She clenched her fists, while a furtive tear went down her face. She drove it, angry. She didn’t want to cry, not for him. She would have come to her conclusions. Once she returned at her room, she would have studied the last part. She had also an idea of where the terrorists were. Perhaps, she could have them arrested in a few.
She grabbed the phone, connecting to the Internet and working on the email Marco had sent to her. She was so absorbed she didn’t realize that the door was open. Tom was next to her. She stared at him:
“Good evening!”
“Good evening!” She answered, seriously. He stared at her, intently. He was different from Alessandro, yet similar. With him, there was no thrill, no heartbeat. He stood at her side, lightning a cigarette. He fooled her:
“I’m sorry I interrupted you, but you were done, I think, weren’t you?”
Chiara whirled carefully, observing his face. The lighter illuminated it:
“Don’t worry. You’re not a disturb.” She clenched her jaw, turning her back. She observed the door. Alessandro wasn’t in sight. She frowned, walking towards the door. The night had fallen; all was shadow, barely softened by the stars. Chiara stopped in the doorway. Alessandro stood still, with a glass in hand and his eyes closed. Chiara was in a religious silence.
Alessandro stood still, after the verbal confrontation with his brother: he was broken. He had a duty and a soul too. He was torn between love, duty, truth, and lies. It was a delicate scrape that made him turn abruptly to the door:
“Do you mind if we stop and eat something on the road? I want to go!”
His gaze was off and empty. He wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t touched. Once they got in the car, he turned to her:
“Chiara, wait. Please, wait to send the report!”
She stared into his eyes, shaking her head:
“Ale… I can’t promise, but I’ll see what I can do.” She gave in, again, calling herself stupid. He sighed of relief. He was looking for her, but she moved her leg:
“You didn’t need to coax me, you know?”
He clenched his jaw. He replied, piqued:
“You’re right!” He returned his gaze to the road.
“Sometimes, we just have to trust our instincts, Chiara!”
He stared at him, out of the car. Her body was still sore. She looked down:
“Good night. Tomorrow will be a long day!”
She was almost inside the hotel when he called her back:
“Please, Chiara, wait for me, tomorrow, okay? I’ll take you to the headquarter!”
She didn’t answer. She just greeted him waving her hand. She didn’t want to say yes or not.
Chapter 44
At 5:00 a.m., she was still studying the papers, but then, she was associating calls, printouts and shifts, she shook her head: Alessandro was in it up to his neck. She realized that they were preparing another attack, comparing the documents taken in the house with Jamal’s photos and Alessandro’s documents. She realized that she couldn’t waste her time.
She looked at the clock: it was 6:00 a.m. She sent a text to Spisni, to Ruggeri and Torres and organized a quick and urgent videoconference.
While she sent the report, recalling the events to her mind, she felt her heart torn. Alessandro was doomed. Although, she still hoped he had a reason. Her chest was caught in a grip. She felt the tension bit her stomach.
Alessandro had set the alarm clock at 6:00 a.m. He wanted to go to her, talk to her, ask for her to take time. Perhaps, he could explain what was going on. He opened his eyes. He was tired. His leg was hurting. He had a headache. He walked to the bathroom. The home phone was blinking. He pushed the button on his answering machine:
“Detective, we need to talk. Call me as you listen to this message!” It was Torres. A shiver ran through him. He grabbed the phone: there were two calls from Torres. He turned on the television. Maybe something had happened, but there weren’t extraordinary news. He dressed up. Before calling Torres, he wanted to know if Chiara had already made her report. He had to prepare a defence and figure out what he could say.
He couldn’t rely on his superior. He had been silent about the latest reports. They trusted him no more. He had played with fire and he had burned; it was clear. He realized he was worrying more than he expected when, on three occasions, the keys he was holding slid to the ground.
He drove like a robot to Chiara’s hotel. His phone was turned off and resting on the seat. He could always say he had flat battery. He had to know. He got out from the car, heading for the door of the hotel.
He approached to the reception desk. The receptionist smiled:
“Welcome back!”
“Thank you, Sabrina!” He read her name pinned on the jacket. He smiled:
“Can you call me Detective Pilati? Tell her that I’m there and I need to talk.”
He stood still, while she lifted the handset. Nothing. He stared at her, while she tried again:
“There’s no answer. Maybe she is sleeping. Wait a minute!”
She moved to her colleague. The tension within him was high. She came back:
“She came down to breakfast. My colleague says she is around here!”
Alessandro nodded and observed the room, the frescoed ceilings, and the bustle of men with briefcases. He couldn’t see her. Then he saw her. She was leaning against the table, intent on writing on her tablet. He caught up with a few strided:
“Hi.”
She winced and turned around. Her look was guilty. She looked up:
“Hi. What are you doing here now?” She saw his eyes. He had already been warned. She breathed. She imagined, but she though that she had more time to deal with him. She moved her legs. She was nervously.
He stared at her, worried:
“Chiara, what is happened? I thought you… decided to wait!”
“Excuse me? From what? I said I was trying.”
She raised an eyebrow:
“Love with you was wonderful, Ale, really. But there is more: there’s my job. This case. People have died. Others are dying. I couldn’t lose any time, no more, not even for you!”
Alessandro clenched his jaw; his teeth hurt. He was pale; he stared at her.
She moved towards the exit. She was certain that he would not let her go. In fact, he joined her:
“Chiara, love… you said love! Was it… love for you? Then why now you have trodden me? You had no right to…”
“To do what? I have a duty! You wear a uniform, as I do. My duties are to the State and to the people I defend!”
He grabbed her arm, twisting her to him:
“What did you say? To whom?”
“I said what I knew to Torres, to my bosses…”
“Did you talk about me?” He read the answer in her eyes. He let her go, swearing. Chiara ran a hand through her hair. She was nervous. She turned to him, who asked:
“You must have something new if you need to hurry. What is that?”
“I know where is Jamal. I know they are preparing an attack. You’re inside!”
Alessandro stared at her; he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. His eyes were full of a blind fury and flames.
“Did you write in the report, Chiara?”
She stared at him; all her confidence, all her hopes were blowing up. He was terrified and furious. He was corrupt… it was the only explanation. For a moment, she had fear, before realizing with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t have done anything bad to her, despite the furious anger that resounded in his voice:
“Fuck, Chiara, answer me!” He screamed. She closed her eyes:
“Yes, I did.” A whisper; a damn whisper that was changing his life.
“I organized a raid with Torres; they are breaking in these moments.”
Alessandro dropped her instantly. He was pale as a ghost. He turned, rushing toward the car, muttering curses. She followed him. He started the car. She got into hers and followed him a short distance despite he was driving very
fast.
Chiara followed him a short distance. He slammed the car in front of the den; many policemen were there. There were some wounded. Apparently, there had been a fire-fight. Alessandro jumped out of the car. He ran quickly inside. She followed him. He bent over a guy. She had to get closer to recognize him: it was Jamal!
Alessandro was bending over him:
“Where is it? Where the fuck is it?” He shrugged him, keeping him raised:
Jamal was staring into his eyes.
“I am dying, bull, but she dies with me!”
Alessandro was dead white:
“Jamal!” Chiara saw the guy’s eyes become glassy. Alessandro was on his knees, his hands still holding Jamal’s shirt.
What was going on? Who Alessandro was speaking about? He turned to her. In his eyes there was an unexpected fury. He jumped and he stopped in front of her:
“You don’t know what you did!” He ran a trembling hand through his hair.
She held his gaze:
“No, I don’t, but help me to find out! Talk to me!”
He stared into her eyes. His eyes were full of storm and lightning, of stormy sea. He saw a group of kids who were going on the van. He ran toward them, followed closely by her:
“Where is Francesca? You… where are the others? You, with glasses, where is Francesca?”
Kids stared dumb at him. Their looks were indomitable. He grabbed one of them. If Chiara had not intervened, he would have pulled him out of the van.
“Stop, Ale, what happens?”
He ignored her, walking back and forth, with his hands through his hair. Torres approached him. He clenched his jaw. He stared angrily at Chiara:
“Detective! You owe me an explanation!”
Alessandro’s gaze was slipping on white sheet that covered the body of Jamal. A droplet of sweat went down his forehead. Chiara’s eyes turned towards him and Torres. She decided to follow her instincts. She came between them, admonishing Torres:
“We can talk to headquarter. What about that? Here is full of journalists!” He nodded. She turned her gaze to Alessandro. He waited a few moments before pushing her back to the van, away from prying eyes and ears. She found herself with her back against the van. He was in front of her. Their bodies were touching. He put both hands next to her face. He had the palms open the van.
“I can’t come to the headquarter!”
Chiara’s eyes narrowed. She grabbed his wrist:
“What does it mean, Ale? Tell me what is going on! Is there anyone above Jamal? Is there a boss?”
He shook his head. He swallowed, watching her ethereal fingers against his tanned wrist. Black and white, yin and yang… again and again.
“Chiara, I can’t…”
She narrowed her eyes, letting go his hand. She put both hands on his chest, pushing him forcefully:
“You cant? You don’t want! Go to hell, Alessandro. Then you’ll come to headquarter and we’ll have an interrogation. Is that what you want? This you’ll have!” She was furious. He surprised, stepping again, raising his arms:
“What do you know? They were preparing an attack… where? Some children are missing, as is the equipment!”
Chiara thought, trying to make a mental and remember:
“Ale, you’re telling me that you think they already put a bomb?”
He continued to wander around in circles; then he stopped:
“Yes. Maybe, or no, damn, I don’t know. I think so. Tell me if you have any idea!”
“Jamal didn’t tell you?”
Silence. The cars were spreading, even the van behind they was moving. Torres got into his car. Carlo, Amina and two other interpreters were speaking to some guys. He closed his eyes:
“I ask you. Jamal didn’t tell you?” He turned like a hyena:
“No, he didn’t. Or I wouldn’t be asking you!”
“I have no idea, Ale. We must interrogate the kids!”
He shook his head:
“They won’t talk. They won’t talk to anyone.” He slammed violently his fist against the van, startling Chiara.
She was tempted to approach him, but he exuded so much anger, so much force he was scaring her. She felt her heart thumping in her ears. Her hands were tingle.
“Ale, explain!”
“You find the data to arrest them today in this warehouse. Where?”
“Where?” He repeated louder; then he watched her eyes, her hands, and her body pose. He breathed deeply:
“Sorry, Chiara, it’s important. You got where they were today by those documents?”
“Yes. Who is Francesca?” He gave no sign that he heard her.
“Give me the documents!”
She didn’t move by an inch:
“What about you? How did you know about this place?”
“I know it. I had found it out days ago!”
Chiara pulled out the phone from her jacket. She turned it to Alessandro:
“Here. These are the only other information that I couldn’t connected!”
He tried to take it, but she pulled her arm back, showing him not to give up cell. He came up, observing it, scrolling the words, phrases, shaking his head.
“Ale, come to headquarter!”
He put a hand on her shoulder. He clenched his jaw, as he read the last word:
“I know where the others are!”
Chiara’s eyes darted toward him.
“Ale, you don’t make things easy!” She turned. Now they were alone. The guys from the forensic squad were collecting evidences. Chiara had already seen the text she had been sent; it was about Alessandro.
He approached her, staring into her eyes, and lifted her chin with two fingers:
“Trust me. Believe me one last time. Then, I swear I’ll explain everything!”
He stroked her lips with his thumb. He quivered.
Chiara pierced with a look into his soul as if she wanted to to dig into him, weighing his words. She dodged his touch:
“How far is this place you want to reach?”
“Twenty minutes.
“If… I say if… If I believe you, I’d better call for reinforcements. They’ll help us.”
Chapter 45
Chiara felt trapped, torn, torn between duty and desire. She didn’t know what to do. She was afraid she could take the wrong decision. Could she trust him? She wanted, she wanted desperately to believe. She wanted to prove that he wasn’t corrupt. That he was good, he was hers. He stood still, stopped in front of her. He had lowered his hands. He had not even touched her. He took a step back, leaving her more space, and stared at her:
“Please…”
“Okay. Let’s go.” She pointed her car. He turned to his one:
“No, Ale, let’s use mine!” They walked side by side. She went up to the guide, watching him:
“Give me the directions!”
“You don’t trust me!”
She didn’t even turn, hissing:
“I don’t think that you’ve given me many opportunities to trust you. Did you?”
He just looked out of the window, giving her the directions. The tension was so thick you could touch it. Both were lost in their own thoughts:
“Pull over!”
Chiara looked around. A police car was reaching them. Alessandro got out from the car. He looked around. Chiara watched him… he was afraid. Why?
“They must be here. Here are the latest diplomatic representatives. This says the inscription in Arabic at the bottom of the document!”
Chiara nodded:
“Who should be there? Ale, what is going on?”
She was stroking his arm. His skin was frozen. He was running towards the entrance, while other cops reached him. Chiara was risking, giving him confidence. She was putting herself in the game. She was risking her career, even her life. She heard just silence… maybe he was right. She looked around. There was no guard at the entrance. She felt a long shiver and looked at Alessandro; he must have noticed the same thing. They sta
rt running.
Torres had arrived. Carlo ran behind them. Chiara turned blocking Carlo with one hand:
“Is he corrupt? Really?
Alessandro didn’t give Carlo a glance. He opened the glass door, entering in a fury in the hall:
“Carlo, I don’t know, but…”
Carlo stared at her:
“But what? What? Do you let him go in there? And what if he shoots you? What if he is one of them?” He faced her, as she observed Alessandro. He was struggling with a barred door. She faced Carlo head on:
“Carlo, I don’t believe it. I don’t think that he is corrupt. Despite of everything, I don’t. Now let me go!”
She shook off his hand.
A quick glance confirmed her that some guys had barricaded themselves with some diplomats. From a window, she saw the men on the ground, some armed boys and three kids in the middle. Alessandro was pale as death, leaning against the glass. She came to his side.
“Ale, tell me what is going on. How can I help you if you keep me out?” He leaned his forehead against the glass, watching the boys:
“I have to go!”
Chiara shook her head. It was impossible. No one could enter. He knocked at the door and got away from her. She heard the click of the door being open. She looked at it. Again, she felt her doubts. Every confidence had collapsed. Why did the boy let him come right away?
Alessandro opened the door. He looked at Chiara and all the others. He could imagine what they thought. He could read suspicion in their eyes, the doubt in Chiara’s eyes. How much he wanted to be able to dissipate it. He shook his head, entering, but he left the door ajar on purpose, giving her one last look. She nodded. She got in behind him.
“Guys, let the hostages go. It’s over. We have arrested your bosses.”
He spoke firmly, but his gaze was on a young girl. Some of the diplomats were standing. Alessandro was looking the room, then back at her:
“Guys, come on. Do you really want to die for men you barely know? For a cause you don’t even understand? How old are you? Sixteen? Twenty? Do you want to fight for an ideal? Dying for an ideal right now?”
Chiara observed him, his movements, and his words. Who was that girl? Another guy answered.
UNDER THE CLOAK Page 21