Another photo: there was Jamal, hidden in the middle of ten other people. So they were related to him. Why had Alessandro gone there? She also recognized that some kids that she had already seen in other photos, but she couldn’t understand what it could be in the case: she wanted to be a soothsayer, but she wasn’t.
She watched at the notes. Damn. They were difficult to interpret. She couldn’t understand. She looked around to avoid being caught unprepared; nobody had to see her; she moved cautiously, caring to the slightest noise. She went out from the apartment; she was already inside for too long. She walked quickly and looked forward. The conference with the diplomatic corps was supposed to begin hours before. She would come later, damn. She wanted to look at her notes. She went to the car. She turned pale. Damn. Could it be? She had to have a proof. She looked again; she walked around the building. She saw a grate. She tried to defuse it: a droplet of sweat beaded on her lips.
“Damn!” It was a workshop. What they were making? No fireworks, for sure! She left quickly, and called for bomb squad; she had to ring someone at the HQ. Tied up. She swore in a low voice. The phone of Alessandro was off. Carlo’s rang but he didn’t answer.
She reached the conference room, she rushed and found Torres, analysing the faces of the people around. She warned the guard, but he looked puzzled:
“I need an order!”
Chiara swore softly. She spotted Torres; the she saw one of the men in the photos. She began to run. She saw the exact moment when the men saw her. He was running in the opposite direction. She yelled:
“Bomb!”
Her shouted split the air, paralyzing everyone; fractions of a second to react before the explosion. Chiara lunged out of the window, a few moments before.
The blow up covered the sound of breaking glass. She rolled on the ground, ignoring her wounds. She bent and crouched down.
The roar had deafened her. She felt lightheaded and confused.
Alessandro went out; he was advancing through the smoke and debris. Where was she? He saw a colleague on the ground. There was nothing to do. He breathed, advancing. He leaned toward a wounded colleague:
“Sandra, is everything okay?” She nodded slowly. He rose up. Where was Chiara? She had to be in the area of the interrogation room when she entered in a fury.
He saw Carlo: he sensed that he was looking for her. He ignored him, until he saw her, lying on the ground. He fell beside her. She was a little ball, curled up in fetal position. She was still.
“Chiara! Chiara?” She was unconscious, but she was still breathing. Her heart was beating regularly. She was covered with cuts and blood. He lifted her in his arms, away from the debris, bringing her to the point of triage. She lay helpless in his arms. He felt in the grip of a thousand different emotions. She deposited her on a stretcher by calling doctors:
“Get away!” He stood watching them cut the mesh, medicate her and put the drip. He closed his eyes:
“Do you want to come with us to the hospital?”
He didn’t hesitate a single second, slipping by ambulance with them. She was still inert, mute.
Once they arrived at the hospital, he came out:
“What the hell happened? Jamal, it wasn’t meant to be this way; I want a reason! No! I don’t care; you owe me a fucking explanation. Damn! That is not we agreed!”
He hung up. He was furious. He regretted he quitted smoking. He had been smoking since 16 to 18 years with friends… a lot of kids fools… Now he repented. A nice cigarette would have calmed his nerve. Instead, he opted for a black coffee. At least, its strong flavour could distract him.
Chapter 31
“Is she awake?” Alessandro saw the nurse making a negative sign. He swore whispering and entered the room. He grabbed her hand taking care not to touch the pipes of the drip. Slowly, Chiara blinked and open her eyes.
“Chiara!”
Her eyes widened. She blinked several times, as if she was unable to focus. She closed them again. Alessandro thought that she was unconscious.
Instead, she opened her eyes. Watching at him, she whispered:
“Who are you? What happened? Where are they?”
Alessandro froze.
“Chiara?”
She narrowed her eyes and opened them again, repeating:
“Who are you?”
The nurse, who had just entered, stared at him:
“Your girlfriend needs a rest!”
He opened his mouth and was up to reply but the nurse pushed him out of the room. Chiara was staring at him, puzzled and frightened.
“Are you my boyfriend?”
Her voice was a whisper but he could hear it. He closed his eyes: she could have been dead. He ran a hand through his hair. All the choices he had made before did not persuade him anymore. He approached her, despite the glare of the nurse. He watched her face, the cuts on her hands. He touched her cheek:
“Chiara… rest now. There was an explosion!”
“But am I alive, right?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Kiss me!” She wanted to feel alive. She was feeling broken: it was all white. The walls of the hospital gave her the idea of a purgatory.
He opened his eyes. She repeated, whispering:
“Kiss me…”
He looked at the nurse, who answered:
“Probably, she isn’t herself at this time. Do it.”
He leaned down, brushing his lips with hers. Carlo was still in the doorway; he was staring at them:
“Carlo, let’s go. I can tell you later!”
He dragged him out of the room. Chiara was laying still on the bed.
That guy was her boyfriend. Why she remembered only her headquarter? Everybody was speaking a dialect different from hers. Her head was confused… she just remembered she had returned to her HQ, and nothing else.
“Ale, what’s up? What does it mean that you’re her boyfriend?”
“It was the nurse. She misunderstood and told Chiara that I am. The doctor suggests she need calm, so I adapted. You’ll have to help me!”
He had decided on impulse. He could keep her at his side. It was the best solution at the time. The brown case she had been looking for now seemed to burn in his pocket.
“How are you going with her boss? Or her parents? Ale, I don’t think that is the ideal solution!”
“I’m fixing it somehow. Meantime, let’s talk to the doctor, okay?”
“Aren’t you calling anyone of her family?” Alessandro thought back to what he knew of her. He shook his head:
“Be quiet, Carlo. I’ll think about it.”
“So, gentlemen, your colleague was lucky. She was very close to the point of the explosion, but she reported, in addition to bruises, only a head injury. She will be sore for the next few days. At present, she has a mental block. It’s a momentary state. It could be resolved in a few hours or a few days. Probably, a small hematoma or a posttraumatic affects her. For now, you should better not scare her. What you are asked to is to go along with her wishes in order to bring back her memories!” the doctor said.
Alessandro turned to Carlo. His eyes narrowed. He would have liked to go back and change things. But he couldn’t. There was no alternative. He was playing hard. He couldn’t give up, not now, not yet. He had to be able to close the game.
He was not up to alert Chiara’s family. As he walked into the room, he stopped, pulling out the case to observe the photos. He clenched his fingers and gritted his teeth. He had a twinkle in his eyes; turning the photo: the message was clear. It was in italian, but he also could read between the lines. He had to hurry. He had to act and close everything. He went into the bathroom, resting his forehead to the cold mirror, and inhaled slowly.
Then he tried to smile; he entered Chiara’s room.
“I want to go out!”
“Chiara…” He stopped, as she stared at him with her green eyes.
“How can we be engaged? I don’t get engaged with colleagues. And this is not my ro
om. What am I doing here?”
Alessandro sat on the bed, plunging the mattress. He brushed her head and touched the wounds on her face. That light caress brought her shivers; her eyes opened wide. Her breathing changed; her eyes take on a different shade.
Chiara was upset. Something smelled fishy. She would never have engaged to a colleague. Sure she couldn’t forget it! Yet, his lips had awakened fiery feelings. She had felt a languor invading her, inflaming her, making her tremble. Her heart had accelerated the beating: she knew those lips. But how and why?
“We are not engaged! We’re… dating, I would say!” Without thinking, with his hand, he kept moving on her arm and then on her neck; a warm vibration spread out from her skin along his own arm. Instinctively, he leaned toward her, touching her lips with his. Why? Maybe he was trying to make his story credible. Actually, he simply wanted to take advantage of her lack of memory. Now, he partially could drop his mask.
He didn’t have to look away from her. He could grasp all that came without fear of consequences.
“Why am I…?” He shook his head, watching a nurse coming in the room. He put two fingers on her lips:
“Get some rest. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Did you call my sister? My mother?”
Alessandro inhaled. Damn. It was true. She just forgot the last days.
“I will. What do you want me to tell?”
“Nothing. Don’t say anything. It’s worthless. The doctor told me that I’ll have my memories back in a few days!”
Alessandro nodded and thought: “In a few days, maybe it’s all over, I hope.”
But now, destiny was giving a special occasion to him. He wanted to take advantage of it to the end.
Chiara entered the hotel room, looking around: all was looking so strange. She had spoken with Torres, she had spoken with Carlo, with Alessandro, but all those conversations had moved no bell in her memory. It was still all black. She closed her eyes and walked over to the computer. Alessandro approached:
“Not now, Chiara, not now. Now, you go to the bed and rest. You’ve signed up to go out, but you need rest. Did you hear the doctor, didn’t you? Your computer will not run away!”
She stared at him, with her beautiful green eyes:
“Where are you going?”
“I have to go to the headquarter. We almost certainly suspend the meeting. There will be a mess!”
“Just fine! But…” He was already on the threshold. He turned off her computer and her phone and he pulled the curtains. Then he stopped with his hand on the handle:
“Tell me!”
“Are you coming back?”
He swallowed. Was he? He had to and he wanted. It was as if she was a mermaid what made him lose his head and his heart. He shouldn’t have. Indeed, he should have token advantage of that, to make her send home and accomplish what he set for himself. On the other hand, he found himself nodding and retracing his steps to get closer to her. He stared into her eyes and kissed her. Their flavours mingled: Chiara’s hand pulling slip down on his shoulders. He pulled her closer. His hand touched her face, her neck, and then her cleavage.
“I’ll be back as soon as possible. Have some rest. Okay?”
Once he came out, he greeted the sentry:
“I’m going. You can find me at the HQ, okay?”
“Sure, detective!”
Torres had requested surveillance for her. Alessandro agreed. It was good. She probably found something. The suicide bomber had not made a killing because she, despite not being able to talk to the guard, had brought out many people and put the safety managers in alert. She had avoided a massacre.
But this could mean just one thing: she knew something.
Chapter 32
Alessandro was doubly worried. What did she find? What and how much did she know? Maybe enough to get him into trouble. He felt so. He had definitely to put an end to that affair. Once he came into the headquarter, he saw the mess he was expecting to see: people were talking at the same time, running back and forth, Torres was shouting orders to everybody, detainees, wounded… He grew apart, looking for somewhat to start from. He stared at Torres and approached him:
“Boss!”
He stared at him: Torres looked relieved when Alessandro took control of the situation and started to coordinate the reports and the patrol cars. Then, they moved toward the interrogation room.
Carlo was on the doorway. He was waiting for him:
“You’re finally arrived. Shall we go in?” Alessandro nodded. He had not time to see the detainees. He felt his heart pounding.
As he opened the door, he felt the tension biting his stomach. Once he entered, he stood for a moment. He stared at the two detainees. He didn’t know them. He stared at Carlo. He took a few seconds and then he stepped in.
The interrogation was relentless, determined, hard. Carlo and he alternated in questioning. The public defender was not able to stem the fire of the two policemen. The rooms around were silent when they came out. They looked around: nobody was there. The shift was changed. The journalists had dispersed.
A semblance of normality permeated the air. Alessandro turned to Carlo. They were sweaty, tired.
“They are guilty of the death of Claudia, Ale, and many more too, today. I hope they are going to pay. I hope to capture and arrest personally all those who are part of this organization, damn! And even those who helped them!”
He didn’t notice that Alessandro was pale. He was too taken by the heat of speaking. He didn’t see him tighten his fists. Alessandro turned his eyes toward the window.
He left the thoughts soar: only two years before, he wouldn’t have thought that he could get embroiled in such a situation. Only two years before, he would never had any doubts. He would have never do what he was doing. He turned his gaze to Carlo. If only he knew…
Even now, the catch of the two men could create some problems to him, damn! Carlo was talking to him.
“Sorry, Carlo. I’m dead tired. I wasn’t listening!”
“I said that I would like to know how do you deal with Chiara!”
He breathed. It would be better if he continued to not listen him.
“I’ll do what I have to, Carlo. I’ll protect her. I’ll stay with her.”
Carlo lost all trace of laughter. He stared at him, with a penetrating gaze. He put a hand on his arm.
“What’s going on, Ale? You look different. Now… this… what’s up? I mean… really.”
Alessandro shook his head: “Nothing, Carlo, nothing… maybe... I like Chiara!”
Carlo stared at him and smiled:
“Oh, that’s it? Do you like Chiara? Your icy heart is melting, isn’t it?” A brief moment of hilarity, before a shadow appeared in his gaze: it wasn’t difficult to realize that Carlo was thinking about Claudia. Alessandro was too. He couldn’t stop thinking to the price he was paying for the whole story.
“Carlo, not now.” His voice had to be extremely sharp. Carlo gave a start.
“What’s happening, Ale? Actually I don’t understand. I can’t feel with you anymore. You changed. What’s the story here?”
“There is no story, Carlo. Maybe, I’m just under pressure. I’ll get better as soon as we solve this case!”
Carlo shrugged and whispered: “I hope so”.
Alessandro went to the hotel, after he had talked to the sentry. There had been a change. He had gone home, he had token a duffel bag. He wasn’t leaving Chiara’s room until she was finally better. He wanted to keep an eye on her. Or least, that was what he told to himself.
He entered quietly, step by step in the dark room. He stood a moment and watched her lying in her bed. The sheet was twisted to her leg; she was half naked. Bruises marked her pale face. Her eyes were closed. She was breathing lightly. Her hair was scattered on the pillow: she looked like an angel fallen from Heaven. He put the bag to a chair. He watched at the computer: it was still off. He closed his eyes for a moment. He walked up to her and touched
her forehead with a kiss. Then, slowly, he went to the bathroom. He needed a shower. He could still feel the scent of smoke, ash, blood and anger on his own skin. He opened the shower, observing the tub. Suddenly, he imagined Chiara and him wrapped by a thousand bubbles, illuminated by the soft light of candles: music in the background, their bodies touching each other… He opened the ice-cold water, throwing himself under the tap. Then he grabbed the soap and wrinkled his nose: it smelled of peach. Never mind. He had forgot his bath foam. He was going to buy it tomorrow. He was lathering himself up when he saw a shadow approaching: his eyes widened recognizing her.
She was barefoot, with just a shirt. She had long slender legs tanned. She had eyes full of sleep. She was advancing decided. He stood there, wondering what she was doing. Was she up to stop?
He grabbed the shower handle and lowered the water jet:
“Chiara!”
She stared into his eyes:
“I heard the sound of shower.”
“I’m sorry I woke you up… I’m almost done!”
She looked down. He stared at her from head to foot; it was a slow, penetrating look. His body was reacting. His gaze lingered on her legs and came back on her face. Alessandro did not frequently feel embarrassed. He gave her a decisive look and tilted his head to the left:
“What’s up, Chiara? Do I dazzle you?”
She bit her lips. She just lowered her eyes, watching his manliness; then she looked up:
“No, but I need a shower too.”
He paused a moment before moving:
“There is enough space if you want to join me. Or maybe you prefer waiting. I’m almost done!”
He stood still waiting for her reaction. It wasn’t the right choice. He would have to suggest her to get out of the bathroom, go back to bed: he should have been leaving, going home; he wasn’t supposed to invite her to join.
UNDER THE CLOAK Page 14