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.

Carla just smiled back at him and walked into the room. “You weren’t bad, but you need a lot of practice if you want to follow me,” she teased. “By the way, thanks for calling the Police, I was in deep trouble with those men; they were forcing me to transfer my money to their boss’s offshore account.”

“I want to know what is going on,” Max demanded, “You promised you would tell me.”

“Yes, I did, but we must leave at once,” she said, grabbing her backpack and the briefcase. She was out the door before Max could question her further. A silver Honda Prelude pulled up outside the house, just as they stepped out onto the pavement. Max stepped back into the entrance again, thinking more trouble was on its way.

“Don’t worry soothed Carla, this is my car, the man is only delivering it. The car is a bit old, but it will do the job.”

The man got out; she thanked him and put the luggage on the back seat. They both got in, and she drove off.

Max pestered her for answers to his questions, but she refused to explain. Her only comment was that he would be dead by now or wish he was, but for her help and that knowing more would not be good for him. She would take him to a safe place until his van was repaired and returned to him, and then he should leave Italy. Resigned to the following silence, Max went to sleep.

Chapter - Carla’s Hideaway.

Apart from four stops for fuel, food and the toilet, Carla drove for twelve hours until they reached a small mountainside town called Rubiana. With towering mountains to the north, a full moon lit the valley with a pale light, emphasizing the size of them. It was 11.00pm, and only a few people were visible on the narrow town streets.

Carla drove up to a wide security gate serving a large block of shops. Reaching out she tapped in a code and the gate slid open. It closed as soon as she passed through and a large roller shutter door opened ahead, it also closed after the car entered. Lights came on when the door shut and they both got out of the car, taking their bags with them. Neither of them spoke.

“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.