorry.

  He was just taking his first sip when Carla sidestepped into the Bank. A curious move if analysed. Max knew how she had this knack of invisibility, but to anyone else, it would not have been noticed.

  Close behind, moving furtively, was the man who stood by the red car, the one with the gun. Hell! What should he do! Another man went into the bank, after glancing around him. I bet that is another of them thought Max.

  Max walked over to the counter and whispered to the waiter. “I think there is a robbery taking place in the Bank, phone the police.”

  The man hesitated. “They had guns when they went in,” Max urged. The man picked up the phone and spoke to the police. A few minutes later, police on foot and in cars had encircled the building. No one had left the Bank or could enter since the call to the police.

  Armed Police entered the Bank.

  Thirty minutes later, people were escorted out and went on their way. Carla was one of them; she was the last to leave. The two men had been arrested and taken out the back entrance for attempted armed robbery, because they both carried guns, and were known felons.

  Max decided to follow Carla, no easy task because she was checking for a tail all the time. He thought it unwise to get closer than 10 metres and to keep other people in between them. In general, she was heading back to the house, so he felt sure if he lost her, he would see her again there.

  Max stumbled, looked down and back at her, but she had vanished. “Damn! How does she do that?” He walked on looking all around to see if he could pick up her trail, but no, she had disappeared.

  He reached the house and found the room empty, she had not returned. The rucksacks were still on the bed where they had left them. Max suddenly felt desperately alone, and vulnerable. In despair, he let out a deep sigh, kicked out at the bed sending it screeching, wood on tiles, sliding across the room. He walked past it and slumped down in the chair. Slowly he raised his eyes from the floor, his face sad and dismal, his eyes started to fill with tears. Never to see her again was more than he could stand, would he ever see her cute face again. Max looked unseeing, through the open doorway, into the shadow beyond; then he saw her. Carla was standing there, perfectly still, looking back at him. Startled, he blinked, not believing his eyes. A tear escaped and ran down his cheek. Leaping up and wiping away the tear, his face lit up again, as he strode towards her.

  “Where the hell have you been?” He exclaimed, emotions arising from despair to happiness, and then to anger.

  Carla just smiled back at him and walked into the roo
m. “You weren’t bad, but you need a lot of practice if you want to follow me,” she teased. “By the way, thanks for calling the Police, I was in deep trouble with those men; they were forcing me to transfer my money to their boss’s offshore account.”

  “I want to know what is going on,” Max demanded, “You promised you would tell me.”

  “Yes, I did, but we must leave at once,” she said, grabbing her backpack and the briefcase. She was out the door before Max could question her further. A silver Honda Prelude pulled up outside the house, just as they stepped out onto the pavement. Max stepped back into the entrance again, thinking more trouble was on its way.

  “Don’t worry soothed Carla, this is my car, the man is only delivering it. The car is a bit old, but it will do the job.”

  The man got out; she thanked him and put the luggage on the back seat. They both got in, and she drove off.

  Max pestered her for answers to his questions, but she refused to explain. Her only comment was that he would be dead by now or wish he was, but for her help and that knowing more would not be good for him. She would take him to a safe place until his van was repaired and returned to him, and then he should leave Italy. Resigned to the following silence, Max went to sleep.

  Chapter - Carla’s Hideaway.

  Apart from four stops for fuel, food and the toilet, Carla drove for twelve hours until they reached a small mountainside town called Rubiana. With towering mountains to the north, a full moon lit the valley with a pale light, emphasizing the size of them. It was 11.00pm, and only a few people were visible on the narrow town streets.

  Carla drove up to a wide security gate serving a large block of shops. Reaching out she tapped in a code and the gate slid open. It closed as soon as she passed through and a large roller shutter door opened ahead, it also closed after the car entered. Lights came on when the door shut and they both got out of the car, taking their bags with them. Neither of them spoke.