“We fight for freedom!”
“Which freedom? Whose? Why you should die, and not your leaders, if they think this is the right way?”
Chiara was shaking her head; she whispered:
“Ale, let’s call a mediator!” He didn’t seem to hear or at least he pretended he didn’t:
“Let go of the hostages: your parents, your relatives, are waiting. You can fight for many things in another way!”
The three boys looked at each other. Two men with machine guns were holding everyone at gunpoint. They had tough and decisive looks, different from other kids. They just looked frightened and scared.
Chiara approached them. Carlo led the hostages out by a side door, while Alessandro kept their attention on him. Alessandro couldn’t have failed to notice that. Chiara realized it when he moved to attract all eyes on him. He was on the opposite side of the hostages. He was risking. The guys had pointed their weapons at him.
He stood still, feeling the presence of Chiara behind him. She advanced. He felt the warmth of her body. He could feel her breath. He closed his eyes. Hell, was that possible? He could feel the beat of her heart even at that distance? He wanted to turn around. He wanted to see her face, read in her eyes and know what she was thinking.
He took a step forward. One of the boys stared at him. He looked down. He returned his attention to the girl in the middle. She had not uttered a word.
She remained impenetrable, while he saw that colleagues capturing two of the three armed men; the third one realised there was no hope. He surrendered. Two kids were standing. The third one was crying. He had raised their hands. Chiara moved to Alessandro, joining him. He stared at her, and then he looked at the girl. Her eyes were full of doubts and terror. Chiara’s gaze narrowed. Who was that girl? Why everyone was staring at her in terror?
Alessandro froze, like a deer in the headlights of a car:
“Franci!”
The girl was in front of them. Chiara walked to reach, but he stopped her:
“Wait!” It was then that Chiara saw the padded jacket. TNT? C4? A dirty bomb? She swore, observing Alessandro taking off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves:
“Franci, look at me!” The girl stared at him:
“Go away!”
The hand was on the button. Everything around her was in silence. Everyone was frozen:
“Franci, Jamal is dead.”
“No! No, it isn’t true!”
“Franci, we can fix this situation. You can’t really think that dying for him is the right thing!”
“No, no, go away. Go away all!” Her hand trembled on the button. Chiara stood still, icy. If she had pressed the button, they all would all die.
The other boy, who was close to her, yelled:
“Press the button, Franci. Press it! Go, you can do it. Press it!” He yelled.
While he yelled, the few people left went in panic. Alessandro was sweating. She approached him behind, touching his back with her hand.
He felt the warmth of her wrap. He inspired:
“Franci, don’t listen to him. You don’t want to die for a cause you don’t even know what exactly is. You can’t want to die for one that you have known for a year; he had no thought for you, he never tried to save you. This isn’t love.”
The other boy continued to scream, but Chiara wasn’t sure enough to get closer. Alessandro turned:
“Shut up!”
He opened his eyes, and then he took a step toward them. Chiara raised her gun and pointed it to him:
“Stop!” It was the first time she intervened. He breathed, while she was keeping at bay the boy with the gun. Suddenly, it was all silence around them. There was no noise, only their breaths and the sobs of the girl.
Chiara looked at Alessandro; he looked tense. He was beaded with sweat. His hands were clenched. He inhaled sharply:
“Francesca, look at me. Look into my eyes. Put the button down, okay?”
The girl was shaking violently, her face covered with tears:
“I can’t.”
Alessandro took a step forward:
“Why you can’t?” The fingers on the button were trembling. Chiara stood still and whispered:
“Ale, be careful!” He whirled toward her and nodded. Flames burned in his eyes.
“Thanks.” He mouthed, and then he brought his attention back to the girl. She stroked the remote control with her hand. Her voice was low. The steady hand of Chiara, who was holding the gun, had silenced every warning from the other kid.
“Franci, please, listen to me. Jamal has died. The other kids have been arrested. You can put a lid on this story. You still have many things to see and discover. The world waits for you: you can go out and find it. Lower your hand. Put the control down. What do you say?”
He held his breath, as she moved her hand… she leaned to the ground the remote control:
“Good girl.” He advanced, hearing Chiara hold her breath. He made a sign to the bomb squad, which waited, without a move.
Alessandro dropped the girl’s jacket, guided by the instructions from the bomb squad, which he had asked not to approach. When he had put it off, he passed it to them. He turned to the little girl, spreading his arms; she collapsed against him, sobbing. Alessandro hesitated a moment, then stroked her head pressing it against his chest.
“It’s over, honey. It’s all over, okay?”
Chiara was standing behind them. She was still dazed, still confused. He raised his eyes, looking at her for a moment. She looked down as he wrapped the girl in a blanket and lifted her. She beside him:
“Now, you have to explain.”
Alessandro nodded; yes. He had to.
Chapter 46
Torres and Carlo were just outside the door. Carlo flung himself on Alessandro, as soon as he had deposited the girl on a stretcher. Carlo slammed him against the wall, laying an arm on his throat; Alessandro was purple. Chiara grabbed his arm, with all the strength she had:
“Carlo! Goodness, you kill him!”
Carlo was completely out of control:
“You bastard! You killed Claudia! You’ve spied us! You sold us!”
Alessandro had followed the girl with his eyes, until she was into the ambulance. He didn’t react now. Chiara tried again to stop Carlo:
“You can’t kill him! Carlo, stop it!” She clung to his arm again. Carlo shook her, such furious he almost throw her to the ground. Alessandro looked up, reacting, and wriggled out from Carlo’s grip, though it was a weak reaction.
It was Torres, with his booming voice, which stopped Carlo:
“Barbieri, it’s enough!” Carlo took him a few moments before letting him go. Alessandro didn’t move; he just leaned against the wall, coughing furiously, gasping for breath. He bowed, placing his hands on his knees. Then he looked up, looking for her.
Chiara swallowed, trying to grab him, then she stopped. She touched the gun: the cold metal under her fingers made her feel at home. Luigi grabbed Alessandro: he was rude, but less angry then Carlo.
“Let’s go to the headquarter!”
Alessandro nodded silently. He got into the patrol car, looking up to heaven. He saw Chiara and the others following with their car. He leaned against the seat with his eyes closed, breathing.
Once they arrived to the headquarter, Torres faced him:
“We’ve irrefutable evidence of your ties with terrorists. Your supervisors are coming. Do you want to tell to us something in the meantime?” Alessandro looked up, watching at Torres:
“I was working undercover. I’m not a corrupt, even though the evidence nails me!” He was looking for Chiara. Where she was? Why she wasn’t here? Sitting in the interrogation room, he wondered if she was on the other side of the glass, if Carlo was with her. He wondered where was Francesca, how was she.
Torres looked at him:
“I believe you. I don’t know why, but I do. Give us an explanation.”
Carlo, out of the room, slammed his fist against the g
lass:
“He believes him? Are they kidding?”
Chiara looked at him, laying a hand on his arm:
“Carlo, you’re upset. You’re losing control. Why don’t you get a coffee? Amina is there.”
He was leaving the room. She knocked at the door. Alessandro saw her: a flash of relief appeared in his eyes:
“I don’t understand. Is this an interrogation?”
“No, Ale. It’s not. But I want an explanation. It’s my sacred right. Don’t you think?”
He watched her. She looked back at him, and then she turned to Torres:
“Do you mind leaving us alone?” Torres nodded and got out of the room.
She stood still in front of him. Then she put both hands to the table, leaning toward him:
“Now.” He stared at her, his lips parted:
“Now?”
“Don’t be dumb, now. You owe me an explanation! Who is Francesca? Which side are you?”
She bit her lips. Damn. She was acting like Mia, her twin. She closed her eyes. The tension was at its peak. She breathed; Alessandro was staring into her eyes:
“I was always on your side!”
“It’s hard to believe, very hard!”
He looked at her neck, at her breasts; Chiara felt her nipples swelling up under his gaze. He returned his attention to her face:
“It is.”
They stopped, hearing a knock at the door.
Carlo appeared.
“Excuse me. A call from the hospital, someone’s asking for Alessandro!”
Chiara turned to the door. She grabbed the phone:
“Hello? Yes. Ok. Just a moment.” She covered the microphone with her hand and said:
“Ale, come on. Tell me who is Francesca!”
He stared at her, and then he sighed:
“She is my niece. She is the daughter of my brother, Tom.”
Chiara remained impenetrable, turned her back to him. She answered to the phone:
“Ok, here we come.”
“What happened, Chiara? What happened to Francesca?”
The true and vibrant concern in his voice made her falter:
“She is fine, but she needs you. Come with me!” She opened the door, under the amazed gaze of Carlo and Torres, who were out of the room.
“We’re going to the hospital. Will you come with us?”
Once they arrived at the car, Chiara stopped:
“Go up on the other, please!” Torres watched perplexed. She approached him:
“Trust me.”
She kept looking at him, standing still, when she started the engine. She fell silent, turning the radio off. The click echoed in the silence. He stared at her, without a word.
“Ok. We’re alone. You owe me a reason, Ale. A real and clear one.”
He stood with his eyes on the road:
“Francesca is my niece!”
“Ok. You told me… what else?”
He was so handsome, she thought. He breathed slowly. He gave off heat, anger, passion, fear. Chiara waited a few moments, and then she repeated:
“What else?”
“It’s complicated, Chiara!”
“I guess so. But I’m used to solve complicated things. Who was Jamal for her and for you?”
“I have been asked to investigate about terrorists a year and a half ago. I reached Mestre, then… I knew nothing about Jamal. I knew just some excerpt from the secret services.”
His voice was flat. His hand was still. Chiara looked at him. He was touching her. Her skin seemed to catch on fire:
“Chiara…” he whispered. She stared into his eyes, drowning in them:
“Ok. I’ll regret it. I know.” She stared at the mirror: Torres and Carlo were distant. She accelerated, zigzagging, up to put at least four cars between them, taking the road that led to the back of the hospital. She parked in the underground parking. She was aware that Carlo and Torres had lost sight of them.
“Speak!” She went down from the car. He went down too. He stopped in front of her, pressing her against the car. The air was full of tension.
“Jamal was Francesca’s boyfriend. He was the boyfriend of many more girls… all the girls he had took in, taking advantage from their family diseases.”
“And?”
“I was blackmailed. I never, and I mean never, betrayed!”
He touched her face, but she dodged the blow:
“Don’t touch me!”
His fingers closed in a fist and he moved away:
“I gave useless information, true but useless. I tried to keep him at bay and to convince Francesca to leave the group. Tom, my brother, her father, bombarded me by calls!”
“Why didn’t you tell to your supervisors?”
He stared into her eyes; just a couple inches separated their mouths. His breath stirred with hers:
“I realized that Jamal had other informants. Someone else passed data. There was someone colluded among us, someone at the top, for example. I didn’t say anything about the new location. But they knew… at that point, I realized that I could no longer trust anyone. I was alone. And, anyway, what they would have done? They would have outset me from the case. And Francesca today… maybe today she would have pressed that button. Damn, Chiara. She is sixteen!”
He whirled out, leaning with his arms in a column, his head bent down. She nodded, even thought he couldn’t see:
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Do you want the brutal truth? I didn’t know if I could trust of you.”
She winced, as she had been stabbed. She closed her eyes. She looked at him; her eyes became stormy. She clenched her fists, hissing:
“Well, you are sincere, aren’t you? Good for sex, but no more?”
“I didn’t say that. I never thought it. But did you trust me? No, not at all at least. You can’t blame me even if I didn’t trust you. I thought a thousand times to tell you something, to give you a choice.” He was raised. He had approached her:
“He was holding me in his hand, Chiara. Francesca, like all those kids, wouldn’t listen me. She wouldn’t listen any reason. I couldn’t pull her out of the group. I couldn’t afford to stop them, not until he had control over her, over her mind, not until I had no idea who had betrayed. If he had known that I was going to arrest him… can you figure out what could have happened?
“Did he recognized you in the alley, right? What’s in the case he gave you?”
He stared at her. He frozen, hearing some noise, then he sighed with relief. Nothing had moved:
“Yes, he did. He wanted news. He wanted to push me to talk; he told me Francesca was deeply involved in his plan. Those in the case were photos of my niece. She was preparing bombs. He gave me a list of the data he wanted!”
Chiara gulped, touching his face, his hot skin:
“Ale…”
He grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers.
“I’m not a traitor. I am not responsible for Claudia’s death. I had no idea of the bomb. I was trapped, but Francesca is my family, my niece, my flesh and my blood.”
Chiara felt her heart beat furiously. With lowered eyelids, she held her breath, watching at him:
“Damn, Ale. Do you know this is a mess? Now it’s all a mess!”
“I know!” He ran a hand through his hair. He was nervous. He looked into her eyes. Without saying word, he grabbed her chin. He was capturing her lips in a stunning, intense kiss without giving her the time to breathe, to think. It was a kiss full of agony, fear, anger, and relief. He touched her back. As soon as he touched her lips, he had felt free from all fear, from every thought. Her hot mouth was his refuge. It was the cup from which he wanted and needed to quench thirst. It was the key to his future, to his present.
The passion flared up between them, with flames as high as the sky, hot as a fire. Chiara closed her eyes, tasting every moment of that kiss, and then she pulled away, slowly:
“You’ll have to answer to your supervisors. You’ll be submit
ted to a disciplinary action. Do you know who the bosses are? Jamal took orders from someone else. It’s from him he got information!”
“It was what I wanted to find out before intervening.”
He ran a nervous hand through his hair. Chiara looked around, sighing:
“Ale, we have to go. Torres and Carlo will already be looking for us.”
“I know. Let’s go.”
Alessandro tried to touch her, but she dodged. He nodded. He could understand her. She was also exposed too much for him.
Chapter 47
Once they had arrived at the hospital, Carlo stared at them:
“Where the hell were you were?”
“We were in the parking. Why?” Chiara ignored his puzzled gaze. She felt Alessandro quiver beside her. He approached the bed where Francesca was:
“Franci!”
“Uncle!” Her face was covered with tears. She trembled.
He opened his arms. She hugged him. Chiara’s eyes narrowed. She wanted a hug, at that time. She was confused. She didn’t know if she had to believe him, though she wanted to. It wasn’t over, not yet. She couldn’t keep quiet. She saw the sweetness Alessandro’s eyes. His fingers lifted the girl’s chin; they wiped her tears:
“Franci, tell me. Tell me what happened. Tell me what you know, please.”
“I know nothing, uncle. I know nothing!”
Carlo had his fists clenched. He was muttering:
“The hell she doesn’t. She knows something. I want to…”
“You don’t want anything, Carlo. Okay?” Chiara warned him with an icy look.
“You’ve made duped by him! Detective, did you make sex to him?” Chiara froze, turning abruptly toward him. Torres looked at her, with wide eyes. She hissed:
“Carlo, don’t dare!”
But he wasn’t about to let it go, like a dog with his bone. He took her arm by turning her towards him:
“You investigated on me too, but you were...” She heard the gasp of Torres:
“Excuse me? I was…?”
Carlo froze, realizing that he had crossed the line:
“That isn’t… not that you slept with me, but…”
Chiara raised an eyebrow, urging him:
UNDER THE CLOAK Page 22