Kidnapped and a Daring Escape (33 page)

    
"What does this have to do with the Women’s Refuge Center?"

    
"Since that money has no current owner, I wish to donate it to your
center."

    
"I see." Several seconds of silence follow. "May I know to whom I’m
speaking?"

    
"All I wish to tell you is that I’m a journalist. My name is of no
relevance."

    
"I see." Another silence. "Before I can say whether or not I would be
willing to accept this money on behalf of the Center, you need to tell me
how you got in possession of it."

    
"I understand. My fiancée and I visited the archaeological sites of San
Agustin twelve days ago and got abducted, presumably to extract a
ransom for our release —"

    
It feels good that he refers to her as his fiancée, Bianca muses.

    
"Ah, I heard about a kidnapping of two foreign tourists near San
Agustin. There was a small note in the local newspaper. Nowadays,
kidnapping doesn’t get much copy unless it’s somebody famous."

    
"And we are definitely not famous. We were kidnapped, drugged, and
then marched into the mountains. I managed to escape and rescued my
partner two days later from the remote settlement where she was kept
prisoner. During that rescue, I came across bundles of US dollar bills
and, on the spur of the moment, took them along. We then escaped to the
Caqueta Valley and back to Popayàn, where we collected our luggage."

    
"I’m surprised that in these circumstances you had the presence of
mind to take that money, not to mention the risk you incurred. You must
be a very quick-thinking man."

    
"Thank you. As I said, it was opportunistic. There may also have been
an element of revenge."

    
"But how did you manage to rescue your partner and get away. Few
instances of attempts to escape are ever successful."

    
"That’s too long a story to tell over the phone. Are you willing to
accept that money."

    
"Oh, given its provenance, I have no scruples of taking it and using it
for our center. It’s though yours. Why don’t you keep it?"

    
"Too risky to smuggle that many bills through airport screening, both
on departure and on arrival. No, we would rather give it to a worthy
cause. So, when would it be convenient to bring this money to you? We
are flying out of Colombia tomorrow morning."

    
"Ah, let me check my diary … I’m free at three o’clock for an hour.
Can you make it for then."

    
"Certainly."

    
"You know my address?"

    
"Yes."

    
"Good. So I will see you at three."

* * *

André and Bianca arrive at the lawyers’ offices exactly at three — Swiss
precision — the bills inside the carry-bag he bought in Timbio. Maria
Pasqua greets them at the reception and says: "I have taken the liberty to
call a friend of mine to witness the hand-over of the money. She is a
reporter for the local newspaper and will write a short piece for tomorrow’s issue. We have to take advantage of every opportunity for publicity
for our cause, I’m sure you understand."

    
That’s not what he wants. No publicity before their departure. Better,
no publicity at all. "I wish you hadn’t done that. Our escape from the
kidnappers has not yet been reported to the DAS
since we didn’t want to
go through lengthy debriefings with them and have our departure
delayed."

    
"Oh, I apologize, but didn’t you say you will fly out tomorrow
morning?"

    
"Yes."

    
"So, by the time the DAS becomes aware of the article, you will
already be on your way. I see no danger that you will be delayed. My
friend will simply refrain from mentioning that you are bound to leave
tomorrow morning. Are you happy with that?"

    
"I guess that should be enough of a safeguard. Thank you."

    
"Come then." She leads the way to her office.

    
André immediately likes the young woman reporter. He trusts his
instincts about people. She photographs Bianca, him, and Maria Pasqua,
all three standing behind the desk, with the pile of ten bundles of five
hundred bills heaped in front of them, including the one that still has the
bullet lodged in it — they kept one bundle of ten thousand to take along.
She records André’s brief summary of the kidnapping and the escape on
an audio cassette. He discloses that one of the kidnappers fell to his death
when the man tried to stop him from escaping. He mentions their
skirmish with the pursuers and their second escape by taking one of their
motorcycles. When questioned about who he thinks did the kidnapping,
he repeats the analysis he gave Baldetti. Bianca tells of her fright of
going to be raped, just before André’s miraculous appearance.

    
They leave the offices with the journalist and spend more time with
her in a nearby café. They exchange e-mail addresses.

    
"Are you happy?" André asks, as they walk back to the hotel.

    
"Yes, I am. I feel much better that most of that money goes toward a
good cause."

    
"I must admit, I’m greatly relieved to be finally rid of it. It was
becoming a burden."

    
"I’m also thrilled that there will a report in the local newspapers."

    
"I’m not thrilled about that at all. You know what this means? … By
Friday night, it will have been picked up by all news services across the
world. There will be a dozen or more reporters waiting for us at
Fumicino. Your dad will get more publicity than he bargained for."

* * *

Back in their room, they make love. Resting afterward side by side, he
leisurely lets his right hand caress her body. She loves that he does this
so often after they make love. The touch of his hand feels light as a
feather. She smiles and he returns the smile.

    
He kisses her nose and then asks: "When will you finish your
university degree?"

    
"In June. The final exams are scheduled for the second week. Why?"

    
"I just wondered when we might get married. Do you want to get
married as quickly as possible after our return, or do you wish to wait
until the end of June or early July?"

    
She has not given this any thought. The fact that they are going to get
married is the only thing that counts. "The 28
^th
of June is the date set for
the wedding with Franco, at my parent’s house. I think my mother has
already hired the caterers for it."

    
"Ah, ah, ah. We agreed not to let Franco into our bedroom."

    
She feels the heat rise in her cheeks. The words slipped out without
any conscious thought about it. "Sorry," she murmurs.

    
"It’s all right, love. Unfortunately, he will remain an ominous
presence for both of us for some time to come yet. So, what is it to be?"

    
She is grateful for his understanding. "What would you like?"

    
"As quickly as possible."

    
"But I want to finish my degree."

    
"I also want you to finish your degree, but we still can get married
earlier. I’m currently a man of no fixed abode and flexible about where
I stay during the next few months. I could stay in Rome. We get married
and rent a studio or small apartment. I do some freelance work, while you
study. Sounds great to me."

    
"Yes, let’s do that. Oh, André, it makes me so happy."

    
"And are you willing to do this with or without your parents’ blessing?"

    
"Yes, I don’t want to be separated from you even for a day."

    
"Nor do I. I promise that our hearts will never be separated, even if
our bodies may sometimes have to be physically apart."

    
She laughs. "You missed your calling."

    
"How’s that?"

    
"The way you manage to twist the meaning of words, you should have
become a lawyer."

    
"I’d rather be a poor journalist."

    
"And when will you introduce me to your parents?"

    
"Any weekend. We can fly to Geneva and within an hour we are at
their house."

    
"You think they will approve of me?"

    
"Approve of you? … Never … They will overwhelm you with love."

    
As he speaks, her feelings go rapidly through three different emotions:
apprehension, consternation, relief, followed by a delayed fit of temper
that he is teasing her. She starts pummeling him with her fists, and they
wrestle with each other. He tries to kiss her while she fights to avoid him
until she lets him win and they end up making love once more.

* * *

Over dinner that night, André broaches the subject of their impending
marriage once more.

    
"If we get married without your parents’ approval, it will just be a
simple civil ceremony, no big glamorous church wedding, no feature in
the society page, no flood of gifts and presents from your extended
family, just the two of us and a couple of your friends as witnesses."

    
She is pleased that he again brings up the matter of their wedding.
"Yes, I know, but I don’t really care about all the rest."

    
"Are you sure? …Your father may also cut you off financially. My
income only provides for a modest, but comfortable living."

    
"André, I may have been a spoiled girl up to recently," she interrupts,
irritated, "but I can easily adapt. I adapted without complaints to the
primitive conditions during my captivity and our escape."

    
"Yes, I know and I admired you for it. You never complained about
physical discomfort. It made the whole ordeal that much easier."

    
She feels reaffirmed. "Thank you, André, for saying that, and sorry,
if I sounded miffed. I’m actually looking forward to a life of independence from my parents where not everything is handed to me on a silver
platter. As soon as I have my degree, I want to find a job and earn my
own money."

    
"Any ideas what?"

    
"I could teach classics at high school level, or maybe find a job in a
museum —"

    
"— or you could join me as an investigative journalist, traveling the
world some more, before we settle down and have children."

    
It comes as a complete surprise. Not even in her wildest dreams would
this have occurred to her. "You think I could become a journalist?" she
exclaims, full of excitement. "Work with you?" While she says that, she
breaks off a piece of bread, dunks it in the olive oil, and start eating it.

    
"Yes."

    
"Oh, André that would be fantastic," she says, her mouth full of bread.
"You really think so? But I have no experience. I wouldn’t even know
where to begin."

    
"You have all the attributes needed for it. You’re intelligent, you’re
articulate, you’re curious, you’re capable of critical assessment, and I
will guide you. We will work together."

    
She stops chewing halfway through. "I want to kiss you," she
exclaims.

    
"But swallow first."

    
For a second, she does not know whether she should laugh or cry over
his remark. It is so unexpected. She swallows and says: "You have a
knack for taking the wind out of somebody’s sails."