Chapter 61

The water was cool and refreshing as I easily stroked my way up and down the pool's length. I like swimming; it gives me time to think without being disturbed. I go into a trance like state and my body takes over. It knows what to do, how to move most efficiently and how long I should swim for.

Of course there wasn't anyone else around, the sun having only just peeped over the horizon. I hadn't slept well, neither had Sasha or any of my girls. It was too soon after the deaths and our emotions were still too raw. Getting up for a swim seemed very reasonable when compared to lying in bed, staring into the darkness, and wondering what I'd done wrong that had caused the death of two of my precious girls.

Completing my laps I lifted myself out of the water with practised ease. Wendy was coming out of the Chateau, putting her hair up in a ponytail, a towel draped casually over her shoulder. She gave a yelp as I shot out of the water, "Please Master, may I swim?" she asked, trembling.

I started drying myself, "Wendy, you're a freewoman, you may do as you wish. Besides, our servants and slaves are free to use the pool whenever they wish." I looked her in the eye, "It doesn't matter who else is in the pool either."

I went to her, "Wendy, you are a guest here. Please feel free to use any of the facilities whenever you have time to do so." She looked unsure, "You'll be in and out at all hours while you investigate these murders. You must ring for the Chef when you miss a meal, she'll sort something out. And don't be afraid to ask for what you want either." I smiled, trying to show that I wasn't an ogre.

She looked at me and gave me a small shy smile, "Yes, Master."

"Wendy, I'm not your master, call me Paul."

I swear I heard Susan and Varinka's voices, "Yes sir," they said together, a hint of amusement in their tone. I looked round, then back to Wendy. I could tell she'd been told what to say if I ever said, 'Call me Paul.' but she wasn't secure enough to tease me like that yet.

I turned so she wouldn't see the tears that welled up in my eyes.

"Master..."

"Call me Boss," I interrupted.

"Boss," she said obviously happier with that, "I need a mobile phone."

"Of course you do!" I was shocked that we'd forgotten a mobile. "See Jo before you go out and she'll give you a Blackberry." I smiled at her, this time she smiled back. "Enjoy your swim."

"Thank you ... Boss." She dropped her towel and, with grace and agility, dived into the pool.

Though it was very early Shannon came padding out, pulling off her pyjamas, this time a Eurasian girl walked besides her carrying the ever present DSi. I recognised the girl as one of Paula's special team, her own personal bodyguards. Paula obviously thought highly of my little Granddaughter to give her such special protection.

I picked Shannon up and she gave me a strangling hug and a sloppy kiss.

"Good morning Granddad." She looked at the girl, "Great Aunty Paula said that Menolly was looking after me for a little while." She looked round and then whispered in my ear, "I think she's protecting me from your new girl."

The grapevine amongst my Ladies must operate at light speed. I bet everyone knew all about what happened last night. And Menolly, the last time I'd heard that name was in a science fiction book about dragons, dragon-riders and harpers. Looking at Menolly, I would bet that, while she might not be a golden queen dragon, she was most definitely a green dragon, wiry, lithe, very pretty to look at, and totally deadly.

Shannon jumped into the water and started splashing her way across the pool's width. Wendy must have realised that this little girl was held in high regard, while she had fucked up royally and was currently just tolerated, as she climbed out of the other end of the pool. She walked into the Chateau leaving her towel behind.

We had breakfast in the small dining room, sunlight streaming in through the large windows. Richard was eating when we entered, eggs and bacon I noticed. He watched me enter and obviously saw my small smile.

"Not all cholesterol is bad you know." He continued eating heartily despite our laughter.

I sat in my usual seat, Umber kneeling on my right, Julia on my left. Melissa took up a protective position behind me.

Wendy entered and saw my two body slaves, "Tell me Baron," that word dripped venom, "do you have to force your slaves to debase themselves so publicly?"

Jo, who had entered with a boxed company Blackberry in hand, almost exploded. "MY MASTER DOES NOT HAVE TO FORCE ANYONE TO SUBMIT TO HIM!"

We all stared at her in surprise.

"We slaves almost fight for the honour of being fed from our Master's plate. This is something we desire, not our Master." Jo continued.

Sasha entered reading the Times, "Fucked up again, Wendy?" she asked conversationally. She smacked me around the head with her paper, "And you should write an introductory leaflet, 'My Family', so that the slaves you free can understand what you and your girls are like." She sat, continuing to read as she sipped the coffee which had been hastily served.

She looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "Get Gail to write one, she'll know what to say." With that she immersed herself again in the Times' in depth analysis of something or other.

"I didn't know," Wendy said plaintively.

"You didn't ask," replied Julia round a mouthful of bacon.

Richard spoke up just then, surprising us all. "Wendy, he," pointing at me with a sausage laden fork, "bought you because you have a reputation as a towering intellect, someone who can weave together a whole pile of differing statements and stories, facts and lies, and discern the truth. He paid a huge amount for you and yesterday, in the short time you were with me, you showed star qualities. However, since you arrived here you haven't used your incredible brain to work out the relationships between the Baron, his slaves and the other people here. Please believe me when I say that I personally would rather jump into a lion's den than insult the Baron here, where he is at the centre of his family and friends."

Laughter behind me caused us all to turn. "What idiot is trying to piss Paul off?" Gerald asked.

Everyone, apart from me, pointed at Wendy.

As he sat Gerald shook his head. "You'll learn," he said with a brief glance at Wendy. "Good morning, Sasha," he said, moments later he lobbed a tomato over her paper. "Pass some bread, Sasha darling," he asked with a cheeky laugh.

Sasha dropped the top half of her paper and glared at him. Still glaring she reached forward and picked up a half baguette. She looked at the baguette for a second and then, javelin like, threw it at him as hard as she could.

Casually, Sung Lu plucked the baguette out of the air and placed it onto Gerald's side plate.

"Thanks Sasha," he laughed.

Sasha just shook her paper at him.

Wendy looked around at us as though we were mad, or a family enjoying each other's company.

We enjoyed breakfast. The talk was lively, not as ribald as usual, but witty and, at times, pointed. At times I felt guilty that I was enjoying myself so soon after my girls' deaths. Other times I felt an almost all-enveloping rage that these happy times had been stolen from them, and within seconds I would become almost emotionally numb. Helen had explained that these feelings and mood swings were a perfectly normal part of grieving. I just didn't like the loss of control though.

Soon Richard and Wendy left the table. Richard to the local hospital to perform the autopsies, Wendy back to the village to continue the interviews and collation of the statements.

"Here's something that'll amuse you," said Sasha as she dropped the Times in front of me. The whole front page was taken up by a single story, Hamish and Rona McConner, handcuffed, being led by police officers.

I laughed, loud and long. Chalky and his Daughter had done a wonderful job. The full story, outlined over four whole pages, told of an 'honest' burglar, who, having stumbled upon some very strong kiddie porn, had sent samples to the police with digital pictures of the McConner's secret diary showing when the next 'party' was going to be held. Eight men and four women had been caught with their trousers, quite literally, down. Four girls and two boys had been rescued.

The police were hailing this as a major success. They had investigated and smashed one of the major paedophile rings in western Europe. That raised the greatest laugh from me. I'll bet that the local Chief Constable had been having dinner with the McConners within the last month, and being really matey with them too.

The McConners accomplices' hadn't been named. Only an anonymous tip off, together with a photo clearly showing Hamish in a 'compromising position' with a young boy, made a Times reporter and photographer hide out in the grounds of the McConner estate on the fateful night. They were, of course, rewarded with this scoop.

This news cheered me up immensely. Now I also understood Alex's opening remarks on the phone yesterday.

Elastic came up and stood beside me, well as close as she could as Umber was still kneeling at my side with her head resting on my thigh. She could obviously see what I was reading.

"Boss, that girl's back again. She's at the cafè in the village, you're taking Melissa aren't you Boss."

I smiled up at her and stood. I leant in for a kiss which Elastic returned enthusiastically. "Of course I'm taking Melissa; Wicked Wendy might be in the village."

Neither Melissa nor Elastic approved of my levity.

The walk along the village's main street took some time; almost every house had someone who came out to talk, to apologise, to tell me that they'd been to the church and given their statements. That they'd prayed for the souls of my girls. This walk was hard but I knew it had to be done. These people needed to expunge their souls; they were convinced that they needed forgiveness from me.

I would go to the church later. I wanted to have a word with the Monsignor, and I wanted to have a look at the graveyard.

Melissa followed me closely, watching over me like a mother hen. Slowly we worked our way to the village square and Chalkie's daughter.

"What's happened?" she demanded as we sat at her table.

"The day you came here two of my slaves went missing..." I started.

"Runaways?" she interrupted.

"They were found tortured to death early yesterday morning." I gesture to the tree in the centre of the square, police tape still visible here and there. She paled visibly.

We waited for a few minutes while she composed herself. Taking a sip of her espresso she looked at me.

"Dad hopes you're satisfied with the results," she said.

I smiled, recalling Alex's satisfaction with the McConners political demise. "Yes I'm very impressed with your work. I might have more work for you soon, can you leave an email address?" She looked uncertain. "How about you send an email to this address from the account you want to use?" I wrote an address on a small piece of blank card and slid it over the table to her.

When she saw the address her eyebrows shot right up and she gave a huge smile. "And we can contact you..." waving the card, " ... here?" she asked, very surprised.

"Well, I don't actually think their webmaster knows that we're riding on his email server." I smiled at her laughter, "My people who know about these things say he's not very good."

"Oh Dad is going to love this."

She rose, slipped a twenty Euro note under her cup and walked down the road laughing.

Jeanine came out to clear away her cup but I stopped her, "Jeanine, please ask the police if they would be so kind as to take the finger prints and DNA off this cup. Test it against any that they may find on or around my girls."

"Oui Monsieur," said Jeanine as she hurried away.

I sipped at my coffee and looked at the tree.

And cried.

The church was old, squatter and wider than its English counterpart, looking strange to eyes used to the higher, narrower English styles. The cool dark interior, poorly lit by dirty, stained-glass windows, echoed around me. Dark oak pews sat in ordered rows. The high pulpit almost loomed over the pews. The congregation would be in no doubt about the authority of the priest in this church. The bright red of the carpet leading toward the barrier in front of the altar almost seemed out of place in this dark, cool cavern.

"Baron, it's good to meet you at last, though I am truly sorry for the reason that you came here," said a warm mellow voice behind me.

I turned and saw the priest, a white haired man, thin, almost spindly, his long thin face expressing his concern for our loss.

"What can we do for you, Baron?" he asked, direct and to the point.

"I'd like to have a look at the graveyard please." I replied.

He nodded and gestured to a side door. Opening the door he led us into a small meadow, in which stood a small group of quite new headstones. "The Countess's Mother left this meadow to her people for use as a graveyard." He turned and smiled at me, "The old one was dreadfully cramped, completely full."

He pointed out some small groups of saplings. "We've planted some trees for shade. Well in another twenty years or so they'll provide some shade." He walked slowly over to a gentle slope which looked out across the Petite Loire. "This area has been reserved for the Family." I could easily hear the capital in 'Family'. "Madam Cecile has suggested that your girls should lie just here," he pointed out the area, to the side of the main family plot but still having a nice position and view over the valley. "The Countess needs to give her permission of course. But I expect that will be a formality."

I was a little puzzled, I hadn't heard of this Countess. Nobody had introduced me or suggested I go visit her. I would have to ask Sasha when I returned to the Chateau. I turned to Melissa, "Make a note; I need to see this Countess to get permission for Susan and Varinka to be buried here."

"Yes Master," she replied and walked two or three steps away to contact our people at the Chateau for them to make the arrangements. I turned back to the Priest to see a strange, amused, glint in his eye. He seemed to know something I didn't. Well that situation wasn't unusual. When Melissa returned to my side she was smiling too. Ummm both of them now.

I walked slowly round the meadow, from the side of the church we could look down into the village. I saw the car that Wendy had been given parked beside a small group of cottages. I didn't see any sign of Wendy though. I do hope that she stops making mistakes about my girls and I. She could be a very valuable asset to my businesses. I'd work her arse off. And it was a nice arse too.

As I turned back to the priest a thought struck me, "Sasha's the Countess isn't she?"

Both the priest and Melissa smiled. "Yes Baron, she is," he answered. "Hadn't she told you?"

"No, she hasn't. Maybe this calls for a spanking." I answered.

Melissa's smile widened at that thought.

I took a final look around me, at the sweet meadow and squat church. Reaching out I offered my hand to the priest, we shook hands, "I'll see you again soon, Monsignor," I said.

I turned and started walking back into the village, Melissa at my side.