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Authors: Scott Mariani
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gravel at the bottom of a flight of polished white stone steps that were maybe not quite wide enough to accommodate the wingspan of a Boeing 747 and climbed out, stretching his legs after the long drive.
Someone was coming down the steps to meet him. A man in a beige suit, around fifty, a little shorter than Ben and lightly built with the delicate frame of a lifelong desk guy. As the man walked closer, Ben could see his eyes were sharp and his face lean, the thin hair neatly parted and combed. He put out his hand and greeted Ben in English, which he spoke with only a trace of an accent. The warmth of his smile seemed genuine.
?Mr Hope? So pleased to meet you. My name is Heinrich Dorenkamp. I am Herr Steiner?s PA. I trust you had a pleasant journey??
Ben wasn?t in the mood for niceties, but he returned the smile as Dorenkamp seemed to warrant it. ?Very pleasant, thank you.?
?Herr Steiner is very much looking forward to making your acquaintance. Regrettably it will not be today. He is tied up in meetings for the rest of the evening.?
?A busy man,? Ben commented.
Dorenkamp flashed a grin and chuckled. ?You have no idea.?
A guy in his early twenties who looked like a valet emerged from a side entrance and walked over to them.
?Dieter will take your car and have your luggage sent on to your quarters,? Dorenkamp told Ben. ?The garage blocks are situated to the rear of the east wing. All fully secure, naturally.?
Ben handed the Mini?s key to Dieter, and watched as his little car was driven off across the gravel and round the side of the ch?teau. He wondered how anyone was ever going to find it again among the Rolls-Royces, Aston Martins and Bugattis that he imagined filled the garages of a man like Maximilian Steiner.
Dorenkamp smiled again. ?Now, please allow me to escort you to the guest accommodation, where the rest of your team are waiting for you. They arrived here late this afternoon.?
My team , Ben thought, and cursed himself one more time for good measure. From the opposite direction another member of staff came rolling up in a white golf buggy. Dorenkamp motioned to the back seats. ?We generally use these for getting around. It is a big place.?
Ben didn?t reply as he climbed into the open buggy. Dorenkamp settled in beside him and the electric vehicle darted off through the grounds with surprising speed. As the sunlight faded, concealed floodlamps were beginning to burn brighter, lighting up the house and grounds. Around the side of the ch?teau, the view opened up to show more panoramic acres of perfectly clipped lawns, so green that they looked unreal. Ben said nothing, taking in his surroundings as they cut across the estate. In the distance he could see the little flags of a golf course waving in the light breeze.
?You play, Mr Hope?? Dorenkamp asked.
Ben shook his head and was about to reply when the buggy rounded another gigantic column and the PA said, ?And here are your quarters.?
The accommodation was no ch?teau, but it was still spectacular enough to make Le Val look like a rustic hovel. The ultra-modern building was built into the side of a hill, its roof grassed over and dotted with wildflowers. Its white facade was smooth and undulating, a post-modern complex of caves with huge oval windows. Stylistically it was completely at odds with the ch?teau itself, but Ben had never seen a building so organically blended into its natural environment.
Dorenkamp noted his reaction with approval. ?Designed by the architect Peter Vetsch. The inside is extremely well appointed. I don?t think you will be unhappy here.?
The inside was as white as the outside, the lines clean and elegant. The floors were granite tile that had been polished to a mirrored sheen, and the furniture was gleaming oak and white leather. Kandinsky and Paul Klee adorned the walls, and Ben would have bet they weren?t copies. A giant TV and sound system nestled discreetly in an oval wall alcove.
The worst thing about the place was the other
Someone was coming down the steps to meet him. A man in a beige suit, around fifty, a little shorter than Ben and lightly built with the delicate frame of a lifelong desk guy. As the man walked closer, Ben could see his eyes were sharp and his face lean, the thin hair neatly parted and combed. He put out his hand and greeted Ben in English, which he spoke with only a trace of an accent. The warmth of his smile seemed genuine.
?Mr Hope? So pleased to meet you. My name is Heinrich Dorenkamp. I am Herr Steiner?s PA. I trust you had a pleasant journey??
Ben wasn?t in the mood for niceties, but he returned the smile as Dorenkamp seemed to warrant it. ?Very pleasant, thank you.?
?Herr Steiner is very much looking forward to making your acquaintance. Regrettably it will not be today. He is tied up in meetings for the rest of the evening.?
?A busy man,? Ben commented.
Dorenkamp flashed a grin and chuckled. ?You have no idea.?
A guy in his early twenties who looked like a valet emerged from a side entrance and walked over to them.
?Dieter will take your car and have your luggage sent on to your quarters,? Dorenkamp told Ben. ?The garage blocks are situated to the rear of the east wing. All fully secure, naturally.?
Ben handed the Mini?s key to Dieter, and watched as his little car was driven off across the gravel and round the side of the ch?teau. He wondered how anyone was ever going to find it again among the Rolls-Royces, Aston Martins and Bugattis that he imagined filled the garages of a man like Maximilian Steiner.
Dorenkamp smiled again. ?Now, please allow me to escort you to the guest accommodation, where the rest of your team are waiting for you. They arrived here late this afternoon.?
My team , Ben thought, and cursed himself one more time for good measure. From the opposite direction another member of staff came rolling up in a white golf buggy. Dorenkamp motioned to the back seats. ?We generally use these for getting around. It is a big place.?
Ben didn?t reply as he climbed into the open buggy. Dorenkamp settled in beside him and the electric vehicle darted off through the grounds with surprising speed. As the sunlight faded, concealed floodlamps were beginning to burn brighter, lighting up the house and grounds. Around the side of the ch?teau, the view opened up to show more panoramic acres of perfectly clipped lawns, so green that they looked unreal. Ben said nothing, taking in his surroundings as they cut across the estate. In the distance he could see the little flags of a golf course waving in the light breeze.
?You play, Mr Hope?? Dorenkamp asked.
Ben shook his head and was about to reply when the buggy rounded another gigantic column and the PA said, ?And here are your quarters.?
The accommodation was no ch?teau, but it was still spectacular enough to make Le Val look like a rustic hovel. The ultra-modern building was built into the side of a hill, its roof grassed over and dotted with wildflowers. Its white facade was smooth and undulating, a post-modern complex of caves with huge oval windows. Stylistically it was completely at odds with the ch?teau itself, but Ben had never seen a building so organically blended into its natural environment.
Dorenkamp noted his reaction with approval. ?Designed by the architect Peter Vetsch. The inside is extremely well appointed. I don?t think you will be unhappy here.?
The inside was as white as the outside, the lines clean and elegant. The floors were granite tile that had been polished to a mirrored sheen, and the furniture was gleaming oak and white leather. Kandinsky and Paul Klee adorned the walls, and Ben would have bet they weren?t copies. A giant TV and sound system nestled discreetly in an oval wall alcove.
The worst thing about the place was the other
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