Kidnapped and a Daring Escape (37 page)

    
"I call a spade a spade, sister. Would you rather I were a diligent copy
of our mother?"

    
André laughs. "No, I think I like you the way you are. But don’t expect
us to spare you if we judge the men in your life with equal savvy."

    
"Point taken, future brother-in-law," she responds laughing. "I think
I like you. Sister, if you get tired of him, let me know."

    
"You are in for a long wait, Gabriela," André chuckles, "but then an
enterprising young woman like you will find other means to amuse
herself."

    
"You bet. But isn’t it a bit early to judge that it will take long?"

    
"Pretty girl, you are too cynical for your own good."

    
"Am I? How long have you known each other?"

    
"Exactly … let me see, fourteen times twenty-four plus, say, another
fourteen hours that makes … 350 hours. But, future sister-in-law, it feels
much much longer. I think we got to know each other under the most
trying circumstances, when both of us were vulnerable."

    
"You vulnerable?" cries Bianca. "You don’t even know what that
means. You were always positive, even when things looked frightening
and hopeless. That’s what kept me going. Oh, André, I wouldn’t be alive
anymore except for you."

    
He hugs her more tightly.

    
"Was it really that serious? I mean, wouldn’t you have been released
once papà coughed up the tidy sum of five million euros?"

    
"It was serious. André came just as a man was going to rape me, and
they had no intention of setting me free."

    
"Oh, I didn’t know," Gabriela utters, growing crimson. "How terrible!
… But how do you know they were not going to free you?"

    
"André overheard them talking about it."

    
"I’m sorry, Bianca. I didn’t want to be flippant. But seeing you two,
it’s hard to believe that you haven’t simply returned from a trip of
romance."

    
"Yes, I am amazed how resilient Bianca was throughout the ordeal. It
made getting away that much easier," remarks André.

    
"You gave me strength and courage."

    
"That was only a small part. No, the strength came from within you."

    
"Oh, André, you are so sweet to say that, even if it isn’t true."

    
"But it is."

* * *

Antonio drops them off on Campo de’Fiori at the corner of Via del
Pellegrino.

    
"Where is that hotel?" asks Bianca, waving goodbye to Antonio.

    
"Patience. Let’s first wait for Antonio to disappear. I don’t necessarily
want your father to appear at our door with a bevy of
carabinieri
within
the next hour or so."

    
Yes, if he is irate enough, he might well do this, she reflects, and then
whispers to her sister: "André is the most circumspect person I know
when it come to planning ahead, but then is reckless when it comes to
quick action."

    
When the Mercedes turns right into Corso Vittorio Emanuele, he says:
"Let’s go," and walks across the campo to Via dei Cappellari. Fifty
meters down the narrow street is a discrete sign ‘Pensione de’Fiori’. The
building looks like it was recently renovated. André rings the bell on the
little counter inside the door. A moment later, a gray-haired gentleman
with a stiff moustache appears from the private quarters behind the desk.

    
"Ah, it’s
Signor
Andrea," he greets André exuberantly. "Welcome. It
has been a few months since you last visited us. And welcome to you too,
signorine.
You want a room? With bath? The usual one? It is free. I
always keep if for you, just in the hope that you will honor us with your
presence." He winks and then laughs heartily.

    
"Yes, Carlo, I would like that room."

    
"For how long?"

    
"A week, two weeks? Who knows?"

    
"It was you on TV this morning, wasn’t it? Pretending to be deaf-mute, always the joker."

    
"Yes, it was the easiest way to get rid of the vultures."

    
"But you are one of them too."

    
"Never a vulture. I don’t go for cheap sensationalism."

    
"I really didn’t follow what it was all about, and I guess you are not
alone this time. Is it all three of you?"

    
Bianca wants to protest, but André preempts her.

    
"No, just Miss Pacelli and me. We are going to get married soon."

    
It feels good that he is not shy proclaiming it, she muses.

    
"Oh, congratulations." He shakes hands with André and her. "But I
must tell Maria. She always said that it was high time for you to become
serious and settle down." He quickly opens a door and calls: "Maria,
quick,
Signor
Andrea is here." He turns back to Bianca with a puzzled
expression. "Miss Pacelli? … Are you the girl that was kidnapped in
Colombia? I read about it last week in
La Repubblica
."

    
"Yes, André rescued me."

    
"Did he? I’m not surprised. He is always a bit on the wild side, aren’t
you,
Signor
Andrea?"

    
"If you say so."

    
At that point, a small woman, looking young and full of life in spite
of her silver gray hair, bursts through the door. Seeing André, she rushes
to him and hugs him like a lost son. "Oh, here you are. You have
neglected us lately, you naughty boy. But always the same handsome one
who turns the head of all maidens."

    
Bianca is surprised at the warm reception André first got from Carlo
and now from his wife.

    
"But he is getting married," exclaims Carlo. "This young lady here is
his
fidanzata
."

    
Maria turns to Bianca. She sees critical eyes assessing her, not like
from a simple acquaintance of André, more like from a mother.

    
"Congratulations,
cara mia
." Maria says, a warm smile softening her
gaze, making her pretty.

    
I passed muster
, Bianca reflects, relieved. She does not quite know
why it is important for her to be accepted by André’s friends.

    
"You don’t know how lucky you are getting married to
Signor
Andrea," Maria adds and then looks at André like a proud mother. Bianca
immediately warms to the woman.

    
"I think Bianca realizes that," interjects André, winking.

    
Maria bends close to her ear and whispers: "Beware,
cara
, he is so
conceited."

    
"Now, now, Maria, I heard that. Don’t you turn my future wife against
me before we’re even married."

    
Maria laughs, enjoying it, and boxes him playfully in the arm. "But I
see, your taste in women is still impeccable."

    
He responds with a smile, while Gabriela interjects smiling: "Thank
you,
signora
. I take it that compliment also applies to me."

    
Maria laughs. "
Si
, you are included."

    
Carlo now takes them up three steep, narrow stairs to the third floor.
The room is fair size for Roman standards. It has a white ceiling,
contrasting sharply with the dark paneled wood walls. Its sparse furniture
is tastefully classic. Bianca likes the room and comments on it, which
pleases Carlo. There is a little cubicle built into one corner. A basin, a
toilet and a shower are crammed into it.

    
Gabriela looks out the large window. "Look, Bianca. The street!"

    
She joins her. "André, did you come here often?" she asks, turning to
him.

    
"Yes, several times a year for a couple of days or so."

    
"I always wanted to live in the city center, rather than out in the
country," she comments. "Be part of the life of the city, rather than just
a visitor."

    
"Well, over the next few months, while you finish your degree, you
will have plenty of time to be part of the city."

    
"You still plan to go back to university?" Gabriela asks, clearly
surprised. "But what about getting married?"

    
"I can do both."

    
"But how will you live? Papà is going to cut you off. I bet he will
cancel your credit card first thing Monday morning, unless you return
home, tail between your legs."

    
Bianca looks at André. He takes her into his arms and says smiling:
"We don’t need your father’s money. We will survive." It feels good.

    
"No more margaritas at Bocelli’s then," Gabriela mocks.

    
"No, but Camparis and Cinzanos at places where real people meet, not
bored snobs."

    
She laughs. "You’re rather cynical about the likes of us."

    
"What I’ve seen of Bianca tells me that she belongs to the real people
too, and so can you if you shed yourself of that sad lot."

    
"Ouch, you have a sharp tongue,
signore
. So when will you introduce
us to these places where real people meet?"

    
"Why don’t we start with lunch to begin with?"

    
"Excellent idea, I wondered how long it would take you to suggest
that."

    
André is still holding Bianca. He nuzzles her nose. "Is she always that
fresh, my love?"

    
"Most of the time, but I think she has met her match. So far she hasn’t
scored a single point."

    
"You just wait," mocks Gabriela. "One of these hours I will pierce his
armor." She goes to the door. "Coming? I’m hungry."

    
"No," exclaims Bianca, "I want to change first."

    
She quickly changes into the Timbio outfit and sandals and puts on the
large silver earrings they bought in Bogotà. Then she pirouettes slowly
in front of Gabriela. "And what do you say to that? André bought it for
me."

    
Her sister eyes her critically and fingers the material of the jacket. "It’s
fabulous. Which fashion house? Laura Biagiotti? No, it’s a Krizia, right?
Must have cost a fortune."

    
Bianca hears André’s chuckle, and winks.

    
"No, it’s an Armani," he replies.

    
"Armani?"

    
"Yes, didn’t you know that Armani has launched into women’s
fashion?"

    
"You almost fooled me, but not quite."

    
"I warned you," interjects Bianca. "It actually comes from a small
shop in Timbio. That’s a little town near Popayàn, and it cost less than
two hundred euros."

    
"It’s almost worth going there just for that," Gabriela pouts. "But it’s
unfair that you should wear that outfit with everybody trying to guess the
fashion house while they’ll immediately know that I’m only wearing a
Galliano."

    
"I may outshine you for once, dear sister." She turns to André. "Where
do we go?"

    
"To a little taverna, hidden from the tourist crowd behind Piazza
Navona. So, Gabriela, nobody there will even think about which fashion
house your dress comes from."