Chapter 9: Sofía

My head was still spinning with Cynthiana’s revelations as I sat down for lunch with the de la Vega sisters. I quickly learned that Isabella was the oldest at thirty-two, and Sofía the baby at twenty-four. Their father, Count Cristóbal Benavente de la Vega, was Cynthiana’s second husband and together they had four daughters. Their marriage eventually ended when Sofía was twelve, (when Cynthiana became a director of the foundation). Since that time, they had remained on friendly terms, sharing the parenting duties and the girls spending time both at their father’s estate in Spain and with their mother in Paris and Zurich. I also learned that their father had remarried and that Cynthiana was friends with her also. Alas, Cynthiana had never remarried.

“When will I meet your sisters?” I asked the girls. “And are they as pretty as you two?”

“They are both more beautiful than us and probably not for a long time,” Isabella teased. “Cayetana, who’s twenty-nine, is married and expecting her second child. Her husband is the undersecretary to the Minister of Agriculture in Madrid. And Esperanza, who’s twenty-six, just became an assistant professor of Physics at Duke University in North Carolina.”

“So what was it like growing up in two families like you did?” I asked. Both girls began to talk about their childhoods and the charms and challenges of being part of two very old and prominent European families. Soon, one of the staff came to tell us it was time to go.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“We’re taking you downtown to the government building to get your Swiss passport,” Isabella explained.

“But isn’t it a holiday here?” I asked.

“You’ll find that there are no holidays where the Foundation is concerned,” she replied as if that explained everything.

Cynthiana joined us in the foyer and handed me a large rectangular box. Inside was a gray Mackintosh Dalton Wool and Cashmere Blend Peacoat.

“Coming from the tropics, I decided you need a winter coat. At least while you’re in Zurich. I hope it fits.”

It fit like a dream and I surprised her with a big hug. Then, we all went out and piled in the limousine for the short trip downtown. After all the buildup, the event itself, receiving my diplomatic passport, was a letdown. The Swiss government was issuing the passport as a favor for one of the largest banks in Switzerland. End of story.

It was over and we were back on the street in less than twenty minutes. The downtown area looked interesting and I wanted to explore a little, but Cynthiana said we had to get back to the house for my next appointment.

When we got back, Isabella led me to one of the out buildings. Plain and nondescript on the outside, when I went in, I was immersed in a beautifully manicured and maintained Japanese garden. Following a narrow trail of finely groomed sand, we crossed over a small Japanese style bridge where I could hear the water tumbling quietly over the rocks. We then wound our way along the orderly trail past small, intricately shaped trees and bushes, and everywhere I looked I could see carved statues and replicas of temples and arches. I was having trouble realizing this was all inside a large warehouse. Finally, we came to a clearing.

There stood a Japanese style pagoda. Isabella had me remove my shoes and we stepped inside. The floors were polished exotic hardwood of some kind and there were all manner of odd looking weapons hanging on the walls. In the center of the room was an exercise mat. Isabella stopped us at the edge of the mat.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” said a short man in perfect English. He was kneeling on the other side of the mat and wearing, what I was to learn, was a black fighting gee. With perfect ease he went from kneeling to standing in a single move, then, with arms straight at his side, he bowed. “It is good to see you again, daughter,” he said.

Isabella copied his bow and said, “It is an honor to see you again, Sensei. May I present your new student, Alex.”

Not knowing what else to do, I copied Isabella’s bow and said, “I am honored, sir.”

“Not like that,” he said as he crossed the mat and repositioned my upper body and then lifted my chin. “Never take your eyes off your opponent.”

And just like that, my lessons began. I was to find that Sensei was a man of even fewer words than Reggie. But what words he used were both powerful and wise. For the next hour the Sensei taught me how to fall. That’s it. No moves, no tosses, no breaking things with my hands. Just how to fall. And at the end of that hour I was wringing wet with sweat as I lay heaving on the mat.