UNDER THE CLOAK

by Lennek, Nicole

  “At the fork! In front of Corsini!”

  “We’re coming. Are you okay? How many people are there?” The shots crackled. Carlo looked at Claudia: she had sheltered behind a column. She also responded to the fire. There were four, and they were armed to the teeth. He hoped that Alessandro arrived quickly, because he was running out of bullets. Claudia was terrified. The gunfire was fast, as deafening was its noise. She smelled the gunpowder. The men were wearing black ski masks. She could see their eyes, dark as the night. She was behind a column, but her gun was quite empty. She observed Carlo: he smiled and mouthed: “Keep calm”.

  She heard the arrival of reinforcements and breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, the reinforcements were arriving. She nodded. She was sweating. Her hands were shaking violently. She closed her eyes, as she realized that she had the last two bullets. She prayed, trembling.

  She was afraid, afraid of dying. That wasn’t a movie. During her lessons, someone had told her that there were policemen who never used the gun in their entire career. She had never thought of that sentence before. It was time to think about it. Initially, she had hoped she was not to be one of them. Now, she regretted it, as she felt her heart pounding. That was just unreal: she wasn’t there, it was impossible. She just wanted to close her eyes and listen to the silence, feel it was over. She had shot. She had closed her eyes immediately after. She was wondering if she had hit someone. She repeated that she just wanted to close her eyes and disappear, waking up in her bed; finding out it was a nightmare.

  “Oh my…” She repeated like a litany. She leaned over. Silent had fallen all around. She saw Alessandro’s car and sighed with relief.

  Carlo inhaled.

  The reinforcements were there; the van was still and there were two men on the ground. Where were the others?

  “Two men missing, Ale!” He yelled.

  One of them stepped out of the van and fired. Carlo ducked. The man looked at them. Claudia was trembling; when Carlo had screamed she had startled violently. Now, she was completely blocked. She reached for the gun that had slipped to the ground, and tried and loaded it. She looked up and she a pair of dark eyes. She stared at them, frozen like a statue. She jumped raising her hands; the sound of two shots tore the air apart.

  She fell to the ground, in a pool of blood; the man with the mask fell on her. Chiara bit her lip, hearing Carlo scream. He rushed to the girl. She began to run towards them. The other terrorist was hurt; she had hit him with her gun.

  “Claudia!” Alessandro screamed and reached them.

  Carlo was holding her hand. Claudia was shaking violently. Her eyes wide open and terrified: “I’m cold!”

  She had a deep wound on her chest. Alessandro swore and pulled off his sweater, pressing it on her stomach to stop the bleeding. It was almost useless. Claudia was dying. He felt her life slipping away; Carlo whispered:

  “It’s all right, Claudia. It’s all right. We called an ambulance!”

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “It’s so cold… so cold…”

  Forces were departing her.

  Chiara was petrified. Claudia’s face was paler.

  Carlo held her hand; his voice was deep and calm. His eyes were shiny. His face was pale.

  “It’s all right, Claudia”

  Her eyes become glassy, off: the life was slipping away from her without return. Alessandro pressed against Claudia’s chest; then he jumped up, screaming: “No, damn, no!”

  He punched the column; Carlo lifted her body, a few moments before the arrival of the ambulance and colleagues. He rocked her. He loved her like a sister. All their moments together came back to his mind. Now she was there, motionless, without life. They were all petrified: their colleagues, also the paramedics who came from the ambulance.

  Carlo held her in his arms. She looked even more fragile and petite; her left slid down.

  Alessandro was not looking.

  His fists were clenched.

  He was trembling.

  Chapter 27

  Torres approached and Alessandro gave him the gun. He had shot and killed a man. He had to give the weapon, although the men killed had just killed a colleague. Chiara swallowed. She was cold. She gave in her gun too. Claudia died under her eyes. She could still see her slump, and felt the fear in her voice; she saw her eyes asking for help, her life slipping away. She saw just blurred lined, just heard muffled voices. The doors opened and closed creaking out.

  She had to understand what happened.

  Carlo was frozen: “I can’t believe it. She was with me… I…” She put her hand on his shoulders:

  “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t do anything…” She realized that she was speaking obvious. He stared at her:

  “Good heavens. She wasn’t even twenty-five years… and she knew she was dying… she died in my arms because of those bastards…”

  He whirled toward the only survivor; he sat handcuffed on the police van. Carlo threw himself against him; Alessandro grabbed his arm before Carlo fell on him.

  “Carlo, no. You’ll solve nothing massacring him, ok? It won’t bring Claudia back!”

  His voice was doldrums. Chiara stared into his eyes. She closed hers. How Alessandro could be so cold? Was he heartless? She saw him getting away with Carlo. They were talking. Carlo went up in a car with some colleagues, pale as ever.

  Chiara turned and started making her statement. Her voice was trembling.

  “I’m sorry, detective. We couldn’t imagine that you would have been involved in a shootout.”

  Torres was torturing his hands. She stared at him.

  “Don’t apologize. I’m a policewoman. I am aware of the risks.”

  Alessandro was wearing only his shirt. His sweater soaked in Claudia’s blood lied on the ground, along with the shell casings, the gloves used by the nurses and the guys of the forensic squad. He looked at her:

  “Go back with them…” He offered her a choice. She shook her head. She wondered what Alessandro was made of; maybe iron. He started the car without a word. After ten minutes, she asked:

  “Where are we going?”

  He sighed:

  “To visit Claudia’s parents.”

  Chiara gasped:

  “Are you sure you want me to come?”

  “I wouldn’t have given to you the opportunity to choose whether to go with me or not, if I were not sure.”

  Chiara shook her head. She watched at his hands… were dirty of the blood of her in every way? Was he corrupt and involved in those murders? Was he colluded with who killed Claudia? Why he had shot him? Was he afraid for him to speak? How did they know about the new location, despite the absolute secrecy?

  She got out of the car with him. She was still absorber by her thoughts. He rang the bell. She saw a lady opening the door. The woman smiled:

  “Detective!” Then her smile switched off; she grew pale and leaned against the door.

  “What’s happening? Where is my daughter?”

  “Elena, where is your husband?”

  “He is at work…”

  Alessandro’s voice had changed: it was low and sweet, as Chiara never heard it. She couldn’t have even imagine he could speak like that.

  “May we come in, while we call her husband? You should grab a chair and sit”.

  She nodded.

  “May we call your husband?”

  “Tell me what happened!”

  He shook his head and grabbed the phone. Then he sat down on the sofa, next to Claudia’s mother.

  He grabbed both her hands.

  “I’m sorry. Today, we have been involved in a shooting.”

  “No… no… oh, please, no… no… she’s still a little girl! I can’t…”

  “Claudia was very good. She responded to the fire, she defended us, with all her strength. She didn’t suffer. Elena, she didn’t suffer.”

  The door opened. Claudia’s father came in. His eyes were full with tears. He must have heard the news on the radio. He had i
magined, even nobody had not released the generality. He had put two and two together: he rushed to embrace his wife.

  “Roberto and Beppe are coming.”

  He looked at them:

  “Our eldest son. He works in a bank…. Beppe is Claudia’s boyfriend.”

  “Are we supposed to tell someone else?“

  “No… where is… where is she now?”

  “Mr and Mrs Russi, we sent the body to the pathologist’s office. When we are ready, we’ll call you and pick you up. I… I’m sorry; Claudia was a very good girl, a very good cop. You must be proud of her!”

  Chiara followed him out. She was still torn apart. Once they got in the car, Alessandro set the heat up. He started the car and waited until was she broke the silence:

  “Ale?”

  “Sorry. Are you hot? Do you want me to lower the heater?”

  “No, it’s okay. Are we going to the HQ?”

  He was driving safely, though his hands trembled slightly.

  “Yes. If you want, I’ll take you there. I need to go home. I already made my statement and I gave my gun in. There’s nothing I can do, and I wouldn’t go out on patrol for sure! We wouldn’t be allowed to attend the questioning. We’re too involved.”

  Chiara paused to look at the road, the landscape, and the houses. She saw again Claudia dying, thinking back to Alessandro’s gesture. He lied to Claudia’s parents sparing them an absurd pain added to an absurd death.

  Chapter 28

  “I’m tired. I would go back to my room, if this does not bother you. Or I can come with you if you don’t want to be alone!”

  Alessandro swallowed, taking the road to his house. He parked the car. He took a quick look of the street, and then he got out of the car. She followed him, without a word. As soon as the door was closed behind them, he turned to her: she was upset. Her hands were trembling. She approached him, stroking his face:

  “Ale?” He shook his head:

  “I need a shower.”

  He took off his shirt, as if she wasn’t there. He looked angry and distressed: for the first time since she has known him, she was seeing the man behind the mask.

  His hands were trembling, while he pulled down his jeans, and bumbled shoelaces. He went to the bathroom. She waited. The brown case was gone; also, she noticed that his desk was in perfect order. She couldn’t think of anything; memories dazed her. After fifteen minutes, she started worrying. She went to the bathroom and knocked at the door:

  “Ale? Ale, are you okay?”

  She opened the door and froze out. He was in the shower, his head bent down, both his arms resting on the wall; water slipped on him. He didn’t move. She looked at his body. Then, she leaned out and closed the water. She was soak wet. He didn’t move:

  “Ale… Tell me something.” Nothing.

  He kept his eyes closed. Then, he turned toward her with a jerk.

  “She died. She was terrified. She was hit in cold blood; I couldn’t save her. If… I had shot just a moment before. From another angle, maybe? If… I had been with them…”

  Chiara shook her head, handing a towel:

  “Ale. Nobody can change the past. You did no mistakes. I was there. I saw it. You didn’t hesitate. You shot. You hit and killed the man who shot.”

  “What is the point? She died! She was one of my squad! I’m the patrol leader. It’s my task to bring the guys at home!” Chiara stared at him. He couldn’t be corrupt. Yet he could, despite of his behaviour: maybe he tried to keep his guys safe, though he was a double agent. She had to be careful.

  He towelled himself:

  “Take a shower. I can provide you a shirt or something if you need clean clothes.”

  She nodded and followed him in his bedroom. Then she took off her shirt. His gaze lingered on her breast. He closed his eyes. Nothing moved in the room. He was wearing just a towel. She was wearing only pants and a bra. She shivered as she felt his gaze on herself. For the first time, she perceived his fragility. He didn’t look as usual; he wasn’t self-confident and determined. She watched ad his muscles. His fingers brushed her. Her eyes were half closed. Her breath was rushed. He lingered on her skin. She bit her own lip; he stared at her; he was leaving her time and way to react. She could move or stay. She could advance or back.

  It was different from the first time they were together, from the night before, when they get laid in a public place. Alessandro was looking for life in a day that gave nothing to live for. Chiara was discovering what lay below the surface. His hand was warm, soft. She raised a hand, stroking his face. Their lips looked for each other; as always they caused spontaneous combustion, intense and burning.

  Alessandro couldn’t explain what was happening to him. Chiara was nothing; it was beautiful, arousing, intense, with her, but without feelings. She had a mission to accomplish; he had a more important one. He couldn’t allow her to pry too much and find out everything. He had to let her to believe what he had told her. She had to consider him just an agent undercover. Nothing more and nothing less.

  Bur… why did he tremble in front of her, why his wish to hold her, kiss her, lost in her was becoming so strong? He wanted to wipe away the image of Claudia, of her glassy eyes, and sink into Chiara. Her green eyes would have banished his ghosts; they could close themselves in a bubble and take a rest. She was supposed to move and tell him he was a fool; she was supposed to command him to leave her alone; they didn’t trust each other; there were too many secrets. Maybe she didn’t even like him; they were just physics and chemistry, alchemy.

  Instead Chiara stayed and touched his face. Her finger was on his lips. He moaned softly, and then he grabbed and pulled her hand, letting the towel down, as she slipped off her pants.

  A warm wave spread out from his eyes. She felt a woman, while she was in front of him: he was looking at her with reverence, not with anger, not like a quickie against the wall, but like a woman to bring to the highest peaks of pleasure – he and she, together.

  “Chiara…” he whispered, and looked for her lips with absolute sweetness; his tongue entered her mouth. He clanged to her, with his hands on her back. He trembled and she trembled too, both thinking back to the events of the day. She stroked his chest; her lips licked his neck, his nipples. He stared into her eyes, touching her with his hands; he was stroking her chest, her belly and her legs, caressing them strongly, though his touch was light as a feather.

  Anger had always been the common thread between them; now it was different: there was only pain and a look for comfort in each other’s arms. He narrowed his eyes, when she stroked his navel and moving her pelvis; his manhood stood proud among them.

  “Chiara… I…” She shook her head, brushing his lips with two fingers.

  “It’s okay.” She leaned toward him, kissing him, following with her lips the path of her hands, until she reached his manhood; she opened her lips to lick it with her tongue, slowly, and then she moved and kissed his navel. Her breath tickled his cock.

  He gasped and pulled her hair. She looked up, trying to understand what he was thinking. He closed his eyes.

  “Do you want to kill me?” She shook her head, raising her face, when he kissed her throat and her breasts; he lingered on her nipples and rested his hands on the mattress next to her face:

  “Ale, no, no. I don’t….”

  Chiara was shaking violently, as she felt the passion invade to her, as she realized that her heart was going a mile a minute; her hands was trembling and her lips were burning. She was ready, ready for him in every sense. And she wanted it… she wanted all of him, his heart, his soul, his body; she wanted the truth and wanted… she stopped. My goodness, was she crazy?

  His voice was hoarse:

  “I think you do, Chiara… maybe… you want me to go crazy with your lips, your hands, your eyes?”

  She stared at him, with her mouth open; he jumped out. He looked upset, as if he was regretting what he said: then he shook his head.

  Chiara was looking for wa
rmth. He needed her to banish Claudia’s ghost.

  Everything was slipping through his fingers. He knew no more what he was doing. He wanted to get lost in her. He wanted still to hold her in his arms. He wanted to tell her something, something beautiful, but he couldn’t. It was too dangerous for him. He couldn’t be discovered. And sooner or later, she would have founded some truth about his mission and she would have drawn her own conclusions.

  The anger that had always moved their passion was now blind pain. His hand was burning on her body, while he stroked her with an intense caress along her gorge, her breasts, her abs, and her legs. He closed his eyes, wondering for the first time why with her he couldn’t control himself and why his heart was beating so fast… was it the pain? He had never felt something so intense.

  Chiara felt the skin burn where his hand touched her. She closed her eyes. She wanted to feel his lips. Also, she wanted to know if the real Alessandro, tormented and passionate, was the same man that was making love to her, or the arrogant and cold guy who unceremoniously had slammed her against the wall the night before.

  She felt his lips replace the hand as he sank his fingers in her lips, while his mouth slid between her legs, slipping into on with his tongue.

  She felt his legs trembling. She was afraid to falling to the ground. His teeth grazed her intimately. She clung to his shoulders. She couldn’t think, she didn’t know who she was and who he was. He tickled the right spot and made her tremble and moan. Chiara believed to die. She felt the pleasure inside her. She squirmed, trembling. When he lifted, touching her body, Chiara hoped that he almost came back angry; she urged for the blind passion she had always found in him, because the sweetness, the emotion, the feelings she was sensing weren’t what she wanted or had to try. Yet, she felt his heart beat furiously. She saw his manhood standing proud against her. She saw his eyes casting flames. She touched his lips with a finger, lost in a cloud of pleasure.