Pinta sat quietly in the front seat beside Creasy. He told her that he needed to concentrate on the route. She was a little mystified because they were on the main Como-Milan road and that was easy enough to follow. But Creasy wanted to look out for potential danger spots. Places where he would have to slow for a sharp bend and which were away from buildings. He simply transposed a military ambush situation for a kidnap attempt and his trained eye picked out and noted the likely places.
After half an hour Pinta pointed out the turnoff, and a few minutes later they pulled up in front of the school gates. She jumped out and pulled a metal handle set in the wall. Creasy remained in the car, taking note of the high, spike-topped walls and the lack of cover in front of the heavy gates.
A shutter opened at eye level and Pinta held a conversation into it and the gates were opened slowly by an old watchman. She beckoned and walked through and Creasy followed in the car. Inside was a big, rambling, ivy-clad building set in spacious grounds. Creasy parked in the courtyard and followed Pinta as she pointed out the features, a playing field and running track to the left of the building and a small copse on the right, well back from the circling wall. They walked around to the front, with Creasy concluding that the school itself was reasonably secure.
An elderly gray-haired woman appeared from the entrance and Pinta ran over and kissed her on both cheeks and brought her over to Creasy.
"This is Signora Deluca, the headmistress."
She turned to the woman and said with a note of pride, 'This is Creasy, my bodyguard."
"Mr. Creasy," admonished the woman.
"No, Signora, he told me just to call him Creasy."
They shook hands and she invited them in for coffee. She had a small apartment on the top floor, comfortably overfurnished, every flat surface supporting framed photographs. She noticed Creasy looking at them.
"My children," she laughed. "Hundreds of them, grown up now. But for an old schoolteacher, they are always children."
It was all very strange to Creasy. He had never thought of schools as being warm, happy places. His own brief experience had been the opposite. He had an inkling now of why Pinta was so anxious to return.
A maid brought in a silver tray with the coffee and, as she poured, the headmistress chatted to Pinta about the school. Then, feeling perhaps that she was neglecting Creasy, she turned to him.
"Have you been long in this kind of work, Mr. Creasy?"
"No," he answered. "I've only just started, but I've done similar things."
The woman sighed. "It's a terrible business. I have had two of my children kidnapped. Not from here, of course, and neither of them was hurt, but it's an awful experience, and they take a long time to get over it."
She put her hand on the girl's knee.
"You must look after our Pinta. We are so pleased she is coming back to school."
"Not as pleased as I am," laughed the girl, and went on to relate the terrors of her governess. After a few more minutes, Creasy caught Pinta's eye and they rose to go.
"You are not Italian?" the woman asked as she walked them back to the car.
"He's American," piped up Pinta, "from Tennessee."
The woman smiled at Pinta's enthusiasm.
"Then I compliment you on your Italian, Mr. Creasy. Did you learn it in Naples?"
"From a Neapolitan."
She nodded in satisfaction.
"I can detect the accent." She pointed to a door at the back of the building. "That's the kitchen. We try to get the girls away on time but if you have to wait, the maid will give you coffee." She smiled ruefully. "Quite a lot of the girls have bodyguards."
Creasy thanked her and Pinta kissed her cheek and they left.
He decided to take a different route home. The girl was curious, but he told her that he wanted to try another way and drove on, concentrating again on the road and its surroundings.
Pinta kept quiet for a while, but the visit to the school and seeing Signora Deluca had excited her. She kept glancing at the big silent man next to her and finally asked:
"Did you like school, Creasy?"
"No."
"Not at all?"
"No."
His short answers should have discouraged her but didn't.
"But why not?"
"It wasn't a school like yours and there was no one like Signora Deluca."
They drove on in silence while she thought about that, and then she asked, "So you were unhappy?"
He sighed in irritation and said, "Being happy is a state of mind. I never thought about it."
The girl sensed his mood but was not old enough or aware enough to respond to it. Since his arrival had coincided with and had even been the cause of her happy feelings, she wanted to share them. But his mood confused her. She didn't know that he was always taciturn and withdrawn. But she did want to get to know him. She looked at his hands on the steering wheel with their disfiguring scars, and she reached out and touched one of them.
"What happened to your hands?"
He jerked away and said sharply, "Don't touch me when I'm driving!"
Then he seemed to reach a decision. "And don't ask questions all the time. I'm not here to make small talk. You don't want to know about me. I'm here to protect you-that's all."
His voice was hard, cracking at her, and she withdrew, hurt, to her side of the car.
Creasy glanced at her. She sat staring ahead at the road, her mouth in a straight line. Her chin quivered.
"And don't start crying," he said in exasperation. He took a hand off the wheel and gestured. For some reason he was genuinely angry.
"It's all kinds of a world out there. All kinds. Not just the simple kind of being happy or not so happy. Bad things can happen. You'll find out when you're no longer a child."
"I'm not a child!" she flared back. "I know bad things can happen. I had a friend who was kidnapped and his finger was cut off. I had to stay at home for months, never-going out, and now I have you with me all the time with your silences and sour looks-and I'm not crying."
But there were tears in her eyes, even though they glared at him angrily.
He pulled the car onto the side of the road and stopped. Only the sound of her sniffling disturbed the silence while he thought.
"Listen," he said finally. "It's just the way I am. I don't get on with kids. I don't like lots of questions. You have to understand that or ask your father to find someone else. OK?" Her sobbing ceased and she sat still, staring straight ahead. Abruptly she opened the door and got out and then into the back seat.
"You can take me home now-Mr. Creasy."
She emphasized the "Mr."
He glanced back at her. She wouldn't look at him. Just sat, straight-backed and angry.
He drove on, his feelings ambivalent. He didn't want to hurt her, but he wasn't hired to be a nursemaid. It had to be done. Anyway, it could well be over. Her parents ought to realize she needed a friend-a companion. He was the last person fitted for that role.
On Sunday, after dinner, Creasy was reading when the tap came on the door. He wasn't feeling good. The night before he had drunk more than usual. Apart from his meals, he had stayed in his room. He had been expecting Rika or Ettore to come up.
It was Rika.
"I wanted to make sure you have everything you need," she said, standing at the door.
He put the book down.
"I have everything."
Her eyes swept the room.
"Is the food alright? Maria tells me you have hardly eaten all day."
"The food is good. Very good. I've just been off color. I'm alright now."
She came farther into the room.
"Do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?"
He indicated the chair and moved over and sat on the bed.
He admired the way she moved as she crossed the room and sat down. Like a dancer-controlled and smooth and flowing. She crossed one leg over the other. He noted with surprise that she wore stockings with seams
. He hadn't seen that for years. They looked right on her.
"How are you getting along with Pinta?" she asked.
He replied bluntly. "We'll get along fine when she understands that I'm not a new toy."
She smiled. "It's only natural that she's excited-having a bodyguard and going back to school. She's been bored-you must be patient with her, Creasy."
"I'm paid to protect her, not amuse her."
She inclined her head in acknowledgment and asked,
"Did you argue? She wouldn't tell me, but last night she was very quiet and seemed disappointed."
He got up and walked to the window and looked out with his back to her.
"Look," he said. "Maybe this isn't going to work. I didn't think much about it before, but I'm not the type to be a social companion. Maybe you'd better ask your husband to find someone else-someone younger."
He turned to look at her. She was shaking her head.
"No, you're right. You were hired to protect her. Nothing more. I'm confident you'll do that."
She was looking at the bed. The gun had attracted her attention. It hung in its holster from the bedstead.
"I didn't realize you had a gun." She smiled. "I know-that's a silly thing to say, but it makes the whole thing so serious."
He said nothing and she went on.
"I suppose I thought you would be a karate expert or something." Then she remembered the report. "Unarmed combat, is that right? Weren't you an instructor?"
"Yes," he said. "But armed combat is more effective. Anyway, the gun is a deterrent. I don't expect to use it."
She considered that.
"But you will if you have to, if Pinta is in danger?"
"Naturally."
Now he could sense her interest and guessed what was coming.
"You must have killed a lot of people."
He shrugged, and she looked at him speculatively.
"I can't imagine it. I mean in a war and from a distance, yes. But close up, face to face, it must be horrible."
"You get used to it. And getting used to it is not great preparation for being a nursemaid for a child."
She laughed. "I suppose not. But we didn't hire a nanny." She abruptly changed the subject. "We have a spare radio downstairs. I'll give it to Maria for you. Do you like music?"
He nodded slowly, wondering at her change of direction.
"Some."
"What kind?"
"Country and Western, that kind of thing."
She stood up and said, "Ah yes, Tennessee-Pinta told me. Well, it plays cassettes, but we don't have any Country and Western."
She walked to the door, turned, and said, "But I'm sure you can find some in Milan. We are going there tomorrow. I'm having lunch with friends."
She looked at him reflectively, then said, "It would have been better if we had had more children. She's quite lonely, but..."
She shrugged and opened the door and left.
He went back to the chair and took up the book, but she had distracted him. He couldn't pick up the thread. So he went to the wardrobe and pulled down his suitcase and took out a bottle.
It would be good to have some music. The Country and Western was about the only trace left of his youth. Tomorrow he would look around in Milan and see what the record shops had. Probably only new stuff, but he knew Johnny Cash was popular in Italy, and he had heard Dr. Hook on the radio and liked him, and Linda Ronstadt. He had heard her "Blue Bayou." It had become a favorite. He poured a drink and picked up the book again, but it was no good. The woman was on his mind.
"I'll be finished at about two-thirty." She pointed to a side street next to the restaurant. "You can park up there."
Creasy nodded and said, "If the police move me on I'll circle the block. Just wait on the corner."
She got out of the car and walked across the street. Creasy's eyes followed. She wore a slim, straight skirt, something that few Italian women over thirty can do or should do. Her figure was just the right side of voluptuous and her height made it perfect. She disappeared inside and he pulled out into the traffic and glanced at his watch. Two hours to kill.
He considered it his first real day on the job. They had left the house just before eight, mother and daughter sitting in the back. Rika told him she had left the cassette radio with Maria. Pinta studiously ignored him.
A uniformed security guard stood outside the school gates. He had peered into the car and Rika introduced Creasy. The guard had studied his face, memorizing it. The gates were slightly ajar and Pinta was about to get out when Creasy's voice stopped her. "Stay where you are."
He got out and walked past the guard and looked inside the gates. Satisfied, he went and opened the back door of the car and nodded at the girl. She kissed her mother and then jumped out and walked past Creasy without a glance. The security guard gave Creasy a hard look and stood and watched as they drove off.
"You're careful," Rika had commented.
"Habit," came the reply.
"I talked to Pinta. Explained that she wasn't to bother you, just let you get on with your job."
"She seems to have got the message," he said.
"Yes, but I didn't mention our talk last night. I just told her that you weren't used to children. I don't want her to end up hating you."
He drove to the railway station and browsed through the bookstall there, picking up several paperbacks. Then he walked over to the telephone office and put a call through to Guido.
Yes, he'd started, he told him, and no, he wasn't sure how he'd like it, but he'd give it a chance. Anyway, the food was good. Then he called Elio and thanked him for his hospitality. In a couple of weeks, he would like Elio and Felicia to have dinner with him on his day off.
He had felt welcome during the few days he had spent in their house. Felicia was a tall, attractive woman from Rome. She had met Elio at the university. They were happy and their house was relaxed. She had treated Creasy like a prodigal uncle and teased him gently; he liked her.
He wandered around the station. He liked stations the movement and noise and people going places. He also liked trains. It was a good way to travel. You saw things go by and felt you were going somewhere. Long journeys on good trains gave him pleasure. You could get up and look around and have a meal.
He saw a shop selling cassettes and browsed through it and found a couple of Johnny Cash and one by Dr. Hook. He couldn't find anything by Linda Ronstadt, but when he was paying the girl he inquired and she dug around in the back and found one. It had "Blue Bayou" on it and so far the day was moving along alright.
At 2:30 he was waiting in the street by the restaurant. At 2:45 a policeman came by and motioned him on. He beckoned the policeman over and showed him his bodyguard's license.
"Does it pay well?" asked the policeman.
"Not bad. But a lot of sitting around on your ass."
"Better than flattening your feet on the streets."
A rapport was established and the policeman moved on to harass less fortunate citizens.
Just after three o'clock Rika appeared with a man and a woman. They were in a relaxed mood. Creasy got out of the car and was introduced.
"This is Vico and Gina Mansutti Creasy."
They were a handsome couple. He might have thought her beautiful but she was shaded in Rika's light. The man was tanned, impeccably dressed and neat. Fastidious, thought Creasy. The kind of man who would only masturbate into a clean handkerchief.
They studied him with interest and the man said, "I understand you were in the Foreign Legion at one time."
Creasy nodded.
"And captured in Vietnam."
He nodded again.
"It must have been unpleasant."
Another nod, and Gina giggled and whispered to Rika, "Does he talk?"
"Of course," said Rika sharply. She turned to the man and kissed his cheek.
"Vico, thank you for a lovely lunch. I promise not to let Gina spend too much." The two women got into the car. Creasy
nodded at Vico again and drove off. Vico remained standing at the curb watching as the car negotiated the traffic. Creasy saw him in the rearview mirror. He seemed preoccupied.
For the next hour and a half Creasy drove from shop to shop, opening and closing the trunk for a variety of parcels. Then he reminded Rika that he had to pick Pinta up at five. She looked at her watch in surprise. "It's so late? Never mind, you go on. I'll phone Ettore to pick us up."
At the school there were several cars in the courtyard and girls were already coming out to them. Creasy sat and waited.
Finally Pinta came around the side of the building with two other girls. They stood and talked for a while, glancing frequently in his direction. Then they split up, the two girls going over to a blue Mercedes and Pinta going back around the side of the building. The Mercedes left. Twenty minutes later Pinta reappeared, carrying some books held together with a strap. Creasy got out and opened the back door. As she passed him, she held out the books. He took them, holding them by the strap.
"Your mother's returning with your father," he said.
She inclined her head, and he closed the door. They drove home in silence.
That night Maria made stracciatella from the broth of Friday's chicken, followed by saltimbocca. They ate in silence. The food was delicious. Then, with the coffee, Creasy picked up a paperback and started to read. He remembered something.
"You have a talent Maria, the food was excellent."
Maria beamed with pleasure and Creasy went back to his book. Maria and Bruno started discussing the Pope. They accepted Creasy and his silence. The kitchen was relaxed.
Later, up in his room, Creasy put a cassette into the player and listened to Dr. Hook sing about love and yesterdays. He took down a bottle and poured a drink. He didn't really hear the words, but the tone and the music crept in under the shell.
He reviewed the day. Day one as a bodyguard. Not too bad. At least he had established a working attitude. Everyone knew what he was, and what he was not. It was a start.
One floor below Pinta lay in bed awake. Next to her, with its head on the pillow, lay a very old brown teddy bear with button eyes and a lot of patches holding in the stuffing. Her window was open and she could hear the faint music. After a while it stopped and a different tape started. A woman sang. Pinta didn't know the song, but when it finished there was a pause and the same song came again. She started to drift into sleep.
Man on Fire Page 7
