UNDER THE CLOAK

by Lennek, Nicole

  “What do you want? Who are you?”

  “Are you one of Jamal’s kids?”

  “Don’t answer!” A slap turned her face. She felt the taste of the blood reaching her throat. She slid on the floor, on her knees. The boy lunged forward.

  “Ah, you little hero!” The man alternated the gun between him and her.

  “I want the diary that Jamal gave you!”

  “I don’t know what you mean!”

  He loaded the gun. Amina looked up: the man was staring at the door of the laundry room. She saw the other kids. It was a matter of seconds. They threw some thing around him, making him swear:

  “Damn!”

  Chiara positioned herself near the door, reaching others. When she looked up, she saw Alessandro on the other side. Their eyes met. She nodded, mouthing that she was ready. They looked at the other guys: they had the helmets, the guns, the gap; the smoke bombs were ready.

  Alessandro entered in silence. He was really good. His movements were fluid and safe. He just led the squad members in, placing them. She did the same with her mates.

  The first room was empty. It was logic: they were in the living room. So she had two rooms and a corridor to deal with.

  Chiara stepped forward; her squad advanced. Alessandro imitated her. They worked in silence, in perfect synchrony. He stopped still. He moved, and twitched down, with a finger on his lips, calling for silence. He grabbed a girl, lifting her gently. He was the only one without a helmet. He stared into the eyes of the girl, telling something. She smiled. Alessandro handed the girl to his colleague. Then, he turned his gaze on Chiara; it was a look so intense, so hot, so full of emotion that she warmed. She didn’t hesitate a moment to return her gaze to him. She felt a thousand shivers on her body. She hoped he felt her. He was standing there: his uniform was pulled on his tense muscular arms, on his broad chest. His hair descended impudent down his face. His hand was on the gun.

  He was handsome. He was no longer a suspect. He was no longer a colleague. He was a man, and he was hers. She sighed: he was a man she wanted to have again. She shook her head. She had to take off those thoughts from her mind. She looked out toward the room where there was probably the man; she heard Amina’s voice, a kid and a man. She didn’t see him. Damn. She just stood back and slid to the opposite side. Alessandro saw her moving. She walked toward them. She looked around and turned pale. She reached him, leaning against the wall, putting a hand on her chest.

  Chiara swore. Her heart was beating furiously. The move she had done was a risky one. If they had seen her… She had been quick and silent, and she had seen the man, recognizing him. Now she knew why she had been sent there.

  She found herself against the body of Alessandro, who had grabbed her. He held her against him: the door repaired both. She felt his hot breath on her ear:

  “What’s up, baby?”

  She inhaled. Baby? Now he had to use a nickname?

  She looked up at him, staring into his eyes:

  “Damn it. I know him. I know who he is! He is also your famous mole, dammit! Dammit, and still dammit!”

  Alessandro flinched, holding her against his body, as if he could protect her. He closed his eyes. He didn’t care that his colleagues saw and spoke that. He felt her gap. He had reacted instinctively.

  “Ok. Does it change something?”

  His voice came out muffled. Chiara shook her head:

  “It doesn’t in fact. It changes the fact that he is the son of a magistrate: Goffredo Spisni. I reported to him. Obviously, he has access to the reports of his father. And here’s also the one who made the anonymous call that made this case to open, with the letters!” She still remembered the various times when she had crossed him in the office of his father. She knew that they didn’t have a good relationship. Did Spisni suspect? The call was probably done to test Alessandro, but the rumours had reached his father. Everything added up. Doctor Spisni had worked around there; clearly Spisni junior knew how to move!

  She felt the gasp of Alessandro. She realized that she had the radio on: her whisper had arrived to Carlo and Torres, including Alessandro’s nickname. She moved away from him. Alessandro spoke, staring into her eyes:

  “Ok. Anything changes. Amina is under fire. We can’t take action. We have to make her move!”

  Chiara nodded. She put a hand on her own chest:

  “No, you won’t!”

  “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

  “Yes, I do! You won’t go in!”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re too involved. You would put yourself in danger!”

  Carlo quivered. Torres stopped him with his hand. He wanted to rush in. He felt his pounding heart. He loved Amina. Alessandro was right. Is she had been safe… he corrected his words: when she would have exited, alive, he would have done everything to win her back.

  “Those two are arguing instead intervene!” snapped Carlo. Torres nodded:

  “Yes, but they know what to do. They’ll not put the hostages at risk!”

  Torres saw the inner struggle of Carlo. He surrendered, nodding.

  “Chiara…” Alessandro warned her.

  She stared at him with narrowed eyes. She snapped like a spring:

  “Goffredo!” Alessandro swore, as she came through the door, with the gun still in her holster, as if nothing had happened, as if there wasn’t a man armed to the teeth, a man who perhaps had explosives.

  One of the boys looked at him:

  “Is she crazy?”

  Alessandro shrugged. No, she wasn’t. She was brave. She had pulled out her nuts. He admired her for her surefooted, her look that not faltered, and her steady voice. The man turned to her, pointing the gun. Amina took this opportunity to back away slowly: the aim to distract him had been obtained. Amina shifted away from the firing line. She was aware of police techniques. She knew how to move. She invited the guys to move in safe places, but they had to move quickly and carefully.

  Chiara was risking a lot. The gun was pointed at her:

  “Pilati… I know you. What the hell are you doing?”

  “Your father sent me here. He gave me the assignment. Perhaps, he was afraid of what I was going to find?”

  He jumped. His gun was swinging. His fingers on the trigger were trembling. But he didn’t waver, he looked unimpressed:

  “It’s over, Goffredo. You’re Christian. Tell me what are you doing as a boss of a terrorist cell of this type?”

  Ha laughed:

  “Poor fools… I have exploited them. We pulled up a nice nest egg with side activities such as burglary, robbery, officially to refinance the project. But I’m taking a good portion of the funds and I have become really rich!”

  “It’s over now…”

  “Who says that? Do you say that, detective? I have a gun; you still have yours in its holster. I hid the explosive and I won’t tell you where is it. If something happens to me, someone will explode. I’m not alone here! If something happens to me, we’ll die. Don’t want you to die, do you?”

  Alessandro beckoned to the guys, sending them to make a check. Carlo and Torres were doing the same. If anyone was here he had to be connected to him; they had to find any radio, microphones, mobile phone. He had to be in the area.

  “Sure, I don’t. But I don’t want even let you free. So we have a problem!”

  She advanced slowly, step by step, looking into her eyes. Alessandro was tense as a violin string. What the hell had come to her mind? It was insanity, a jump into the fray. It was like playing with fire: he was sweating profusely. He breathed slowly.

  “Detective, stop!” Spisni stared at her. Why was she advancing? Why wasn’t she afraid of him? He shot: it brushed against her, but it did not injure her. It was a warning. Chiara’s eyes narrowed, but she was unimpressed. Alessandro quivered. She was risking so much, too much. While he saw she was advancing, he realized that he didn’t want to lose her.

  “Ale, boss, we found nothing!”

&nbs
p; He nodded. He had hoped that Carlo and Torres found something. This was a mess. His gun was pointing on Spisni. His hand didn’t tremble. He was strong and determined.

  Amina had come to the back door. An arm of someone grabbed her and pulled her away. She winced, recognizing Luigi, Carlo’s colleague. She had hoped that Carlo was there, instead of him. Her gaze had to betray her, because Luigi gave her his headset and she heard the voice of Carlo.

  “Sweetheart, are you okay? You can’t see me, but I’m here, okay?”

  “Yes!” Her voice was reduced to a whisper. All the strength that had sustained her had vanished. She was realizing that she had had a gun to her head.

  She trembled, staring at Chiara. She stood still in front of Spisni. Amina noticed that the diary was showing up under the couch and winced. Probably, when the kids had entered the room, they had moved the couch.

  The tension fluttering in the room came up to her. She could see Chiara’s face: she was impenetrable. Amina was used to read the soul of the kids who came to her door: Chiara was tense.

  She stared into the eyes of Goffredo. She saw the lucidity. She saw his cutting merciless gaze.

  Chiara gasped. Her hand slipped to her belt, releasing the button that held closed the holster, while she kept her attention on him, with scathing tone, while her colleagues took position:

  “Would you rather die? A blow up would kill us all!”

  “Well, never mind. I’d better be dead than in jail!”

  He moved the gun, staring into her eyes:

  “Take away your hand from your weapon. Come here!”

  He stared at her.

  “What are you looking for, huh? What do you want?”

  “I need Jamal’s diary. There is the second key that opens the safe. So I’ll have my money! Come here, Pilati!”

  He moved his gun and he stared at her. Chiara had spotted the diary under the sofa. She was undecided. She could grope to notice the diary to him, and hope that he was distracted by it at the point to lower his guard. But it couldn’t work. She tried to distract him again:

  “What if you find it here? How do you think you can go to the bank? We’ll arrest you!”

  He loaded the gun, screaming:

  “Shut up, come here!”

  Alessandro knew what she was trying to do. He shook his head, whispering:

  “Don’t do it, Chiara. Don’t do it!” She raised her chin. He could imagine her hard and inflexible expression. She moved away her hand from the gun and froze out.

  Spisni slipped a knife from his pocket, holding it in one hand. He stared into Chiara’s eyes:

  “I’ll have my money, Pilati. I have not come here to leave empty-handed. Come here, or I’ll blow it all and we’ll die together. You can save somebody. Just come here!”

  Chiara didn’t move:

  “I’ll be clear, Goffredo. I don’t believe you. There is no bomb. You’re alone!”

  He smiled, putting the knife to the couch and putting his hand in his pocket. An explosion startled everyone:

  “This was the first charge!”

  The cellar, probably, thought Chiara. The floor shook. Some kids jumped. Carlo swore:

  “There are a lot of communicating rooms you have not seen with semi hidden inputs. This house is made with tunnels, dammit! Did someone hurt?” He saw two dusty policemen covered with blood.

  Alessandro shook his head. He couldn’t stand and watch. He leaned against the wall; a hand held him:

  “Giacomo, let me go!”

  “You’d be only another hostage!”

  He tried to shake off him, while he saw Chiara advance:

  “No!” He screamed. Chiara froze. Spisni turned his eyes toward him. He pitched forward, and Spisni laughed:

  “Oh, here you are. You sold your uniform to save your niece! I told Jamal you weren’t useful. I gave the order to threaten you, try and kill you for that; they weren’t even good for that. Poor fools! You are like her! For this damned uniform, you would have sold your soul to the devil! What do you see in that! You refused money, you refused honour!”

  “Honour? Which kind honour you see in exploiting people’s beliefs for your advantage? In killing innocent people in the name of a cause in which you don’t even believe?”

  Alessandro had spoken highest pitch. Chiara had narrowed her eyes. Damn him. She stepped in:

  “Goffredo, surrender. Okay, you hid some bomb, but you won’t have your money, if you die!”

  She knew she had said it twice, but she wanted to give the guys some time to find the bombs. She didn’t expect Spisni to grab her arm. He pulled her close, pointing the gun to her head:

  “Here’s my safe ticket!”

  Chapter 51

  Chiara was coming out from the hotel when she saw him. He was waiting for her, leaning on the car:

  “Hi!”

  “Are you leaving?” He approached her.

  Chiara shook her head. He stared into her eyes and went on:

  “Are you leaving, Chiara? No greetings, no ceremonies. You didn’t even ask me how it’s going, if I have been suspended or even expelled!”

  She stared into his eyes, silent. She looked down, repeating in a low voice:

  “I told you I’m not leaving!”

  When she looked up, he was nearby, just few inches from her. He stared at her and lifted her face with two fingers:

  “Chiara?”

  “I’m not leaving. I’m putting a change of clothes for the police ball tonight. I’m going to say goodbye after it and then I can go back home!”

  “Will you say goodbye to me too?” She stared at him. She returned with her mind to the night before, when, once in bed, she thought of him, and all night she had dreamed of him. She dreamed of his hands, his lips, his mouth biting her, taking her up, his hands making her vibrate. And those words of her sister, Mia…

  “You’re in love!” That sentence echoed in her mind. She looked at him again:

  “I said everyone. And I mean everyone!

  He felt a chill in her words. He took a step back, dropping his arms:

  “I see. Well, see you at the ball. I’m leaving too…”

  “Ale! Stop!” She reached him quickly, grabbing him by his arm:

  “You’re angry!”

  “Yes, I do. Because even if I was wrong, I kept secrets to my supervisors, if I lied to my colleagues, I did it for a reason. I was wrong and I’m going to pay. Disciplinary action, they said. But you… you, my dear lady of integrity, you seduced me!”

  “Excuse me?”

  He shook her by her shoulders. Chiara jerked his hands away from herself, angry:

  “How the hell do you think that? There’s a reason if I went the whole hog with you! Yes, it’s true, and I told you, I wanted to cajole you and steal information! But as I told you, this was the beginning. Everything come after was beautiful, spontaneous, natural! Do you think so badly of me? Do you think that I’m able to…” She stopped, looking for the words: “Fake my feelings? To sleep with you just for an angle? Tell me that I’m a prostitute! Cm’ on, Alessandro, tell me!”

  He closed his eyes, then his gaze slipped on her beautiful lips. He brought his attention back to her eyes:

  “That’s what I’m afraid. I don’t want to hint that. But the facts show and prove it. You made sex to me for ulterior motives.”

  “I did it because I care. You attract me! I like you! I would stop in other case!”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t believe it.”

  He turned away angrily, leaning on the car. She stepped forward, embracing him from behind. She leaned, whispering:

  “I’m sorry. You throw away a wonderful opportunity. I’m not going to beg. But tonight, later… I’ll show you that I’m able to stop in any situation, if I want it.”

  He watched her, wondering what she meant. He was still wondering two hours later at the police ball. Despite of every call and every suggestion, he wore jeans, a shirt and a jacket. He wore a tie, but he refused to wear a
smoking. He was observing the people coming in, near the railing, and looked for her: he didn’t know what to do with his future, his career; he had expected news during the past afternoon. He still remembered the interrogation of Spisni junior.

  Chiara stood on the steps. She had put her baggage in her car. The Venetian holiday was over. She was up to go back to her routine. But for the first time, she was living the end of a mission with regret, bitterness and pain. She entered the room, admiring it: it was wonderful, full of young, beautiful and fascinating people. But she was looking for her one.

  She looked around, and then up, her purse close to her chest. She saw him, leaning against the railing. He wore jeans among a thousand blacks or blue pants. His jacket was open. He wore a shirt, a tie, his usual charm and his intense look. She paused to watch him, without him noticing. She admired his choice of wearing a pair of jeans instead of a smoking. His hands were leaning against the railing, his fingers were… She closed her eyes, thinking about how high his hands had brought her. A woman from back struck her. She opened her eyes, turning back, breaking eye contact with him:

  “Excuse me!” Her eyes turned to the room. She recognized the couple dancing. They were Carlo and Amina. Her arms were around his neck. They were dancing so close, lulled by a cheerful and romantic music. She rolled over. She crossed his eyes. He looked from up there. She shivered, moved toward his direction. He went down the stairs.

  It was ironic. They were so unconventional: he fell and she helped. Not exactly a blockbuster movie. She grinned, leaning column of the stairs. After the discussion, she didn’t know what to expect:

  “Hi!”

  “Hi Chiara. Look, I’m sorry for today. I may have transcended!” He had seen her in the middle of the room. He saw her black hair loose on her shoulders, her short and tight black dress, the deep neckline in the back, black high shoes with heels, and a necklace with pendant to her neck which was of the same green of her eyes. He had noticed the glow of the bracelet on her anklet. She was beautiful and stunning. He stared at her, while she answered: