Free Counterpoint by John Day Page A

down the mountain. The driver powered through the
soft ballast to overcome the drag and emerged from it, with just
enough momentum left in the car to climb onto the proper road.
    “Well done!” Praised Philippe. “They
won’t catch us now. “
    He called ahead for his helicopter to
intercept them and made good his escape. When airborne, Philippe
felt puzzled at the ease with which his pursuers had given up the
chase. He knew he was now a hunted man, but still more useful to
them alive than dead, at least until Project Oracle was
complete.
    As the Duke’s staff ran into the room,
Carla was sliding from under Max and getting up. She froze at the
sight of the pool of blood, starkly contrasted against the white
marble floor, spreading from Max’s head. She rolled him on his back
and gasped at the damage to his face from the gun blast.
    She looked over at the Duke, the red
stain on his shirt spreading downwards as blood oozed from his
still heart. The two most precious people in her life, taken from
her in an instant, no time for goodbye’s, or to say how much she
loved them. A brief thought for Max was all she could muster, the
bonds were there, and she did love him, but compared to the Duke,
she hardly knew him.
    The way the Duke had turned her life
around since she met him, pulled her from drink, drugs, and
prostitution, given her purpose, challenge, and excitement. Words
would not have been enough to describe her gratitude, but the tears
in her eyes said it all. Perhaps his spirit could see them now as
they rolled down her cheeks, she hoped so, they were all she could
offer. Emotionally strong, though she was, this was more than she
could bear, and she fainted.
    The staff with paramedical training
confirmed the Duke was actually dead; they rushed his body to the
mini hospital in the basement.
    The contingency of his sudden death had
been allowed for.
    He was immediately connected to a life
support machine, his chest was opened, the damaged blood vessels
repaired and then he was stitched up. The fact he was brain dead
did not matter to The Organisation, biologically he was alive, and
in time, the damaged tissue would heal. He could die officially at
a more convenient time, no questions asked.
    A complex chain of events had now
kicked into action. The Duke’s business empire was like a house of
cards. Without this key person in control, confidence amongst the
business associates would evaporate, The Organisation would fail;
the house of cards would collapse.
    Within moments of his death, the
management of The Organisation contacted the Duke’s double; he
would be flown in to act as the figurehead whilst the management
continued to run The Organisation. The real Duke’s successor had
already been appointed. His name was Sam Leighton.
    Eventually The Organisation would
announce the Duke wished to retire and later when all fronts were
stable, would quietly pass away.
    Sam Leighton had been running the whole
Organisation for six years as the Duke’s right hand man so there
would be no material changes within the Organisation.
    Sam came from an upper crust family
with useful links to seats of political power throughout the World.
He secretly despised the power base of the outside world; it was in
his view, corrupt and did not benefit humanity at all, just the
political system that ran it. Sam vowed to do all he could to
change things for the better.
    Like many other top people that worked
here on the mountain, he was assimilated into The Organisation by
what appeared to be, chance. The process was so gradual, it went
unnoticed by him, until the ethos of the group was revealed to him,
six years ago.
    The Duke met him at some high society
party in America and their friendship developed from there. Being
rather aimless at the time Sam welcomed the Duke’s invitation to
visit his home in Italy and the subsequent mission, all expenses
paid, to broker a land deal.
    All went well with the deal, and he
soon realised he had made a