Counterpoint

by John Day

  “This is my little hideaway,” Carla chuckled, as she unlocked the final, solid inner door.

  “Close your eyes Max.”

  Reaching for his hand, she pulled him gently through the opening. “You can open them now,” she said in a low voice.

  Max was astonished at the scene before him. He was in a large atrium with a fountain in the centre and a garden set out around it. Plants climbed on three walls, creating a deep feeling of peace and security. Ahead of them was a two-storey brick building, topped by a stone parapet. French doors and balconies on the front looked out onto the garden. Max was fascinated at the originality of the building and its surroundings.

  “This is truly fantastic,” he murmured. “Who owns it?”

  "I do," said Carla, “this is my home.”

  “No, I don’t believe you, how could you, you're what, mid-twenties, living like a fugitive, no roots or family, what are you up to now?”

  The smile vanished from her face, hurt by the mistrust and contempt in his voice.

  “Come in,” she said sullenly. “I will tell you all you need to know.”

  Max retorted “That will be a first.”

  The massive pair of entrance doors, made with sturdy hardwood frames, glazed centres and brass fittings were set in a red brick arch in the centre of the facade. They opened easily into a 4m square hall. The floor was of polished flagstones and in the centre, a richly coloured deep pile silk rug. The walls were of red clay brick with niches and feature lighting. The white domed ceiling reflected light down into the room and contrasted with the dark, curved timber frames rising up from the corners of the room, meeting in the centre of the dome. The sparsely furnished room, had antiques around the walls and a centrepiece of a substantial, carved, dark wood table. The room smelled faintly of polish and hardwood. The whole effect was stunning in its simplicity, choice of materials and lighting.

  Placing her bag and keys on the table, she walked through into the lounge, turned briefly to see Max was following and sat down.

  “Take a seat,” She said, as Max looked around, stunned again at the beautifully appointed, yet welcoming room. Settling down in a large armchair opposite her, he looked stern, focusing on her eyes, looking for the telltale eye movement down to the right when a lie is uttered.

  Carla spoke. “I was given this place, two years ago by an incredible seventy-eight year old man called the Duke. He is not actually a Duke, but he has all the airs and graces of one. All those who have the privilege of knowing him, love him. I don’t know exactly how he made all his money, but he practically owns the town. Six years ago his wife died tragically when her car plunged over the side of Angel Pass, near here. He was emotionally destroyed at her loss.

  I met him in London a few months later, and thought he might be my ticket to an easy life. I was living on the streets, taking drugs and into thievery and prostitution. I followed him back to his Hotel, found out his name, and after cleaning myself up, got his attention the following day.

  I am too ashamed of what I did, to tell you, but he fell for it, and he was hooked. At least I thought he was at the time, but he was no fool. Anyway, he took me under his wing so to speak, and bought me a flat here, in the village.

  I think he fell in love with me, and although we were never intimate, he educated me, took me with him everywhere, including significant social occasions, and helped me to reach my potential.

  He built this place as his private retreat away from prying eyes for his private business meetings. He owns the whole building, four streets of shops forming a quadrangle. The backs of the shops formed the walls of this atrium. The owners of the shops are trusted friends and their families, so although they know of its existence, I doubt if any of them have been in here, apart from the cleaner and maintenance man. The people who built it were brought in from abroad.

  When he went into semi-retirement a year ago, he gave it to me, just as you see it, as a reward for my kindness and loyalty. More than I deserve you may think, but I did bring him back from the depths of despair, and the cost of this place to him, was but coins thrown to a beggar.”

  Max believed her explanation; he could detect no trace of a lie in her expression. He could imagine how easy it would be to fall in love with this girl. A tinge of jealousy ran through him, when he thought more about the Duke’s closeness to her. Wealth like that would make any man attractive to some girls he thought, regardless of the man’s age.

  Carla fell silent for a moment, then slowly getting up she said. “I am tired and going to bed, I will show you your room.”

  Walking away, she offered no opportunity for further discussion, so he followed without speaking.

  His room was extremely luxurious, small, but with every convenience including French doors to a balcony overlooking the garden. The lighting was now subdued, the backlit plants smelled and looked so exotic, little light was reflected up in the room, most came from the glass roof of the atrium, where the moonlight shone through.

  Carla pointed out the essentials of the bedroom and walked away saying. “Make yourself at home; I will see you in the morning.”

  Left on his own to explore, he felt jealous, and angry. He could see no way of competing with the Duke for her affections, damn it, she did not even seem to like him.

  Next morning Max awoke to the sound of a twenty-year-old Italian girl calling him.

  “Good morning, Mr Max. I am the maid, Maria, I have brought your breakfast, I put it on your balcony.”

  Max muttered. “Thank you,” and she continued. “It is 9.00am and a lovely morning. Miss Carla has gone out and will not be back until noon, but asked me to tell you, she would love to take you to lunch in town, if you would care to join her. She said don’t worry about what to wear because she will buy what you want, then.”

  Maria continued again, “There is a gymnasium with a small plunge pool on the right hand side of the entrance hall if you care to use it. I will be here cleaning, so if you need me, just call out Maria, and I will come to you.”

  The girl was beautiful. She was petite, had a cute face with high cheekbones, framed by shoulder length black hair that gleamed in the sunlight, and a natural brown complexion. She wore an understated grey dress, possibly a little shorter than it needed to be, a white lace edged pinafore, and flat soled black shoes. Her legs were slender and shapely, propelling her gracefully across and out of the room.

  Although undeniably stunning, technically much more so than Carla, Maria did not stir his soul as Carla did; that unsettled him.

  Striding off in just his underpants Max headed for the Gymnasium. He fancied a workout, a bit of the good life at someone else’s expense. Sod the rich bitch; he would take all she had to give. He had worked bloody hard all his life, and although reasonably well off and secure, he was not in this league. It is not fair, he thought, I bet she does not appreciate it like I would.

  The gymnasium was well up to expectations, fitted out with electronically controlled machines to exercise every muscle. Type in key parameters and a few strength tests and it worked out an exercise routine for you. It even had a martial arts robot opponent that you could attack by kicking or punching. It stood its ground and defended itself by blocking and countering. Max had a go at it, and was thoroughly trounced. The blows he received were soft, causing no pain or injury, but expertly placed.

  The pool was small, but a strong current from a water jet enabled him to swim as hard as he liked towards it, indefinitely.

  The strenuous exercise worked off his anger, but he could not get Carla out of his mind. Would noon never come?

  At 11.58am, Carla crossed the garden to the house entrance. Max almost ran to greet her, but then caught himself. He did not want to get emotionally involved with a young girl; there would be no future in it, he told himself, just a lot of heartache.

  Her grin faded as she looked at his face, he did not smile and looked extremely edgy.

  She thought to herself. “I like him, and I am sure
he likes me, what is wrong?”

  Forcing a smile, she said, “I hope you enjoyed yourself while I was out, would you like to go to lunch now?”

  “Yes, very much,” Max replied, “But what is this about buying clothes?”

  “Ah! My little treat, ” she replied. “I would love you to come out with me this evening. I want you to meet the Duke so evening dress will be required. Would you like that?”

  “Yes of course,” said Max, his voice trailing off slightly, as doubt crept into his mind.

  Chapter - Max meets the Duke.

  At 7.00pm, the Duke’s Silver Shadow arrived at the service entrance of Carla’s hideaway. It drove in as the gate opened and on through the opening roller shutter door.

  Max was pacing nervously in the garden when Carla came out and announced, “Time to go!”

  He heard her approach, but did not turn to face her until she spoke. Never having been to high society do’s he felt totally out of his depth.

  Although the black tuxedo fitted perfectly and he looked good in it, he felt embarrassed. The Rolex she bought for him epitomized the absurd class divide he had to face. Nice as it was, €10.00 was more than enough for a damn watch, €3600.00 was obscene!

  He felt like a bought man. Why she insisted on buying it for him was beyond him, but she seemed so happy when he chose it that he could not hurt her feelings, by refusing to accept it.

  As he turned to her, the idea of being paraded in front of her Glitterati friends, like an overdressed country bumpkin, and letting her down, was too much. He had to refuse to go!

  Then he saw her! His mouth was already open to protest at going, it stayed open until he could utter. “My God, you’re truly stunning.”

  Her long, straight blond hair was re-styled in loose curls that framed her perfectly balanced features. The slightly pert nose, cheeks that tended to dimple and mischievously sensual mouth, with small, evenly spaced, flawless white teeth. Her natural, sun kissed, fair skin glowed healthily, giving it a strength, many blonds lack.

  The blue of her eyes was emphasized by subtle blue mascara, and complimented with gold jewellery, mounted with sapphires.

  The low cut, slightly short, simple black dress had been tailored just for her. The thin fabric covered her firm, slim body like a second skin and offered no hiding place for normal bra and panties, yet through skilful dressmaking, skimmed over areas best left to a man’s imagination. Classy, not tarty, less was more.

  His eyes moved down from her face to her breasts, they were sufficient, full and firm, pale blemish free skin, cradled by the contrasting black fabric.

  A small tattoo on her left shoulder, hinted at a less respectable past, although in the scheme of things, this imperfection re-classed her from Barbie Doll to Living perfection.

  Lithe and feminine, proclaimed her slender waist, beautifully rounded hips and flat stomach. Her ass was damn cute too! Although athletic, her long slender legs were not overly curvy or muscular; they stirred a lustful desire in him to explore them as his gaze drifted lower.

  The dainty pair of black, thin-strapped sandals with high heels clasped her small feet. The diamante trims on the sandals twinkling in the garden lights.

  Max’s silence, as he approvingly appraised her was all she needed to know. She flushed and positively beamed with delight when he looked deep into her eyes. Her face was mobile and expressive, her eyes opened, rounded and softened, as he looked at her.

  “You look pretty damn good as well,” she murmured holding the gaze.

  “We had better go,” said Max, forgetting his earlier thoughts, confidence rebuilt to face anything with her by his side. He knew she would not be with him if she did not want to be, and to flatter him was not her way.

  The Rolls was silent, and as they approached, the chauffeur opened the rear doors for them, closing them firmly but reverently in a gentle, reassuring clunk.

  Max had always wanted to ride in a Rolls and had supposed his only chance would be in a hearse, on the way to his own funeral.

  The cream cotton twill upholstery covered sculptured seats, offering soft but supportive comfort. The seat felt like it had been specially made, just for him. Only the gentle acceleration made Max aware the car had actually started. The legendary silence of a Rolls was actually true.

  Through the town they glided; Carla pointed out different places of interest on the way. At the edge of the town, a blaze of lights shone in the distance, high on the mountain.

  “That’s where we are going,” she said, grinning excitedly.

  Their eyes met again, and they held the gaze, neither wanting to break it, whilst looking into the others soul and mind for clues to what the other was thinking.

  When the last street light passed, and darkness fell around them, they looked away, each silent with thought.

  “Looks like we are nearly there,” said Max breaking the silence. The approaching light lit her face, and she was looking ahead with excited anticipation.

  The Duke’s home was enormous, running back into the plateau on three levels above ground, each level narrower and set back from the one below it. The penthouse on top, offices below, and reception areas at ground level.

  Tall pine trees lined the long winding drive, illuminated to great effect by coloured spotlights pointing up into the branches. The courtyard at the front was vast. The granite sets paved the driveway like a village street, around a large circular island that formed the helicopter pad. Wherever possible, backlit shrubbery glowing a rich dark green, illuminated and decorated the area, creating a soft and welcoming feeling, out of this otherwise cold and hard space.

  The two entrances to the underground garages were at the sides of the building, and many of the guest’s Chauffeurs had parked there, respecting the Duke’s desire to avoid clutter on the front.

  The Rolls slid to a halt under the entrance canopy, footmen opened the car doors, and they stepped out.

  The unexpectedly humid, early summer evening, was cool and refreshing, so high up in the mountain. The vast velvet-black night sky, pierced by countless glittering stars and a full moon, felt intoxicating and romantic. More so when a gentle breeze carried the scent of Carla’s freshly washed skin, clean hair and delicate fragrance, towards him.

  The chill of the breeze made her draw closer to him and a thrill passed through his body. He was about to pull her around to face him, and embrace her, and tell her, he had fallen in love with her, when she walked forward. Instantly, he went with her. Perhaps she knew what he had been about to do, and saved him from making a bloody fool of himself.

  They walked together, unthinkingly arm in arm, past the massive open oak entrance doors into the reception hall.

  The lights from the large chandeliers were bright; a band was playing gently in the background, over the murmur of the other guests’ conversations.

  About fifty couples had already arrived, many looking in their direction as they were announced as Mr Max and Miss Carla and immediately presented to the Duke.

  A slim, elderly man stepped towards them. His charisma announced to Max that this man was the Duke.

  Although Max knew he was nearly eighty, he looked about 60. His full head of silver hair crowned a small rectangular face of tight, virtually wrinkle free skin. Max could see no signs of wig or plastic surgery and envied his looks for his age.

  There was no doubt about the Duke’s superior intellect, Max felt the Duke’s dark brown eyes reading his every thought, in fact, they twinkled, and he faintly smiled when the wig and plastic surgery flashed through Max’s mind.

  His warm, open smile and genuine welcoming handshake put Max entirely at ease. “I am so pleased to meet you at last he said, Carla has told me a lot about you and any real friend of hers is most welcome here.”

  The Duke then turned to Carla. He gently grasped her fingers in his hands, raised them slightly as he stepped back at arm’s length to admire her. His eyes wet with the love and admiration he had for this girl. The look of love an
d pride a father has for his daughter at some milestone in her life. She looked back with the same kind of love, at her adoring father. She lived to please him.

  Max was not surprised at the father/daughter love being expressed here, based on what Carla had told him, but the intensity left him wondering if there were more to it.

  The Duke was the perfect host, and the evening was filled with surprises and enlightenment.

  The other guests had arrived much earlier, most were senior executives, and the usual business meeting had taken place upstairs. The people knew each other well and in broad terms, understood much of their respective fields of interest. The secret of The Organisation’s success was their ability to take an advance in knowledge, be it scientific, political or whatever and apply it in seemingly unrelated ways. A recently designed compound had been discussed at an earlier meeting, in conjunction with computer-controlled mould making machinery and software. The software produced suitably distorted mould shapes so that after moulding, the cooled product had a perfect shape. Several new products were being manufactured now, using the compound and this process.

  A German arms manufacturer had produced an extraordinary automatic pistol this way, using the special compound. Every part was shiny like black glass, even the bullet. The bullets matched the rifling of the barrel so perfectly they slid virtually frictionless inside it while maintaining the gas tight fit of an air bearing. The traditional metal cartridge case was unnecessary. The explosive propellant material was a hard, waterproof substance, moulded as a cartridge case, bonded to the bullet and fired electrically. There was no case to eject after firing. The benefit was cheap ammunition, simple, non-jamming mechanism, and consistent performance.

  A presentation case was given to the Duke and contained the pistol, suppressor and 10 clips of ammunition, each holding 30 rounds. Some bullets were high velocity, some were designed to break up like orange segments. Each segment, extremely hard and exceedingly sharp could penetrate most light body armour and produce large surface wounds. The impact on heavy body armour was like being struck by a sledgehammer.