Counterpoint (4 page)

“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.