Kidnapped and a Daring Escape (39 page)

    
"Yes, they have," ventures Bianca, but she doesn’t like the idea. It
seems debasing to do this.

    
"What a brilliant ploy!" cries Gabriela and then puts a hand in front
of her mouth, looking around guiltily.

    
"Yes, it is a brilliant idea," concedes Bianca, "but, André, I don’t feel
good about it."

    
"You would rather simply put the whole thing behind you, wouldn’t
you? I can understand that and I’m also torn. On the one hand I would
rather forget about it, on the other he should pay for it more than just
financially. Anyway, we don’t have to act now. We have more important
plans for the near future."

    
"Thank you, André," she murmurs, putting her hand on his.

    
"What a convoluted affair," remarks Gabriela. "But why don’t you
front up to papà and tell him all this. It might change everything."

    
She is of two minds. "I don’t know. What do you think, André?"

    
He takes a while before answering. "I think it might be wise to tell
him. Right now, he believes that you see me as your hero and that I took
advantage of your seeming vulnerability to turn you against Franco."

    
"But you are my hero!"

    
"Let’s not get into an argument over that," he says, smiling. "If he
learns crucial details of what happened and the inferences from them, he
may admit that your rejection of Franco isn’t simply attributable to the
mental strain and trauma you suffered, but rationally motivated. I would
be there to support you. He may even forgive me for whatever slight he
accuses me to have done to him. But, Bianca, it is your decision."

    
She is in a quandary. She is truly afraid of her father’s temper. Not
that he would ever become violent, but his shouting and derision always
made her want to sink into the ground, although he has done it rarely to
her. Furthermore, she can’t remember ever having witnessed him backing
down once he took a stand. It is always the other people who are wrong.
But André’s reasoning, as always, is convincing. She also appreciates
that he doesn’t simply dispose over her, like Franco would have, but
leaves the decision up to her, except that right now, she wishes that he
would take the decision for her.

    
"I think you should do what André suggests," says Gabriela.

    
"Look, Bianca, you don’t have to decide right now."

    
Having been given the right to make her decision in her own time, she
suddenly knows what she is going to do. "I will go and talk to papà, but
not today. I won’t be dictated by him anymore. I will go tomorrow."

    
"Remember, that tomorrow morning, we’ll have to see the people
from the diplomatic service. We promised Baldetti to do this first thing.
So your father will have to wait till afternoon or evening."

15

Monday shortly after nine, André calls the number of the diplomatic
service Baldetti gave him in Bogotà. He is connected to a Sergio Marni
of Foreign Affairs who seems to have been informed by Baldetti. The
man asks if both André and Bianca could make it to his office by ten
o’clock for a debriefing.

    
They discuss how to approach that debriefing. They agree that each
should recount in chronological detail his or her own experiences, taking
care not to contaminate it with what they learned from each other or
discovered later on.

    
"But avoid mentioning
the Gucci
handbag," André urges.

    
"Why?" Her mien betrays her misgivings. "Shouldn’t we tell them that
the bag was not mine, that is was another identical bag, and that we
suspected it had cocaine hidden inside the lining?"

    
"And admit that we mailed it to Franco? … No, I wouldn’t. What if
this leaks out and somebody warns Franco? Then we mailed that bag for
nothing."

    
"Oh, André, you and your suspicions!"

    
"I’m sure that the recordings of our debriefings will be studied by
quite a few people, and somebody might just drop a hint to somebody
else, and so on. No, I think we should keep silent about it, at least for
now. If he gets caught and it comes to court, then we may want to own
up."

    
"But what if they ask about the handbag?"

    
"You simply claim that it was not handed back by the Cipriano and
that I didn’t dare going back there once more that night. Anyway, I doubt
that this will ever come up. Foreign Affairs doesn’t know of its existence.
And don’t reveal what I told you about my real reason for going to
Colombia. First, it is none of their business, and second, they might then
tag me as a FARC sympathizer and it could cause me all sorts of
problems in the future."

    
"You really think so?"

    
"Yes, not only is FARC a self-professed communists organization, but
they are also declared terrorists by the US and its close allies."

    
"I promise to be careful … Oh, André, when will it all finish?"

    
He senses that Bianca is very apprehensive, so he tells her the usual
format of a debriefing, concluding: "We will be debriefed separately.
There are likely to be several officials present, and they will pick on any
inconsistency, real or suspected, and probe. They may even try to trip you
up. So just remain calm. If you feel that you are getting nervous, breathe
deeply and take your time before answering. Don’t just rush in with a
response. And don’t let them twist your words around. If they do, repeat
your story with the same words. If you get too nervous, tell them and
insist that they give you a break of 15 to 20 minutes, ask for a drink. And
if they refuse, then simply answer each question by saying: ‘I will not
answer any further questions until I’ve had a break.’ Don’t let them
intimidate you with threats. They have no power over you. Just draw on
the courage you showed during our escape. Trust yourself."

    
His words of support seem to have the desired effect. Her face
brightens. "I love you, André," she says, kissing his cheek.

    
"Let’s not forget our new passports for identification."

    
They take the bus to the Termini Railroad station and get off near
Piazza del Viminale. While waiting in the foyer of the Ministry, Bianca
holds his hand.

    
"Courage," he whispers when a tall man approaches who introduces
himself as Sergio Marni and shakes hands with both. After inspecting
their passports, he briefly explains the debriefing procedure, not adding
anything more to what André already told Bianca. He invites her to
follow him. She casts a last quick, worried glance at André before she
disappears down a corridor. He blows her a kiss.

    
He now prepares himself for a long wait. Debriefings usually take
several hours. He picks up the newspaper and starts leafing through it.
On page two is a short account of the welcome at the Pacelli mansion. He
gets engrossed in an article on the Bush legacy facing the US president-elect Obama, when a shadow falls over the paper. Looking up, he sees
two policemen standing in front of him.

    
"Are you Andrea Villier?" one questions, pronouncing it Vigliere in
the Italian way.

    
"Yes, officer, I am," he answers politely, while wondering what they
want from him.

    
"We request that you accompany us to the
Questura
."

    
André raises his eyebrows. "I am scheduled to be debriefed shortly by
Foreign Affairs."

    
"We have no instructions on that. Will you accompany us voluntarily
or do we have to arrest you?"

    
 That does not sound promising. The officer’s tone of voice is
peremptory. André puts the paper down and rises, saying: "Certainly, sir,
I will accompany you." It is never a good idea to challenge a policeman.
It can only add to any possible charges. However, he cannot help
wondering what this is all about. Is the
Questura
going to debrief me?
Why would I be debriefed by a different service than Bianca? It must be
something else, but what?

    
"This way," one says none too friendly and goes ahead, while the
other follows behind. A Fiat is illegally parked outside the building. He
shares the back seat with one of the policemen, while the other sits in the
front passenger seat. The
Questura
is only two blocks over. The vehicle
drives into an underground garage. They take the elevator to level two,
where he is ushered into an office. The nameplate on the door tells him
that he is entering the sanctum of
Commissario
Farnese. The name
sounds familiar. Where did he hear it before? He does not have time to
search his memory.
Commissario
Farnese turns out to be a woman aged
around forty, immaculately dressed, short dark hair with a hue toward
henna, probably dyed, good-looking, intelligent but cold eyes, a
somewhat hard mouth.

    
She is leafing slowly through a folder. He waits standing, gazing out
onto the park across Via Pacienza, and reminds himself that he better arm
himself with a good dose of patience. He notices that one policeman has
remained by the door.

    
After a minute or so,
Commissario
Farnese looks up and says: "Take
a seat."

    
No ‘please’. He sits on one of the two wooden chairs in front of the
desk. He reckons that they were chosen especially for their discomfort.

    
"
Signor
Villier, do you have any identification?"

    
"Yes,
dottore
," he replies, addressing her in the traditional manner for
high ranking Government officials, and hands her his passport.

    
"Ah, you are Swiss," she remarks, leafing though it. "This passport
was issued in Colombia. Do you live there?"

    
"No, I went there as a tourist."

    
"I am told that you are a freelance journalist. I find it hard to believe
that you would go to a country like Colombia purely as a tourist. Were
you not there for another purpose?"

    
"I admit that I did not rule out writing an article for a travel magazine,
if I came across something worth writing about."

    
"Did you not go there to see the famous Inca archaeological sites?"

    
"No." He does not bother correcting her on the mistake of attributing
San Agustin to the Incas.

    
"But you went to San Agustin."

    
"Yes and purely by chance."

    
"You say by chance? Did you not plan it?"

    
"No, it was a spur-of-the moment decision when I was offered a seat
on a special flight for a one-day excursion. It is at least three days by
road." She is clearly on a fishing expedition, he reckons, but for what?

    
She picks up his passport again. "I assume that this is the replacement
for the one that you claim was stolen."

    
‘Claim was stolen’? That doesn’t sound promising. "The original
passport was taken off me by the men who kidnapped Miss Pacelli and
me,
dottore
."

    
"Yes, that kidnapping. That is what I want to talk about.
Signor
Villier, you have been brought before this office under suspicion of
having kidnapped Miss Pacelli and that your so-called rescue of her was
nothing but a subterfuge. What is your answer?"

    
She is finally revealing her cards, trying to shock me at the same time,
André muses. He can’t help smiling. The accusation is preposterous. He
immediately guesses that this is Franco’s doing. They intend to make this
a case of the Stockholm syndrome, he figures. Faint hope, Bianca will
pass any psychological test with flying colors. So rather than answer her
question, he asks in turn: "And what could have been a credible motive
for doing that, since there was no possible financial gain, and what does
Miss Pacelli’s have to say to this preposterous accusation?" He knows
she cannot have been interviewed yet.