The Milieu Principle

by Malcolm Franks

Rosa dabbed tenderly at the shoulder wound and Matt winced in discomfort.

  “Ouch!” he yelped as she pressed a touch too firm for his liking. He withdrew his shoulder from her reach and banged his head against the under frame of the top bunk.

  “Stay still you big girl’s blouse,” she chided, grinning as he rubbed the back of his head with his good hand. He returned his shoulder to her care, and she continued the task of lightly applying the medication.

  The cabin was tiny, little of the natural daylight being able to force its way into the room through the small porthole shaped window above the top bunk. The low wattage light bulb added little illumination. A hand basin was perched on the opposite wall, barely eight feet from where they sat on the bottom bunk. The toilet-cum-shower room was too small to fully extend arms to each side. Nevertheless they were on the move, providing both with a degree of security within this small prison.

  Matt’s eyes rested upon the woman nursing him back to health. Her now-dark hair did not seem at all out of place on her pretty frame, surrounding her small face with half moon shaped tresses. Her blue eyes shone ever more brightly, sparkling underneath the black fringe that now covered her forehead.

  The dabbing had finished when she placed a slim index finger to his wound. She began to circle it gently, feeling the contours of his damaged skin and studying the colours of the bruising to his shoulder. It seemed a fascination to her.

  “I’ve never been shot before,” said Rosa’s concentrated face. “How does it feel?” she asked.

  “Painful,” he replied. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  A throaty laugh rang out from her mouth, the same throaty laugh she had revealed when they had first met. His memory returned to Toronto, to the time the sunlight had shone down upon her blonde head at the taxi stand revealing her exquisite features and infectious smile. So much had happened since.

  Matt wasn’t sure what to make of Rosa. He knew now he could trust this woman, which was a good thing, but he also understood he knew little else about this trained assassin. Matt thought he knew Grace, believing her to be a certain kind of person. History had shown him to be so abjectly wrong.

  “Is Rosa Cain your real name?” he asked, deciding to take the bull by the horns.

  They had been travelling for over a week and he had yet to ask her any direct questions about herself.

  “Rosamund Elizabeth Cain,” she replied. “I am an only child with no surviving parents, born on the twentieth day of June nineteen hundred and eighty.”

  “How did you get into a job like this when there are so many other, different things you could have done?”

  Rosa chose not to answer, preferring instead to watch her finger continue its meticulous circular journey around his wound, as if locked in place like a needle stuck on a long playing record.

  “I’m sorry, Matt … you had to find out about Hayes, I mean Grace, the way you did,” she whispered.

  Her contrition took him by surprise.

  “You don’t need to apologise to me,” he said. “I wouldn’t be alive today if you hadn’t been watching over me. I owe you my life.”

  Her piercing blue gaze rose up to search out his eyes, and a narrow smile pursed her luscious lips. Matt couldn’t be sure but thought he could sense a degree of loneliness in her expression, as though she were in need of a comforting touch. It was so unlike her.

  Matt instinctively raised his good hand and cupped it round her slender jaw, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Her eyelids closed and she tipped her head sideways into his open palm, to allow his thumb to move deftly across and caress her lips. He wondered if she was thinking back to Toronto, to the warm evening air, the view of the great lake Ontario and that dance in the open under the dark night sky. Perhaps it had meant something after all, and her sub-conscious wanted to escape back to that night.

  Her eyes flickered open as his light caresses continued around her mouth. He bowed his head to reach for her lips with his own kiss. Rosa’s hand rose to his arm and gently lifted it away. Then she stood and carried the small bowl of dirty water to the hand basin and started to empty the contents down the sink.

  “That’s not going to happen,” she said quietly, confusing his mind.

  Neither spoke for some time.

  “The night in Toronto ...” he eventually began.

  She turned from the basin and busied herself with picking up and clearing away the rest of the medication.

  “Work,” she answered. “I’m not employed now.”

  She didn’t mean it as a put down. It felt like one.

  “Now I feel foolish,” he said, not expecting her to respond.

  “You shouldn’t,” Rosa replied. “It really wouldn’t have been too much of a chore for me,” not looking at Matt as she spoke.

  The admission did little to prop up Matt’s diminishing ego. Not one insult but two, in quick succession.

  “Besides,” she continued. “I’m already spoken for.”

  Not ideal but a little better, he thought.

  Her loyalty to this unknown person was a further surprise to him. Whilst it did not ease his sense of belittlement he warmed to her unexpected, old-fashioned virtuousness.

  “You miss him, her perhaps,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

  A smile returned to Rosa’s face, an affectionate grin.

  “Him,” she sighed. “Yes, I do. And I worry. I’ve tried to cover my tracks, but you can never be sure. When I looked into your eyes, in Skagway, it brought it all home.”

  He shook his head at the memory.

  “How are you feeling now, about Grace?” she asked.

  Now it was Matt’s turn to sigh.

  “I still can’t quite believe it. Grace seemed so real, as if she had genuine feelings for me.”

  “Try not to be too hard on yourself, Matt. She was one of Canada’s finest. Though I can’t say I cared for her much.”

  “I thought she loved me.”

  “Of course she did, that’s why she tried to kill you.”

  “I don’t understand how she could do it.”

  Rosa chose not to respond, knowing only too well Hayes was a crack markswoman, more than capable of only needing a single shot. It was a constant source of mystery to Rosa how Matt had managed to survive that night.

  “I keep getting it wrong, with women,” he said. “Perhaps I should seriously consider turning.”

  Now the throaty laugh returned to full volume. Rosa returned her gaze and affectionate smile to his forlorn expression.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she smiled. “Jenna’s a lovely girl. I liked her very much.”

  “Swap tales, did you?” he said. “God, I even managed to make a pig’s ear out of that. Doubt Jenna would want to see me again either.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. I suspect you’re no longer her type, now you’ve discovered your dark side.”

  “Type!” he exclaimed. “What sort of language is that?”

  Rosa began to laugh.

  “You must have known Tillman would do the research while you were keeping low in Kielder. Why do you think it was me they sent on the plane, after the take off was delayed.”

  Matt was openly shocked.

  “Everyone said the same, all your colleagues and business associates. I’m only interested in blondes with a figure to die for. It’s what you’re famous for. Tillman thought you were a prize prick. He couldn’t believe how you somehow kept managing to disappear out of sight.”

  “Did he now?” said Matt sarcastically. “How did they know I was catching a plane anyway? You were all supposed to be chasing the bloody Mercedes.”

  “CCTV, simply shaving a beard off is hardly much of a disguise. They spotted you as soon as you entered the airport. Bridges was identified in your car early. The authorities had wanted to take him out for some time. It was too good an opportunity to miss and classic Tillman; oops, wrong guy. You didn’t have to leave your mobile on in the car though. We were already track
ing it from the inbuilt signal on the satellite.”

  Matt felt himself getting angry.

  “So why didn’t they have me arrested at the airport, there and then? Why carry on with this madness?”

  “Because Tillman thought you might be part of a wider network. That’s why they let you get out of Kielder. So you could be followed. See where, and with whom, you ended up.”

  “So you tailed me,” he said sharply.

  Matt went quiet, mulling over Rosa’s words and feeling his temper rise at each passing second.

  “They never thought to consider you might have caught the early Greyhound. I suppose calling it in two hours later than I should have done might have helped. They took weeks to work out what had really happened.”

  Now Matt was completely confused. He sat silently for some time, trying to make sense of what she had said. Rosa waited for him to speak again.

  “Why? Why did you wait two hours? Surely that would put you in the frame? Why did you help me, Rosa?” he asked, disbelievingly.

  At first he didn’t think she was going to answer. She stared blankly at Matt with a glazed look. Then she shrugged her shoulders.

  “I’m not sure really. An accumulation of things I guess,” she said. “Evans led the raid on your apartment and found your girl there ...”

  “Amy” he interjected.

  “Yes,” she replied slowly. “It didn’t bother him, never gave it a second thought. It wasn’t meant to happen. She reached for the phone and tried to dial your mobile, and Evans fired. Then, I met you in Toronto. I’d been given this profile of you. According to Tillman you were nothing more than a flash and shallow womaniser with a big car, an arrogant prick. But any other man would have jumped me once I had you interested on the dance floor. Instead you backed away, which was really kind of sweet. You were nothing like what I expected, nothing like your profile at all.”

  Oh yes I was, he thought, all those things and more.

  “We’re told in training,” she continued. “It’s when people are placed under extreme duress their real personality shows through. And yours was ... absolutely fine. You have a good heart, Matt, a very good heart. You remind me of someone else.”

  He began to feel a different emotion towards Rosa, a close bond. A level of friendship he had felt once before, with Jack; a sort of kinship.

  “I’ve done so many bad things,” she said wistfully. “When you showed me what was on the memory stick I realised how bad they were, unforgivable.”

  He reflected for a moment before responding. “I forgive you, Rosa Cain,” and she smiled wistfully again.

  Matt decided it was time to change the subject, focus on the future and try and lift Rosa from her melancholy.

  “How did you manage to get us on this ship?” he asked.

  “I told you. I know someone who might help. His family owns a lot of cargo ships,” she answered, now busying herself with routinely tidying the cabin.

  “This is going to take us an age to get back to Europe,” he sighed.

  “That’s good,” Rosa insisted. “It will allow plenty of time for you to heal and for me to give you some much needed training.”

  “Training?” he said.

  “To help you survive. I might not always be around, and what would you do then?”

  She was right. If his plan was going to have any chance of succeeding he needed to be capable of far more than mere deception. Neets Bay had shown him that. They hadn’t talked about his brutal slaying of Jack’s assassin, the dark side she had referred to earlier. To Rosa this was a part of the world she already inhabited, one he would also now have to become familiar with.

  Strangely, he felt no remorse over the incident. His initial feelings of guilt over the deaths of Jack and Holly had passed quicker than expected, replaced by a burning desire to wreak revenge on those responsible. The events of those fateful days served to heighten this determination, to repay in spades those responsible for taking the human treasures from his life. The thirst for revenge grew stronger within him each passing day, dominating his every waking thought and every sleepless night.

  He was different now.

  Rosa knew it, too.

  Any loitering semblance of Michael Daniels had been well and truly extinguished; to be replaced by a harder, meaner individual called Matt Durham.

  The two bare footed figures circled cautiously, staring intently at the other, watching for the slightest offensive manoeuvre. Rosa made the first feint, dipping her right shoulder as if to change the direction of her movement before rebalancing the weight on to her left leg. Swiftly her right foot shot towards her male opponent, aiming for the chest. He expertly evaded the riposte by swaying to his left.

  Barely a further second had passed before she was pinned to the floor, her left leg swept away by his right foot. She crashed onto her back and his body rushed to trap her to the gym mat.

  “Submit,” he roared triumphantly, sweat dripping from his brow with the intense physical effort and concentration he had had to employ.

  Rosa struggled to shift his frame from across her shoulders, breathing heavily with the exertion.

  “That hurts,” she managed to gasp out.

  He responded by gently easing the pressure on her body. Sensing her chance, her freed right hand thumped into his groin. The blow caused him to release his grip and allow Rosa to regain the initiative, to sit atop her opponent’s shoulders with her fingers poised to pierce his eyes.

  “How many times have I told you,” she said with a large grin. “Never give an enemy a chance, man or woman, no matter what they say or do. They won‘t give you one.”

  Matt exhaled deeply, more in irritation than anything else. He was sweating profusely now, soaking his t-shirt and loose fitting sweat pants and gluing them to his skin. Rosa was breathing heavily too and there were glimpses of perspiration running down the sides of her arms.

  He looked up at the high ceiling above Rosa’s head, to the dark grey steel beams stretching across the roof of the ship’s gym. A vast space, it had provided plenty of scope for their activities. The cargo ship, wending its way across the globe, was heading for Valencia, in northern Spain. The place had almost become a second home to them.

  It had been another two hour workout within the gym. He had gradually acquired the skills of hand-to-hand combat, helping his body develop agility and greater litheness.

  Rosa had instigated the training regime. From mapping to spatial awareness, from moving with extreme stealth to the art of killing silently; and from weapon handling to knife fighting and First Aid. She had taught him much.

  He had proved an outstanding student too. The intensity with which he had thrown himself into learning these new skills had surprised even his tutor. Matt was desperate to learn, to excel at anything and everything she could teach him.

  All of this stemmed from his burning desire to succeed in his chosen mission; that of sating revenge on his enemies. Yet for all his new ruthlessness, she sensed a hesitation still in him when it came to hurting a woman. Perhaps it was just her, she thought, although he’d come close on several occasions to really hurting her.

  Rosa had come to enjoy the constant physical contact, bringing them closer together as the voyage unfolded. The man she had first encountered in Toronto was still there but had developed a harder demeanour, adding to his physical attraction. Matt’s shoulder had healed well, though still gave him the odd twinge of pain now and again.

  “How’s your shoulder?” asked Rosa, sat astride him.

  “Good,” he replied, “getting better every day. I wish I could say the same about my combat skills.” he moaned.

  She giggled at him, playfully.

  With her dark hair tied back, the blue eyes sparkling with life and her shapely figure wrapped tightly in black bottomed leotards and a cross tied skimpy white top, she looked every part a mischievous imp teasing a clumsy frame.

  “You’re doing fine, certainly a match for most people. By the tim
e we get to Valencia you’ll be an absolute champion, I promise. Never forget though, your biggest asset and your most dangerous weakness is in there,” she said, pointing to his brain. “Only champions in these crafts learn to use their head properly.”

  He knew she meant every word and nodded to acknowledge her wry grin.

  The uncontrollable urge was quick, sudden and totally unexpected. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Rosa bent forward and kissed him passionately on the lips.

  “What was that for?” he gasped in surprise.

  “Encouragement,” she replied impishly.

  He gazed upon her mischievous expression, her twinkling eyes.

  “So what do I get when I beat you?”

  “No more encouragement,” she said quickly. “If ever you should beat me, then you won’t need any further incentive.”

  “Jesus Christ! Whatever happened to the concept of rewarding success?”

  She gave out a throaty laugh and began to urgently tickle his ribs, causing him to double up with laughter. The playful intimacy lasted no more than a few seconds and it set Matt thinking, though only for a short while.

  “Okay, so what’s next to do?”

  “Biology,” she replied.

  “Sounds interesting,” he said.

  “Don’t get too excited, my boy. Somehow, I have a feeling you’re not going to be very good at this exercise.”

  He looked at her, puzzled. This surely wasn’t another of Rosa’s unthinking put downs.

  A slight smirk crossed her lips as she looked upon him, his newly grown hair matted with sweat. Beads of salty liquid dribbled from his brow and ran down the side of his face, past his bright and hopeful eyes.

  Rosa crossed her arms and reached for the rim of the white top circling her midriff. In a single, effortless movement she lifted the garment from the top of her body.

  Matt looked into her eyes. Rosa’s amused grin dared him to submit and lower his gaze. His ongoing resistance served to further her amusement at the inner struggle evident on his face. Her smile widened, luring him on. Matt could feel his resolve weakening and wondered why she was teasing him this way. Rosa raised her right hand and pulled at the elastic band behind her head. She shook her mane to release the darkened hair, allowing it to fall down around her bare shoulders.

  “Take off your top and follow me,” she said, rising from atop him.

  “Rosa, the door,” he said, unsure what to expect next.

  “It’s already locked, now follow me.”

  Obediently he pursued her towards the shower chamber, his mind alive with any number of possibilities. Rosa stopped at the large mirror by the entrance to the lockers, opened one, and produced two black marker pens.

  “Draw my liver,” she said, offering him a pen.

  “What?”

  “Take the pen and draw exactly where you think the liver is located in my body.”

  He paused for a moment and tried to picture in his mind what he had been taught at school, biology being one of those lessons he never paid much attention to. He began to mark Rosa’s torso. She started to smile as he drew, alerting him to his error, and was therefore all the more determined to get everything else right. He concentrated hard for the remainder of the lesson; heart, lungs, kidneys etc.

  “Right,” she said. “My turn,” and then proceeded to draw the same diagrams on Matt’s torso.

  Standing side by side, looking at their reflections in the mirror, Rosa began to giggle.

  “I did say you weren’t likely to be very good at this,” she remarked impishly.

  “Touché,” he responded with disappointment, barely able to conceal his disgust at getting it so wrong. He kept looking at her naked torso and then comparing it to his own, frequently shaking his head in the process. After the humour, Rosa’s expression turned serious.

  “In the field, decisions are instant and there is no room for error. So you have to have knowledge in order to make the right call. When one of the team is wounded you have two choices, repair and rescue, or a gun with a single bullet.”

  He nodded, hanging on to her every word.

  “When we reach Europe, we will be under constant threat and the odds are at least one of us will get hurt. You have to be able to make the right call.”

  He nodded again.

  “What next?” he asked.

  “Shower, of course,” she said, and left him standing there in deep concentration.

  Rosa straightened the belt on her trousers and walked to where Matt stood patiently, having finished showering some minutes earlier.

  “Take off your top,” he demanded.

  She frowned at first then spotted the marker pen in his hand.

  “You can always take another shower. I don’t want to make another mistake.”

  After he’d finished, Rosa looked into the mirror.

  “Excellent,” she said. “You really are a quick learner.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Welcome to the Wolfgangsee