'But what do we do with it?' Klaus asked. 'Put an ad in the paper - "Love for Sale"?'
Helmut smiled. 'Not exactly.' He reached into a briefcase, pulled out four pale blue folders and passed them round. 'This is an outline of the project.'
Max opened his copy of the document he had helped to prepare. The project name, written on the cover in bold black type, was his choice, but he didn't recognize some of the later sections.
'From now on we only refer to the project by its name,' Helmut said.
'Ilium?' queried Klaus.
'It's the original Greek name for Troy,' Max said, 'as in Helen, the most desired woman in the classical world. When Paris of Troy stole her from her husband, the Greeks waged the Trojan war to win her back. The passion she aroused epitomizes the potential power of this drug.'
Helmut continued: 'We involve no Kappel Privatbank employees in the details of Ilium, only we four. No one else must know about the drug, especially the clients to whom we sell its benefits.'
Max listened as his father outlined the plan they had developed on the night he returned from France. The four major-clients who had threatened to leave the bank - Corbasson, Lysenko, Hudsucker and Nadolny - would be the first guinea pigs. They would unwittingly receive the permanent NiL #072 drug, primed with the facial imprints of four unsuspecting women, and would then be invited to a discreet weekend retreat to meet the objects of their obsessive desire. The women would be injected secretly with the temporary NiL #069 drug, imprinted with the faces of their matching suitors, and for two days their obsessive passions would be sated. Finally, on the eve of departure, when the temporary drug was fading from the women's systems, each permanently affected client would be informed that an auction was in play and to secure his partner's lifelong love he must match a particular bid. In fact he would have no rivals and would be bidding against himself.
Max and his father had agreed on a small, controlled low-profile trial. But as Helmut described the scheme, Max realized that his father had embellished it.
'To attract our target clients, we must hold a high-profile event that symbolizes the drug's potency,' Helmut said. 'An event that pre-selects the women we wish to partner with our targets. It must be held in a venue that is both glamorous and self-contained, ensuring that everyone accepts their invitation and we maintain control of the environment.'
'Why does it have to be so high-profile?' Max said. 'I thought the idea was to keep this quiet. Extract payment discreetly from the first four clients, learn from any mistakes, then move on to others.'
Klaus was looking appalled. 'I agree with Max. Surely we need to use stealth with this, not draw attention to ourselves.'
Helmut raised his hands. 'Stealth with the drug, yes, but not the stage upon which we sell it. Our targets are busy, self-important men. We have to lure them to the auction, and once there we have to convince them that we alone have the power to grant them the love they crave. We must show our hand a little. Otherwise why should they believe us? Or pay us?'
'But it was supposed to be a trial.'
'Where's your courage, Max?' Joachim said suddenly.
Max turned to his effete brother. He took in the bright bow-tie and the light in his eyes. Joachim had already discussed this with their father, he thought, perhaps even encouraged the more flamboyant developments. 'This isn't about courage.'
'No, it's about common sense,' Klaus agreed.
'Relax, Klaus,' Helmut said. 'Sometimes you have to risk a little to gain a lot.'
'What is the high-profile event that will symbolize the drug's potency?'
Helmut smiled. 'A wedding,' he said. 'A Kappel wedding.'
Max understood. He remembered the suggestion his father had made while they were discussing their plans for the NiL drug.
Klaus was bemused. 'Max is finally marrying Delphine Chevalier? How high-profile is that going to be?'
Helmut groaned. 'No, Klaus, Max isn't marrying Delphine Chevalier.' He took a copy of Vogue out of his briefcase, opened it at the page marked with a yellow Post-it and placed it on the table.
Max watched Klaus study the magazine. He looked up at his brother in evident incredulity. 'Her, Helmut?'
'Now do you understand?'
*
PART 2
ILIUM
1 OCTOBER
ISABELLA BACCISTOODOUTSIDE THE CHILDREN S WARD AT MILAN University Hospital and said goodbye to Sofia. She was happy the child was going home and that she had helped her parents come to terms with her prosopagnosia, although she wished she could have done more.
'Sofia, thank the doctor for all her help.'
Sofia shyly gave Isabella a folded card. On the front she had drawn a woman in a white doctor's coat. Isabella opened it and read: 'I won't forget you, Dr Isabella. Thank you. Love Sofia.'
She hugged the little girl. 'And I won't forget you, Sofia.'
Sofia's father shook Isabella's hand. 'Thank you so much, Dr Bacci.' He pointed to the Amigo extract in the refrigerated cabinet. 'When you need volunteers for trials, please call me. I want to help you find a cure, and I'd like to understand Sofia's condition better.'
"Thanks. When I get clearance from the ethical committee I'll do that'
As they walked through the security doors Sofia's father stopped again and tapped the DNA palm pad. 'And don't forget what I told you. If the hospital wants to upgrade its security system I can do a deal on the InterFace 3500.'
'I won't forget.' She watched them walk hand in hand with their daughter down the long hospital corridor to the outside world. She Stood still for a few moments after they had gone, looking at Sofia's card. Finally, she slipped it into her breast pocket and checked her watch.
Tonight she had front-row seats to watch Phoebe on the catwalk at one of the premier shows of Milan's autumn fashion week. Afterwards she was joining her and some other friends for dinner, including Kathryn Walker and Gisele Steele, the A-list movie star who had become a firm friend of Phoebe's after they had worked together on a charity project. The evening promised to be glamorous and trivial, a perfect antidote to her daily work.
As she walked through Accident and Emergency, an oncologist who had flirted with her since she arrived at the hospital smiled at her, but after Leo and Max she wanted a break from men. For the time being she would concentrate on her work. After Antibes, the only thing she was sure about was that she was definitely over Leo. But she was at a loss as to how Max could have been so passionate at one moment and so detached the next. That she had felt the same didn't make it any easier to understand.
She was annoyed with herself for thinking about Max. Phoebe had seen him at Odin's offices last week - apparently the designer was one of his clients. Until Phoebe had mentioned this she had almost managed to put him out of her mind.
In the locker room she collected her personal items. She had just enough time to go home and change. A nurse popped her head round the door. 'Dr Bacci, a man rang for you. He said it was personal.' She handed Isabella a folded piece of paper.
Max?
Isabella's heart pounded when she read the last line of the note. 'Please call him back on his cellphone.' Cellphone was underlined twice. Then she opened the paper. Her heart sank. 'Leo called.'
She screwed up the note and threw it into the bin.
ISABELLACHANGED INTO A SIMPLE MIDNIGHT-BLUE NICOLE FARHI dress, the one piece of genuine designer clothing she owned, and arrived at the imposing gates of the Palazzo Farnese just before the Odin show was due to start.
The Norwegian designer's show was one of the hottest tickets in Milan fashion week. The press delighted in portraying him as a mad, extravagant genius and from what his favourite Valkyrie, Phoebe, had told Isabella, they weren't wrong. His latest folly had been to buy an entire fjord near the Arctic Circle in his native Norway, complete with an island, upon which he had built a fairy-tale crystal palace called Valhalla.
Through the iron gates she could see that a crowd had already gathered in the courtyar
d, eating canapes and drinking champagne. As she scoured the faces for anyone she recognized she experienced a rush of panic. Many looked familiar, but only because they were famous. She felt like a child on her first day at a new school.
She handed her invitation to a hard-faced, stick-thin PR woman, who looked her up and down. 'Who are you? Which magazine are you with? Are you with the sponsors?'
'I'm just a friend,' Isabella said.
'A friend?' the woman repeated slowly, as though struggling to understand the concept.
'I wouldn't let her in if I was you,' said a soft American voice.
'Unlike you and me, she's just a doctor who saves lives.' It was Kathryn and she was with Gisele. They took her hands and pulled her to join them. Isabellatook pleasure in the now fawning, flustered expression on the PR woman's face.
Gisele Steele was blessed with a figure that looked voluptuous on screen but model-thin in real life. She had beautiful coffee-coloured skin, large dark eyes and a short bob. 'Nice to meet you, Isabella. I'm Gisele. Sorry I missed out on Antibes -- I heard you all had a blast.' Isabella liked her smile and that, despite her fame, she had introduced herself.
There was just time for a glass of champagne before they were herded into the great hall of the palazzo where the show was to take place. They had front-row seats and Isabella tried not to stare at Madonna and Jennifer Lopez.
'Look!' Kathryn whispered in her ear, and pointed.
She glanced at the far end of the front row and saw two men taking their seats. She recognized the taller, younger man instantly and her heart somersaulted. What was Max Kappel doing here? Unconsciously she flicked back her hair and smoothed her dress. He looked even more handsome than she remembered, and she felt both relief and disappointment when he didn't meet her eyes. The lights dimmed, Wagner's 'Flight of the Valkyrie' faded in, and a murmur of anticipation rose from the audience.
When Phoebe appeared Isabella had to quell the impulse to cheer. Her friend wore a gilt band around her forehead and her gold-blonde hair hung loose to her shoulders. Exquisite frosted mascara, eyeliner and blood-red lipstick transformed her beautiful face into that of a warrior queen. A fur cape was draped round her shoulders, fastened with a huge gold clasp, over a tight bodice of gold fabric that resembled a breastplate and accentuated every curve. A short, reindeer-fur skirt showed off her long legs, and on her feet she wore open gilt sandals, with tendril-like straps that snaked up her calves and heels that added at least three inches to her six-foot frame.
Isabella had once read that Phoebe was not only the most beautiful of models but also the most graceful, which was why she was so highly prized by designers. When she passed Isabella she kept her eyes straight ahead. At the end of the catwalk she performed two complete turns, then walked back.
On her return, Phoebe moved her head slowly from side to side. She looked imperiousand untouchable. Asshe passed Isabella again somediing, or someone, in the audience made her lose her legendary poise. like a startled thoroughbred, she stumbled and fell to her knees. There was a collective gasp, then spontaneous applause as she rose to her feet and regained her composure. For a moment, though, Isabella saw an expression of shock on her friend's face. When she followed Phoebe's gaze, she saw that her eyes were on Max Kappel. But as she continued along the catwalk, Isabella realized her friend wasn't looking at Max but at the older man beside him. From his colouring and appearance, he could only be Max's father.
TWO HOURS LATER
WHATTHE HELL WAS GOING ON? THE QUESTION LOOPED IN Isabella's mind as she was ushered to her seat in the small, exclusive Aimo e Nadia restaurant on Via Montecuccoli.
After the show, Isabella, Gisele and Kathryn had gone backstage but Phoebe had been surrounded by admirers. The show had been a great success and, after heaping profuse praise on his brave muse for soldiering on even though she had sprained her ankle in the fall, Odin had invited his circle to his favourite Milanese restaurant to celebrate.
When Odin directed everyone to the table, he sat Phoebe between himself and Max Kappel's fadier. Helmut Kappel's unblinking eyes were of the palest blue and his facial expression as impassive as granite. For some unfathomable reason the levelheaded Phoebe, who had fended off advances from the most desirable suitors in the world, was flirting with him - a man old enough to be her father. As if that wasn't bad enough, Isabella had been separated from Gisele and Kathryn and stranded at the far end of the table, opposite Max.
She took a long sip of wine - getting drunk seemed like a good idea. 'Max, what a surprise - I wouldn't have thought this was your scene.'
He smiled. 'Odin's our client.' He glanced at his father, who was laughing with Phoebe and Odin. 'We've supported him since he was a struggling unknown, so it's good to share in his success.' At that moment Phoebe leaned across and whispered something in Helmut Kappel's ear. The act was as intimate as a kiss and Isabella had to look away. Why was Phoebe behaving like diis? She was constantly aware of being in the public gaze and was famously discreet with her boyfriends. Isabella caught Kathryn's eye. She, too, had noticed Phoebe's behaviour.
'How old is your father?' she asked Max.
'Old enough.'
'In Antibes you said he was married.'
He nodded. 'He was. Three times. His divorce from number three is due to come through any day now.' He looked over her shoulder to the far corner of the restaurant. 'A man over there keeps looking at us. He's trying to be discreet, but the woman he's with has noticed and now she's looking at us too. At first I thought they were celebrity-spotting, but I think they're checking you out.'
'Me?' She glanced round and saw Leo with Giovanna. She almost choked on her wine. Could the evening get any worse? She stood up and wiped the wine off her dress.
Max stood. 'You okay? Can I get you anything?'
'No, thanks,' she said, trying not to look as flustered as she felt. 'Excuse me.'
She had to stop herself running to the Ladies', where she stood by the basin and dabbed at her dress with cold water, then stood by the hand-dryer until the dark stain faded. She wanted to go home, but this was Phoebe's evening. She braced herself, opened the door and stepped out.
Leo stood in front of her. She had always thought him hand-some, but not tonight. Where his face had once seemed sensitive it now looked weak. His aura appeared diminished. She couldn't help comparing his boyishness unfavourably with Max's brooding charisma.
'Did you get my message?' he said. He glanced furtively over his shoulder. 'I've missed you - I should never have let you go.'
'You didn't let me go, Leo. You dumped me.'
'Imade a mistake.'
A few weeks ago Isabella would have given anything to hear Leo say those words, but now they angered her. She looked across the restaurant and saw Giovanna rise from their table. 'Does she know she's a mistake?'
'It's her birthday. That's why we're here. She wanted to go to the best restaurant in Milan. I can't tell her yet. I don't want to hurt her.'
'You didn't have a problem hurting me, Leo, but I was only the fiancee who'd travelled half-way across the world to marry you.'
He gestured towards Odin's table and Max. 'Is he your new . . . ?'
Isabella almost laughed. 'For Christ's sake, Leo, leave me alone.' She tried to walk past him, but now Giovanna was in her path. She had been drinking.
'Leave him alone, you bitch,' Giovanna hissed. 'Why can't you accept that Leo doesn't want you any more?'
Isabella groaned. 'Don't do this, Giovanna. If you want to shout at someone, shout at him. He's the one doing the harassing.'
Giovanna's eyes went to Leo, then back to her, and Isabella almost felt sorry for her. Then Giovanna raised a hand -- but a larger one gripped her wrist.
'Is everything okay, Isabella?' Max said.
'Fine,' she said, through gritted teeth.
Max offered Leo Giovanna's hand. 'I think you should take her home.'
Leo glared at him but something in Max's tone made him lead Giovanna away.
When Isabella was back in her seat, Kathryn leaned across the table to her. 'How many more of your exes are you planning on seeing tonight?'
Isabella rolled her eyes. 'Two's enough.'
'You okay?'
Isabella raised her glass. 'I'll survive. But if Billy Bohannon from school turns up I'm outta here.'
By the time Max returned to his seat the wine had loosened her tongue. Her pride told her to say nothing, but another part of her knew that if she didn't resolve this now it would haunt her. 'What happened between us in Antibes, Max?'
Max blinked. Then he sat forward, palms together, fingers forming a steeple: he had become the banker about to tell a client why he couldn't advance them a loan. 'I'm not sure.' He gave a controlled smile. 'All I know is that it was a wonderful moment of madness.'
True (2004) Page 12
