Kidnapped and a Daring Escape (51 page)

    
"Far less than I would like to." He reaches out to the adjacent bush,
which has several pink blooms just on the verge of bursting open. "And
this is a … how silly, its name is on the tip of my tongue."

    
"First love," her grandmother chips in eagerly.

    
"Yes, first love, the rose for my true love," he replies, giving Bianca
one of his smiles.

    
Now she cannot hold back her giggle any longer.

    
"It has a rare delicate pink," her grandmother says, and then turns to
her: "But, Bianca, this is remarkable. I never met a busy young man who
knows about roses. You are so lucky."

    
Bianca meets André’s gaze. He winks. He is up to one of his tricks.
She almost explodes laughing and suppresses it at the last moment.

    
Her grandmother now gives them a tour of the rose garden she is so
proud of. There are, in fact, only another three bushes that have flowers
already. It is also obvious that her grandmother is completely taken with
André. Bianca has rarely seen her so animated, and it lasts beyond lunch.

    
After enjoying coffee in the glass-covered pergola, her grandmother
takes leave. "You must forgive an old lady. I’m no longer used to be so
active for such a long time. But, Andrea, I thank you for coming. I have
rarely enjoyed a visit as much as this one." Then she hugs Bianca and
whispers into her ear: "He is such a delight. You are a very lucky girl."

    
Driving back into the city center, Bianca says: "André, André, how
could you play such a sly trick on this dear old woman. I bet that
Ville de
Zurich
is the only rose you know by name, you miserable cheat."

    
"She is a dear old lady with emphasis on dear. I like her very much,
and you are right. It is the only rose I know by name."

    
"Your mother’s favorite." She giggles.

    
"Didn’t you see the rose bush outside the sunny corner of the cottage?
It is a
Ville de Zurich
."

    
"And the only rose your mother has."

    
"Right, so it is a fair guess that it is her favorite, unless she bought it
at a sale."

    
"Oh, André, you are incorrigible, but you gained yourself a strong ally.
She will let everybody know what a wonderful young man you are … and
so knowledgeable about roses." She laughs.

    
"Do you have any doubts that I am a wonderful young man?" he asks,
winking. "Am I mistaken when I believe your grandmother whispered
into your ear that you are a lucky girl?"

    
"Oh, no, you are not, and on this I fully agree with her."

    
"Good."

* * *

Bianca’s first lecture with Visconti is scheduled for Wednesday
afternoon. She deliberately times herself to be one of the last to enter the
lecture room, so that she does not have to face the members of her tour
party and answer more awkward questions. She takes a seat toward the
back and waits with a degree of trepidation for Visconti’s appearance.
She just hopes that he will have the good sense and courtesy not to single
her out or make a reference to the kidnapping.

    
As the big arm of the clock jumps to nine past the hour the low hum
of voices fades. Everybody is waiting for his entrance. They know that
he dislikes it if they are still talking when he enters. At ten past exactly,
he comes through the door and strides to the podium. His face is haggard.
He looks ten years older than what Bianca remembers.

    
In contrast to other times, he does not greet the students. His eyes
roam over them, coming to rest on her. She arms herself, taking strength
from her earlier discussion with André on how to respond if he singles
her out. He calls on Paolo to distribute the course outlines for the coming
semester and then briefly summarizes the course requirements and, in
particular, the assignment on the archaeological study tours to the South
American sites. He asks if anybody has any questions on that. Nobody
holds up a hand.

    
"In this case, this is all for today. We will meet again on Friday
afternoon." He now looks at Bianca. "Miss Pacelli, I ask you to come to
my office so that we can discuss what special considerations we must
make for your assignment."

    
"
Professore
, I do not request any special considerations." Those
students already standing sit again. "I will do the theoretical and
historical aspects from sources in the literature, as everybody else, and
the comparative part on my own observations for those sites that I visited
and for Machu Picchu I shall use photographs and films taken by
Signor
Villier." She feels proud that she manages to state this without her voice
trembling or faltering.

    
"It is therefore even more important that we discuss this in detail. I
want you to come to my office after this class."

    
"
Professore
, with all due respect, since I do not request any special
considerations, there is nothing to discuss." It was André’s advice to
stonewall by repeating statements several times if need be.

    
"Miss Pacelli, you let me be the judge for that and, in particular, the
admissibility of photographs and films taken by another individual."

    
She is prepared for that line of argument and takes a deep breath.
"
Professore
, if this is the case I ask that you discuss these aspects here in
class. My fellow students have the right to know if and what special
considerations are offered to me."

    
"Miss Pacelli, I am astounded by your attitude toward your study
advisor. I order you to come to my office henceforth."

    
She suddenly knows that she has gained the upper hand. "
Professore
,
your course outline does not specify that all students must have a one-on-one session with you to discuss their assignment. Therefore, it is my
choice whether or not I seek such a one-on-one session, and I do not. All
I ask is that my assignment be judged on its merits and without prejudice
and on the same points as the assignments of all other class participants."

    
His face turns red. For the first time that she can remember, he seems
lost for words. His mouth remains half open, and then he catches himself.
"As you wish, Miss Pacelli. I hope you will not come to regret your
recalcitrance." With that, he picks up his case and strides out of the room
without turning again.

    
He is threatening me, as André predicted he would, but she also knows
that he has no power. Given their previous relationship and the way it
ended, she will have a good case to have his grade assessment reviewed
by a third independent party, if need be.

    
As she leaves the lecture room, several fellow students flock around
her.

    
"Wow, Bianca," exclaims Angela, "that took courage. Frankly, I
would not have expected that from you. You really have changed."

    
"Yes, I have. The experience in Colombia, rather than making me a
mental wreck, has made me come out stronger."

    
"But why did you not want to see
Professore
Visconti in his office and
see what special consideration he was willing to offer you," questions
Anna.

    
"First, I don’t want to give him power over me by getting special
considerations, and second, I don’t want to be alone with him ever
again."

    
"Why not?"

    
"Because he claimed that the kidnapping has traumatized me and that
I need psychiatric treatment to find myself again. I am perfectly sane,
saner than I was before the trip."

    
She excuses herself shortly afterward.

* * *

Thursday, while Bianca attends lectures, André completes writing up his
personal story of the kidnapping and rescue. It starts with what he
overheard in the bar and ends with handing the stolen money to the
Bogotà Women’s Refuge Center. It tells about his falling in love with
Bianca, but remains silent about the cocaine find in her handbag. It
details the inferences he deducted from the various facts, in particular,
that the instigator of the kidnapping had to be somebody close to Bianca
at the time, who knew her schedule in detail. He does not name Visconti,
leaving it up to the readers to draw their own conclusions from the fact
that it was Visconti who had arranged all the details of her visit to San
Agustin.

    
Next he trims it down so that it will fit on two full-size newspaper
pages, suitable for inclusion in a weekend issue. Finally, he carefully
edits this version so that individual aspects cannot easily be misconstrued
and so that it reads fluently. This is the version Bianca sees Friday
morning. He encourages her to suggest changes.

    
At noon, he transmits it electronically to a friend who is the editor of
the news service he usually uses for his reports and stories. He warned
him earlier that this was coming. By evening, he gets confirmation that
the story and translations of it into French, English, German, and Spanish
have been snapped up by sixteen major European and American dailies
for their weekend editions, including three in Italy,
Il Messaggero
one of
them.

* * *

Friday afternoon Bianca attends Visconti’s second lecture. She feels
quietly confident that there will not be another confrontation with him.
Again, as usual, the lecture room goes silent as the clock approaches ten
past. Many eyes are turned toward the door, expecting Visconti to enter.

    
The clock ticks on. Slowly, its big arm passes a quarter past. Several
students begin conversing again, while others look around, perplexed. As
far as everybody remembers, Professor Visconti has always been
punctual to the second. Twenty past, half-past ticks away, still no
Visconti. Paolo runs to the office of the Classics Department. He comes
back a few minutes later. Nobody at the office knows why Visconti has
been delayed. A group of students now leave the lecture room. Bianca
joins them. Several ask if she knows something. She replies "no", but
wonders whether the
Gucci
handbag finally arrived and the police
swooped on him.

    
When she is alone, she calls his home number on her cell phone. She
considers that safe since she knows he does not have caller-display. A
female voice answers: "
Pronto
4-5-2-7-7-1-3-9."

    
The number is correct, but the voice is unfamiliar. It is not his
housekeeper. She asks: "May I speak to
Professore
Visconti?"

    
"
Professore
Visconti is not available at this moment. Who is calling?"

    
It sounds peremptory, like somebody used to being in charge,
somebody official. Her heart starts beating faster. "A student of his, but
I can call back another time. Goodbye." She cancels the call.

    
How can I find out what has happened, she questions herself? He lives
too far out to walk past his house. She would have to take the underground to Monti Tiburtini, nor does she want to be seen out there. Maybe
André is willing to drive there with her. She calls him to find out where
he is. He answers at the second ring. He is at the
pensione
, working on
a short article about the current political and social situation in Colombia.
He agrees to pick her up in her car at the university.

    
While waiting, she goes to the cafeteria for a drink. Several of her
fellow students are there too, all wondering why Visconti has not shown
up. Again, they ask her whether she knows anything. Fifteen minutes
later, she sees her Peugeot stop in the bus stop outside the cafeteria and
rushes out. André has already shifted over into the passenger seat. She
slips into the driver seat and they kiss. She notices that several of her
colleagues have followed her out and are watching.

    
While she drives out toward Monti Tiburtini, she quickly tells him
again about Franco’s failure to come to the lecture and her phone call to
his home. "Do you think the
Gucci
bag has arrived?"