by Randy Dutton
Sven grinned. “Really? There’s no room at any inn for a weary traveler?”
She paused for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Okay, I’ve got a spare bedroom.” With a moment to consider the evening. “But dinner’s on you. I’ll make the reservation.” As she strolled over to the telephone, she said louder over her shoulder, “And it won’t be cheap!”
With that she was out of earshot. Sven was grinning widely.
“Careful, Sven,” Swanson warned. “She’s more volatile than you know.”
“You mean vulnerable?”
“No, I mean dangerous, explosive if you will.”
Sven was slightly taken aback. I’ve got 10 inches and eighty pounds on her, how bad could it be? “Alexis, I’ve never taken advantage of her. Hell, we’ve only met limited times and all that’s been business. I wouldn’t upset a working relationship with her.”
Swanson turned away. “I’ll have Jared bring in your bag.” He paused, and added, “It’s not her I’m worried about.” With that, Swanson walked into the house.
Sven’s eyes widened.
Chapter 24
June 29, 1800 hours
Anna’s Villa, Côte d'Azur, France
Sven and Anna stood at the edge of the lawn. As the Bell helicopter lifted off, Anna’s smile faded, and she said abruptly, “First thing, don’t approach the dogs.”
“Okay…why not?” A worried expression lined his face.
Her eyes narrowed. “They’ll eat you.” She turned and started walking into the house, her smile returning, but not so he could see. Brusquely she called over her shoulder, “Bring your bag, I’ll show you your cell.”
Sven followed, alert for the dogs.
The helicopter reverberation faded away as it passed the house and went over the Mediterranean.
Anna led Sven up the honey-colored travertine staircase that dominated the villa’s foyer. Along the outside curve, the colored glass art that adorned the several niches were brilliantly illuminated with LED lights. She opened a door leading to a spacious bedroom with a balcony overlooking the sea.
“You might like a water view,” she said as she opened up the heavy drapery. “There’s an en suite bath to the left. You’ve got 90 minutes before we walk to dinner. It’s white dinner jacket, black tie. I presume you brought one?”
“Being around Swanson, I’ve gotten into the habit.”
“Good.” She turned to leave the room. “There’s a gym in the basement if you want to use it. The pool temperature’s cool…the way I like it. Suits are optional,” She said nonchalantly then was out the door.
“Walk to dinner?” he raised his voice to be heard in the hallway. “No car?”
She stopped, turned and leaned back into the doorway and grinned, “I like to walk. Wear comfortable shoes.” Then she vanished.
Sven heard a solid door close somewhere down the hallway as he glanced at the objects in the room. Most of the décor was handcrafted, with some impressionist paintings and pastels of local scenes. The bedroom furniture was of an earlier era. To him, furniture was either functional or worthless. By preference, he was an Ikea man. Here, most of the pieces were overly designed and artistic – flowing, with soft lines, and rather ornate. The bed bemused him. The king size mattress was situated in a large ocher-colored wood frame with an exquisitely large headboard, nearly higher than the bed was long. The headboard’s sides were trimmed in a darker wood and curved upward towards the center, much like what, he wondered. Shaking his head, he stared at the bed a moment longer, and then snapped his fingers. It’s shaped like a tombstone. Two bronze branches embedded in the headboard flowing outward from the bottom center towards the upper corners. The whole bed looks like a science project that sucks the brains out of the sleeper at night. The side tables had flowing legs and were topped with marble. There aren’t many rectangular shapes in the room. And yet, it all seems to work together.
Sven heard a door down the hall close, and then silence.
He walked onto the wide balcony, its wrought iron railing was draped in cascading variegated trailing geraniums and fuchsia. He leaned against the balcony and took in the view. The sky was darkening as the sun’s angle lowered. On the water, the sailboats were gone, and only a few yachts now cruised along the shore. Some of the larger ones were decked out with party lights.
One passing megayacht with two locked-down helicopters caught his attention – it was the Spider.
“Well hello there, Alexis,” he uttered softly. He pulled out an available wicker chairs from around a bistro table, sat down, and poured water from a fresh carafe of ice water.
Why not? I could get spoiled in a location like this. Perhaps someday I’ll find such a niche and join the idle rich. I could do it now with the money I’ve made, but, no, I still have too much work to do. Leisure just doesn’t fit in with my mission.
He looked again at the yachts and grinned. Oh how your lifestyle will change when we’re done! He looked at his watch. I’m going to check out this villa.
Stepping out of the bedroom he glanced to his right down the hall.
Hmm, closed doors. Probably best I not go in any of those. She only mentioned the pool and basement gym. He smiled. Why not?
He strolled down the first flight of stairs and scanned for a presence. Seeing and hearing none, he continued down the winding staircase to the basement, a slapping noise becoming more audible as he descended. At the bottom was a slightly ajar double steel door, its cipher lock mounted on the wall. The slapping became louder the closer to the gap he got.
It isn’t a mechanical rhythm.
Cautiously, he pushed the left door wider, not knowing where the Rotts were or whether they even came into the villa. Inside was a very large, brightly lit room.
He entered a dojo – a martial arts training room. He stopped five steps into the mostly floor-matted room to make a better evaluation.
Anna was near the center, kickboxing a man-sized dummy suspended from a ceiling pulley. The well-abused target was swinging forward and back in time with her kicks. She was barefoot, wearing black shorts and a white tee knotted at the waist. Her hair, matted with sweat, was tied back, and she wore a black sweat band. Glistening from the workout, she suddenly stopped and turned towards him. Her sweat-soaked shirt was clinging tightly to her body but, to him, she seemed unconcerned for modesty. Rather, her eyes locked onto his with a severe expression, and then with a raised eyebrow she looked at his shoes.
He glanced down and felt embarrassed. “Sorry.” He immediately removed them and put them under a small bench. She returned to striking the dummy with a rapid pace of coordinated jabs, hooks, and crosses. The dummy spun wildly, but with a pattern she controlled.
With the backdrop of grunting and impacts, Sven looked around the dojo. He slowly wandered the room, closely looking at what each wall had to offer. On the left wall was a large wood plaque with nine lines.
Is this the Code by which she trains? Sven read each one to himself. ‘Be humble and polite; Train to your physical strength; Practice earnestly with creativity; Be calm and swift; Take care of your health; Live a plain life; Do not be too proud or modest; Train with patience; Fight to win.’ He considered part of it. This is a plain life? And she’s far from humble.
In front of the left wall was a weight trainer, some free weights, a stationary bicycle, pull-up bar, and various gymnast equipment.
She’s a bit tall and perhaps too curvaceous for a gymnast, but I’d relish seeing her lithe form gyrating around the uneven parallel bars.
He moved to the back wall with a variety of ancient weapons: antique and modern swords of various lengths, curves, and ornamentation; a human image target with embedded daggers and throwing stars; crossbows and long bows; and metal and wooden implements he’d never seen before.
On the right side were built-in shelves. One contained training aids: padded and bamboo shields, padded mitts, kicking pads, and more. A large flat screen TV was mounted on the wall. Odd place to wat
ch movies...training videos perhaps. On another shelf were numerous books and DVDs on weapons, martial arts, explosives, and…he looked closer, poisons?
He looked at Anna. She was completing a round kick with her right leg against the left side of the dummy’s head. He gulped when estimating the dummy’s head height as his own. He decided it was time to head upstairs and had gotten to the door when the pounding stopped. He turned around.
Anna had picked up her towel and was draping it around her shoulders. “Thirty minutes and we’ll leave.” She walked past him and called out, “Lights off.” The dojo went dark.
He hurried out of the room.
“Door Close,” she added, and the steel door clanged shut behind him.
She took the stairs two at a time.
He followed and wondered, Thirty minutes? Could she really get ready for an elegant dinner after a heavy workout in that amount of time? I’m not going to put her to the test and commit myself to not being a laggard.
He went into his suite and took a quick shower and dressed in his white dinner jacket and black bow tie.
Sven scarcely made the deadline when she exited her bedroom.
Anna was smiling for the first time since Swanson had left. She was dressed sensuously in an emerald green silk sheath, slit up the left side to just above her knee. Around her ankles were laced flat gold metallic sandals. Draped around her neck was a half-meter, gold chain interspersed with ancient Roman coins. Similar, smaller coins dangled from her ears. Her left wrist had a wide, gold and silver cuff bracket, and slung over her shoulder was a small silver-metallic evening bag. Her wavy hair was pulled back from her face with a pair of antique lacquer combs. Minimal makeup heightened her natural beauty.
“You look acceptable.” She inspected Sven in his dinner dress. “Come, we’ll go out the back.”
As they walked down the stairway, Sven saw, for the first time, a dark-skinned man in the house. He was handing large meat bones to the Rotts, which immediately took their prizes out some hidden pet door. Sven tried to determine the man’s nationality.
“Bangladeshi,” she said, off-handedly.
“Excuse me?”
“He’s from Bangladesh. He’s staff. You didn’t really think I live here alone do you, or that I mow the lawn?” she quipped while leading him out the side door and toward the iron gate by the ocean cliff.
“Ah, no, but there are several things I don’t know about you.... Where are we going? I thought we had to walk up your driveway to the road?”
“This is better…there’s a public pathway along the cliff edge just outside this locked gate.” She waved her bracelet over the lock keypad. The mechanism clicked, and the door popped open.
“No key code?”
“Sure…if I choose to use it.”
As they stepped onto the path, Sven saw an incredible panorama of breakers crashing along the cliff’s jumbled rocks below. A thunderous roar released every few seconds. She turned right onto the path and they walked side-by-side, him on the outside nearest the edge, as he knew any gentleman should. The sun had recently set, and the first stars were visible. A three-quarter moon was rising and would make walking the smooth path easier. Off shore, few powerboats were plying the water except those using the moonlight for dinner cruises.
She glanced up at Sven as they walked a healthy pace. “This’ll give us some time to talk,... Are you still the true believer on global warming that you were when I recruited you?”
Sven was taken aback. “Of course!” He paused, choosing his words. “This afternoon, you said you were just in it for the money. Is that true, or was it for Alexis’ benefit?”
“CO2 doesn’t matter to me,” she answered nonplussed. “I’m in it for the money and the lifestyle.”
“But it does matter,” he challenged, but with not as much conviction as he thought he had. Perhaps she’s testing me?
“Why?” she asked, as they passed a pool and cabana belonging the estate next door, a large villa only hinted at by the white lights emanating from behind the large trees. The footprint of the pool area was larger than that of Anna’s whole villa. They continued past to the corner of the peninsula, which turned them northward.
“Well, as CO2 rises, so does the global temperature. When that happens, all sorts of problems happen to us,” he said somewhat defensively. This isn’t going to be a romantic stroll.
“Like what?”
“Disease, for instance. Tropical diseases will rise dramatically as the vectors that carry them moves out of the tropics and into the subtropics and then into the temperate zones…Malaria, cholera, dengue fever, Ebola, you name it.”
“Have they increased much in the past couple decades?”
A border of trees shielded the path from the cliff edge. To the right he saw only trees and grass. He wondered whether it was a park.
“Well no,” he said. “Actually they’ve gone down with modern medicine…but they’re expected to rise.” What a feeble response he felt he had given her.
“Are the ocean’s rising?” she asked, still looking forward.
“Of course! You were in the Maldives. You heard the testimony of the experts, the Maldivian representative, Hassan, I think it was. It was unequivocal. Their country is threatened with annihilation. We have to help them and the 140 million others who will drown when the seas rise this century. This is why we’re doing what we’re doing,” he said testily. This isn’t how I thought the evening would start.
“Calm down. I’m just making conversation,” she looked up at him and smiled guilelessly. “Want to know another reason I like Cap Ferrat?”
“Other than the weather, the scenery, and it being the apex of the French Riviera’s golden triangle of wealth, fame, and society?”
“Other than that.” She smiled cunningly. “It was a base for pirates.”
He eyed her, and grinned. “Perhaps it still is.”
She smiled at that.
They approached a beach in the center of a small horseshoe-shaped cove to the left of the path. “This is Cap Ferrat Beach,” she said casually. The path left the coast and connected to a road called Avenue Jean Mermoz, bordered by two-story buildings. They walked northwest along the sidewalk, passing a few shops on their left and right.
“About how far is this restaurant?” He expected it to be very close by.
“Overall it’s about 4 klicks.”
“So two there and two back? That’s good for the appetite.”
“Four each way.” Her calm expression didn’t change. “And yes, it’s good for the body. It stretches my legs.” Her fast pace indicated this was part of her workout.
They continued walking along the road and soon were passing a marina on their right. “That’s Cap Ferrat Marina. That’s where the regatta sailboats originated.” There were still a few deck hands doing some maintenance work on their rigging. “And we’re coming into downtown Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, with the coast on our right.”
“Do you walk this every day?”
“Of course not...I avoid the rain...sometimes.” She looked at him. “Usually I change up my route and destination. You’re treating me, so tonight’s meal at Le Panorama is a little farther than my usual haunts. But it’s top notch, a Michelin 5-star, with the price to boot.” She smiled wider. “So, you worry about the polar bears?”
“The polar bears? The ones drowning in the Arctic? Of course I do. Don’t you?”
“Why?”
“They’re the canary in the coal mine, what we call an indicator species. As the ice melts, they have to swim farther to find food, and they’ll drown or starve to death.”
“How many were there 30 years ago?” They came to a pathway that connected to the road. “We’re going to take the scenic route.” She stepped onto the path. “This is the Promenade Maurice Rouvier Cap Ferrat.”
“Polar bears? I don’t know, about 10,000, but they are an endangered species.”
“Threatened, not endangered,” she corrected him.
“And thirty years later, there’s almost three times as many.”
“I don’t see that’s relevant.” His frustration was rising. “They’re all at risk.”
“How about the weather. Will it change?”
“You know it will, and it’s already started.”
“How?”
“More destructive hurricanes, more droughts, more floods, more of every weather phenomenon that hurts humans.
“Are you sure there are more, and it’s not just better news coverage and measurement instruments?”
Why is she quizzing me? he wondered, then growled, “Well, that’s what I’ve read.”
“Sven, did growing up as an only child to a successful Minneapolis heart surgeon cause you to lose perspective?”
“Perspective on what?”
“Humanity’s struggle to survive. You have near perfect recall. That made academics very easy for you. You got most any woman you sought, even during your high school years.”
“How would you know?!”
“Research…and intuition. At four inches over six foot, you’ve got the archetypical Scandinavian athletic build and longish blonde hair that so many women love and men resent. You’ve got an intense personality, and you’re very self-indulgent.”
“And you’re not intense and self-indulgent?” he asked testily.
“Oh, but I am. Even more than you.” She smiled. “But I sense your indulgence has spread into your professional attitude.”
“Where are you going with this?!” He stopped walking. With arms crossed, he stared at her.
She turned to face him. “Are you upset Alexis cancelled the phytoplankton release?”
“Hell, yes! That product would have had the biggest impact on capturing CO2. We used gene duplexing to make it robust, prolific, and far more effective than natural plankton. And we designed it so less carbon would get recycled into the atmosphere.”
“But if it gets loose, how does Alexis make money on it?”
“Hang the money!” he responded angrily. “How much more does he need? When you hired me, you wanted somebody who met your design criteria. Well, I exceeded it! We can save the world by eliminating the CO2. Isn’t that what he wanted?”