Kidnapped and a Daring Escape (36 page)

    
Mr. Pacelli holds it up and says, loud enough for everybody to hear:
"
Signor
Villier, as an expression of gratitude for your deed, I wish to give
you a modest reward of fifty thousand euros."

    
The people respond with subdued applause. He hands the check to
André. "Please, accept this."

    
"Thank you,
signore
. There is really no need for this gesture. I did no
more than what my conscience and my heart dictated me to do."

    
"These are indeed worthy expressions of human values."

    
It is now André’s turn to beckon the man with the tray. He puts his
almost full glass on it, and whispered in his ear: "
Signore
, do you have
matches or a cigarette lighter?"

    
The man nods and hands him a lighter. Ignoring Mr. Pacelli’s
perplexed expression, André flicks it on and holds the flame to a corner
of the paper. In the bright sun, the flame can only be guessed, but a
second later, a black spot appears and quickly spreads. The bystanders
respond with an audible gasp. A barely suppressed giggle escapes
Gabriela.

    
"
Signor
e, what are you doing," cries Mr. Pacelli.

    
While the flames consume the check, André holds it in front of him
until only a piece the size of a coin remains and then lets it float to the
marble floor, where the flame dies, leaving only a few scattered ashes.
"As I said, there was no need for that,
signore
. But thank you for the
thought."

    
"Do you consider that the amount is not enough?"

    
"No, s
ignore
. I do not want a financial reward. In fact, I feel that I
would debase myself accepting one."

    
"So can I then be of help to you in another way? Do you need a job?"

    
Bianca intervenes before André can answer. "André is a successful
investigative journalist. His articles have appeared in all major European
newspapers."

    
"If it is not money or a job, then tell me,
Signor
Villier, what I can do
for you."

    
André smiles, takes Bianca’s hand and says: "Bianca and I intend to
get married. You could give us your blessing."

    
This time, his words are met by a collective gasp, followed by total
silence. Only the faint rustle of leaves in the wind and the chirping of a
few sparrows can be heard. He meets Bianca’s gaze. Her face is beaming.
Her eyes are radiant. Slowly a tear forms at the edge of her left eye and
rolls down her cheek. He wipes it off gently.

    
The silence is shattered by the cry of Bianca’s mother: "Oh,
Madonna
mia
, I’m going to faint." She has a hand, finger’s outstretched, pressed
to her bosom and her eyes dramatically turned to the sky. But André
guesses that it is just theater. It is quickly followed by Gabriela clapping
and shouting: "Bravo, bravo."

    
Mr. Pacelli turns angrily to her and hisses: "Behave yourself." Then
he looks at André and says: "
Signor
Villier, I must say I am shocked by
your audacity —"

    
Franco interrupts him, shouting at André, as he steps closer to be
almost nose to nose with him: "How dare you take advantage of a
vulnerable girl who has gone through a horrible trial. You are a most
despicable vulture. I saw right through you already in Popayàn." He grabs
Bianca’s wrist of the hand that is still holding the champagne flute,
saying: "Come, my poor Bianca. I will protect you from this vile man.
We will find the best psychiatric help there is to make you whole again."

    
She drops the flute onto the marble floor, where it shatters, lets go of
André’s hand, and attempts to pry her wrist from Franco’s grip. "Take
your hand off me," she cries, as he continues pulling her away.

    
When he fails to heed her call, André says without raising his voice:
"
Signor
Visconti, Bianca asked you to remove your hand."

    
Ignoring him, Franco continues pulling, saying: "Bianca, don’t you see
that you need help urgently."

    
"Oh, she will get it this second," André cuts in. He grasps Franco’s
free arm, twists it up the man’s back and says: "I suggest you let go now,
Signor
Visconti."

    
Franco yells out, more in outrage than in pain, and releases Bianca’s
wrist.

    
"André, please take me away," she cries, grabbing his hand and
dragging him down the stairs to the car.

    
"Bianca, come back," Mr. Pacelli shouts. "I order you to come back
immediately … Bianca!"

    
At the same time Franco’s ranting can be heard. "
Signor
Pacelli, you
must restrain your daughter. Can’t you see that this man is dangerous? He
assaulted me. He will abuse your daughter as he may already have done.
Signor
Pacelli, you must forbid her to see this man ever again."

    
Bianca is already climbing into the backseat of the Mercedes. André
sees Gabriela enter from the other side. Then he remembers Bianca’s
suitcase at the top of the stairs. He quickly goes up, taking the steps two
at a time. The television crews have stopped filming.

    
"What do you want now?" shouts Mr. Pacelli, while most of the other
reluctant spectators retreat a few steps.

    
"Only Bianca’s suitcase,
signore
," André answers calmly, picking it
up.

    
Franco intervenes again. "
Signor
Pacelli, you must call the police and
order your servants to restrain this man. He assaulted me. Don’t you see
he is a grave danger to your daughter?"

    
At that point, something snaps in André. Against his better judgment
he says: "
Signor
Visconti, I rescued Bianca from certain death. Do I need
to remind you of your own words in the Alcazar Bar, when Bequilà asked
you what to do with the hostage after the ransom was paid?" He imitates
Franco’s voice and speech perfectly. "‘Use her or make her disappear.
How, I leave that up to you,’ you replied and then you laughed cynically."

    
Franco goes white and shrinks back like bitten by a snake.

    
"But don’t worry,
signor
e," André continues, "Bequilà, the only
witness who could testify against you, was shot dead in front of the
Cipriano when he tried to capture Bianca a second time. So you’re safe.
You are only 200,000 euros out of pocket."

    
He turns to leave.

    
"What’s this all about? What 200,000 euros?" shouts Mr. Pacelli.

    
"How should I know," replies Franco. "This man is totally crazy. He
is insane, can’t you see. His behavior this morning proves it. First, he
pretends to be deaf-mute, then he burns your check of 50,000 euros, and
claims he wants to marry your daughter. When I tried to protect my
fiancée, he assaulted me, and now accuses me of I don’t know what."

   
As André walks down the steps, he cannot help but admire the
man’s quick recovery. He hands Antonio Bianca’s suitcase and also
climbs into the backseat. As they drive away, he watches Mr. Pacelli talk
on the cell phone, his hands gesticulating wildly.

* * *
 

Bianca’s hands are trembling when she takes André’s. She is still shaken
by Franco grabbing her. It felt like an assault. André drapes an arm over
her shoulder, hugging her and kissing her cheek.

    
"It’s all right, love," he murmurs, "we have each other."

    
She tries to respond with a smile, and cannot prevent tears rolling
down her cheeks. She feels secure again. His reassuring presence slowly
lets her gain back a measure of calm.

    
"Oh, what fireworks," exclaims Gabriela. "I can’t wait until this hits
the news. The biggest scandal of the year, ‘Tycoon defied by own
daughter’, and all recorded on TV for posterity."

    
"It is not funny," Bianca reproaches.

    
"Not funny? It is the most hilarious soap opera I’ve ever seen. First,
papà’s pompous speech, all staged for television, then your lover
nonchalantly burning a fifty thousand euro check — not a thousand, nor
a mere ten thousand, no, fifty thousand. Did you see the faces of our
relatives? Their eyes almost popped out. But the real climax was you two
holding hands like teenage lovers and André asking for papà’s blessing.
You know, Bianca, you’ve never looked more beautiful as right then."

    
"Yes, Bianca," André chuckles, "it was like a bright sun was radiating
from inside you."

    
"I was so proud of you when you asked papà for my hand," she
murmurs.

    
"Correction, sister. He didn’t ask for your hand. He stated quite
unequivocally that you are getting married and only asked papà’s
blessing."

    
"Same thing." Why does she always have to argue about fine nuances
in meaning, she reflects, irritated.

    
"Oh, no. It’s intended effect was quite different. André did not give
papà choice about you getting married; he only gave him a choice about
showing or withholding his approval. Papà is not used not to be the one
who calls the shots."

    
She is right on that last bit, muses Bianca. But, right at this moment,
all she wants is to forget the whole ugly scene and simply be with André.

14

"Where is Antonio taking us?" Bianca asks Gabriela.

    
"To the Hotel Metronome on Via Caver. Papà has booked a room for
André for two nights."

    
"We’re not going there," André remarks emphatically. He bends
forward and tells the driver. "
Signore
, please, take us to Campo
de’Fiori." Turning back to Bianca, he adds: "I know a cute little
pensione
off the piazza, nice, clean, a charming couple running it, and utterly
affordable."

    
"I thought you would be independently rich," comments Gabriela, "the
way you throw away money."

    
"No, I’m a starving journalist, but right now we still have a few
thousand dollars of that loot."

    
"So you didn’t give all of it away then?"

    
"No, we kept about twelve thousand dollars to tide us over for the next
few weeks."

    
"Are you really serious about getting married? Why don’t you simply
live together?"

    
"Because I’m an old-fashioned man and because I’m fully committed
to Bianca —"

    
"— and I know André is the man I want to spend my life with,"
Bianca adds. "Why are you grinning?"

    
"I just remembered the professor’s face when André said you were
getting married, and he saw all that money slipping away from him."

    
"What money?" Bianca asked.

    
"The extra large dowry papà promised, not to speak of your inheritance. Did you really think that this was not his only motive for wanting
to marry you? Were you that naive?"

    
"Gabriela, you are unfair to Bianca. Love or the believe in love is a
strange thing. And besides, Franco is a good-looking man. He bears
himself well. All right, he is a bit pompous, but maybe that is just a
defensive veneer, and he may well be able to enthuse his students with
his archaeological expertise. So, I can easily see that some of them fall
for him."

    
"Thank you, André," Bianca murmurs.

    
"And many a young and not so young woman has fallen for him, the
gossip goes, not to mention the fact that he belongs to the old aristocracy."

    
"You are mean," Bianca exclaims.