13.2 The Country Squire

Next day, Natalia stayed in the room. Telephone on the bed. “Beep…beep…beep…” she dropped it again. Every time she dropped the handset, a teleprinter in the office room zipped a fast print one line of the call details; time, room number, destination, duration, etc.

“Hello!” responded a lady, “I know, but Mr Cyril is not in town. He’s in Europe. Try next month.”

“This is very…very important,” Natalia began.

“Beep…beep…beep…” She dropped the phone.

A girl in the office room checked the teleprinter to find metres of pages printing calls made from Room Number 330; Duration 0

“Who is in this room?” asked Melanie.

“It’s the tomboy,” replied the receptionist.

“She is trying to call the whole world…New York, Durham, Raleigh, Chicago. She tried 57 times!”

“Fifty-seven! She’s gone mad! Cut the line!”

“No,” said Melanie, “Call her room and ask if she needed help to get connected to whom she’s calling.”

Natalia realised she was getting nowhere. She’d rather make her mind to go to North Carolina or perhaps after Linda. She could be in Corpus Christi. Natalia picked her cell phone from the bag and dialled Alejandro Severo. He said he’d call as soon as he gets information regarding her whereabouts.

Susie nudged Melanie, “She is coming. She looks like a trainwreck.” And when Natalia reached the counter, she changed her tone, “Good Afternoon, Miss Phol! Have you had lunch?”

“No,” returned Natalia resting her elbows on the counter that stood by a nook, “I’m looking for a brochure for hotels in North Carolina.”

“Any specific category you prefer?”

She frowned, “Five Star!”

Susie picked a brochure and passed to her, “You can order a brunch if you like.”

“Thank you. Can I make this hotel booking from here?”

“Yes, you can.”

Natalia climbed the rooftop terrace and ordered that brunch. She was not satisfied with the few choices in the brochure. She was looking for big names on an open budget. Natalia eventually returned to the reception and booked Shereton Raleigh for two nights.

That night she spent with Valerie who suggested that she take the car for two days.

 

So, Natalia borrowed the Honda coupe and set on her journey, five hours drive to Raleigh, NC. She wore that white sheath dress and started early before Saturday traffic poured out of town.

The Honda Accord coupe was built in the US and exported to Japan with left-hand drive. It looked sporty and stylish, a door mount seatbelt that gave ease to seat adjustment and a roomy interior for a coupe.

On the road, she could hear the tyres on the tar, smooth engine, light steering and performance keeping in straight line at high speed. All smiles…

An hour into the journey, she hit a storm, gears turning in her head and very stiff. It was said about this car; easy layout to the controls without much orientation. Visibility zeroed but she continued on her way.

Reaching the destination, she drove up Salisbury trying to find the hotel. A skift of snow on the sidewalks and oak trees, a minor blizzard in the way. Natalia came unprepared for the cold.

On her sixth attempt, returning on Fayetteville Street, she saw the letters; ‘Shereton’. She did better than a taxi driver anyway. A red brick edifice that looked like a monastery compared to other glass-fitted towers in her blurry sight. She went after the big names and made this mistake.

A truss over the lobby, huge arched doors and red brick walls, there was nothing to impress. Swimming pool area paved with monastery stones. This place had seen better days. Natalia was given a narrow room on the twelfth floor with a single window and no balcony. It was warm inside.

There were many bars around and she spent the evening in the best way to quench the chill.

 

Next morning, she rolled through the traffic, out of town and headed to Trailwood to the venue of Thomas Cyril. It was located between the two lakes of Raleigh and Johnson. As she passed the huge campus ground, Natalia wondered why Thomas Cyril was sending his children to schools in Asheville; her resort to face him if she couldn’t meet him here. Natalia remembered, last time she drove to Asheville, it was covered of green to the verge.

There was construction going on in the campus ground as more facilities being added. She could see in the snowscape land. This area around the City of Raleigh accommodated several schools and universities.

She raced through the oakwood trail. Dead barks and branches of the tall trees on both sides and beyond – land of the oaks. No other speeder on the road and then she saw a cyclist. She stepped on the brakes. This sporty-looking car squeaked and skidded, she came to a halt in two hundred feet. It was a near miss.

Finally, she reached the trail on Trailwood Drive. She turned in and drove up to the gate; 33 Tanager Road. There stood a house on her right. A man in black overalls appeared carrying a hunting rifle. She stepped out of the car wearing a light brown moto jacket, blue jeans and in those booties.

“I have to meet Mr Thomas Cyril,” she said.

“Did you make an appointment?” he asked.

“This is very important for him,” she passed him her business card.

“Please wait here!” And he was gone in through the tall gate.

Natalia climbed the car and glanced around. She was sort of lucky to come in winter because she could see a lot of ground beyond the trees which otherwise would be covered of leaves. She picked her very own Nikon N90 and quickly clicked a few snaps while seated in the car. She noticed a light green fence beyond the trees that too would be hidden obviously if not for the season.

That guy appeared at the gate and waved her to come. Natalia rolled the car and he gestured to get out of the car and walk.

He said, “There is a call for you.” Natalia entered the gate to a guard post and picked the handset.

A woman spoke, “Miss Natalia Phol. I’ve got your message. Mr Thomas Cyril is in Scotland. He is expected to return after a month. And when he comes, he’d meet you at the Cyril Corporation Headquarters in New York or in Durham. He doesn’t stay here. Make an appointment with this number.” And she passed a phone number.

“I did but they never called back,” said Natalia.

“This time they will.”

“Will you kindly pass my card to Mr Cyril.”

“Don’t worry. I will do that. And please make the appointment.”

She reached nowhere after travelling hundreds of miles. Natalia caught a glimpse of a house standing in deep woods and dogs in the premise. She climbed the car and drove out of the driveway.

She turned to Thistledown and in five hundred yards, sighted a crane. She stopped the car at once; again, squirming and it locked the front wheel. She glanced at the clearing on the left, some construction going on. She grabbed the map and looked into it. Again, peeked at the top of the crane. Negative. It won’t help her catch a sight over the trees.

She noticed a little pond in the Cyril premise and a trail leading towards it from this Thistledown Drive. She turned the car and, in few minutes, drove deep into the trail. Natalia climbed down with the Nikon camera and headed into the thicket. This ground was sleeky with leaves, branches, sand, ice and twigs. Her booties soiled.

She trailed up to the paint-faded stockade fence that stood very tall, probably erected around this entire perimeter. Natalia looked for the tallest tree, grabbed one and began to climb in her cone heel black booties which was not an obstacle. She climbed like a monkey. She was able to see some large houses, probably, with green roofs in a vast clearing amidst the trees in five hundred acres and a pond to the right. She began to take pictures.

Natalia climbed down tearing her jacket which was no surprise because she bought it from a cheap sale. She jumped down to the ground to lose a heel of her boot. That complete sole bottom came apart. Now it became an obstacle.

She gave up and hobbled back to the car. Natalia came unprepared and in the wrong time of the year. She decided not to drive that long distance to Asheville in this weather and quite uncertain of an outcome. Disagreeable to disturb families in a high-class neighbourhood. Natalia decided to go back to San Diego and reorganise.