Under the Cloak
A novel by
Nicole Lennek
Cover art by Sara Adanay © All rights reserved
http://adanayart.blogspot.it/
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sara-Adanay/548891361908348
Translation and adaptation by S.&.S Publishing Services
http://www.lacasadituttelecose.com
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 51
Epilogue
Prologue
She was hot and her head was oppressed. She opened her eyes and rubbed them with her hand, looking at the clock: it was 4 a.m. She snorted and turned back, that weird feeling still in her. It has been three days from she begun waking up suddenly, as if her entire life was going to change.
She needed to sleep, because she would have covered the night shift tomorrow, and her tasks became more and more heavy: she had her sleep ruined. She turned over in again and she surrendered in an hour, getting out of bed.
She leaned on the windowsill enjoying the dawn and the sweet chirping of the birds. She breathed deeply, she loved watching the sunrise; she would probably jump to bed in the afternoon, she always had been a morning person.
It was 1 p.m. when her phone rang; she took it: it was her boss. Usually, that didn’t come with good news.
“Pilati?”
“Here I am, boss, ‘morning! Tell me!”
“I’m sorry, no shift tonight. I have a big task in hand, from DA’s office. I need you.”
Chiara laid her fork on the plate, glanced at her bed and sighed: those were not bad news: they were very bad! Nine times out ten it meant tough nuts to crack; her last hope was that this was the tenth.
“I must come to the office?”
“As soon as possible, you’re not on duty tonight. I’m telling you as soon as we meet!”
Chiara inhaled and carried on eating, wondering about the weird phone call she just had from her boss. It has been three or four days a strange atmosphere was lingering inside Police headquarters; maybe this was the cause of her troubles falling asleep. Anxiety and expectation. She finished eating, did the dishes and reached her car; it might be better to go see right away and satisfy her curiosity; she had not even enjoyed the roast she usually was fond of.
When she reached the headquarters, she stayed in her car for some: she didn’t ask if she was requested to come in her suite, but it was too late, so she went in as she was: black trousers and green shirt, loose hair and boots, a good and brisk walk as usual.
“Whoot-whoot!”
Chiara smiled and shook her head hearing a whistle of approval coming from the doorman: “Renato, I’m telling your wife!”
“No, no, Detective, be quiet! ” he answered in his pronounced Neapolitan dialect.
They burst out laughing, then she asked: “Is the boss in?”
Renato nodded vigorously.
“Detective…”
Chiara stopped in the hall and turned back, tilting her face inquiringly.
“Nasty wind’s blowing!”
Chiara inhaled nodding, how lucky! She knocked at her boss door and waited.
“Come in!”
Mmh… nasty wind did really blow, she thought and then she crossed the threshold.
“Hey, Pilati, come in, come in and close the door!”
Chiara obeyed; she was feeling puzzled, she never saw him so troubled.
“What’s happening, boss?”
“You’re going on duty travel!”
It was not news. DA’s office sent her often to other police stations, actually more and more frequently.
“Okay, where I’m going?”
“Venice. And Mestre!” he replied. His voice sounded sorry.
“Venice? Mestre? But…” She hadn’t been sent so far ever. Chiara frowned. “Why me? And for what?”
“Sit down, it’s a tricky case but Prosecutor Spisni was very impressed by your work and he wants you to look after it”.
Chiara shivered: the last time she had worked for him she had to investigate on behalf of a colleague of here and it had been no pleasant at all. She hoped the circumstance was not the same.
“Isn’t it…” A glance to her boss face was enough to freeze her. She breathed roughly.
“Again? Everybody leers at me in every Headquarter of our district after they knew what happened! Boss, do not make this to me!”
“I know and I’m sorry but you did so well! And nobody knows about that affair in Venice, don’t worry”.
“Not yet, but they will after this assignment, won’t they?”
She didn’t feel excited, indeed, if she could have choose she would have asked not to go, but she feared she could not.
She ran a hand through her black hair; she recently had cut it in a bob. Now she was regretting, she was missing her long ponytail, but her frequent workouts in the pool had made it inconvenient and hard to manage. Chiara was always in a hurry, she could not waste an hour to dry it.
“Can I say no?”
Her boss glared at her as if she had sprouted horns or became a weird creature.
“NO! Clearly no… Chiara, are you crazy? It’s work… that’s that. Here’s the file. Spisni will be here in a couple hours; he will bring you up to date. You will leave right after”.
“Right after?”
“Right after, that means tonight, as soon as you finish reading the file”.
“But…”
“You’ll be a detective in support for a refresher course about counterterrorism techniques”.
Chapter 1
Chiara grinned: at least they were staying on topic. It was strange: Venice was a tourist attraction, yes, but she wouldn’t have conceived it as connected to terrorism: she would mostly have thought to Rome or Milan. However, if she was needed to go there, she would have gone. But why two places?
“Am I enrolled on this course?” She raised her face to Ruggeri, her boss.
“No, no!” His eyes narrowed and then he looked down, escaping her glance.
Chiara looked at him, smelling out the scam: she knew him very well, by now.
“You’ll teach a course: it will be held in Venice, but the headquarter on which you have to investigate is in Mestre.”
She closed her eyes, sighing, and leaned against the desk.
“I see, but… sorry, boss, but why are you telling me just now? I have no material!”
“You’ll be an assistant. Two colleagues will teach the course, in addition to you: the course
will last two weeks. For the first days, you’ll just attend: so, you can get prepared. Read the file, or you may not be able to tail Spisni’s instructions! I’m letting you study.
Chiara sank into the reading. She seized a pencil and began to underline the points she found interesting or ambiguous. She was so focused on reading that she jumped and put her hand to her chest when someone knocked to the door. She looked at the clock on the wall: it was 5:00 p.m. She has been there for two hours. Time had been flying.
“Detective, Prosecutor Spisni is here!”
She nodded, stood up and tightened her hand.
“Prosecutor!” She stared at him: he was about fifty, a distinguished man with tough face and a thoughtful look on it. He was well known for being one of the most unyielding magistrates of the town, a man who fought corruption, a champion of justice. This provoked him a large number of enemies between his colleagues too.
“Did you study the file? We have just a bunch of evidences supporting our concerns, but the charge on your colleagues is serious”.
Chiara nodded: that affair was thorny. The testimonies about the behaviour of two policemen and the dubious connection with a terrorist group were sealed.
“We decided to send you because you proved your competence and your neutrality towards your colleagues too. Under the cloak of the course, you’ll be able to proceed asking data and files and keep an eye on without being noticed”.
“I thought so. Thanks for your trust, I hope I will keep up with this!”
Spisni smiled consenting. “I know you will”.
“Prosecutor, I need to go home and take my suit before leaving!”
Chiara saw him nodding. She sighed and went out, wondering the reason why she had leased her apartment if she wasn’t at home more than two days a week. Most often she was staying to sleep in the headquarter or offside, for other investigations.
She entered home, rushed to her room and grabbed her clothes, her beauty case and her documents. She locked the main door, made a final check and put her suitcase in the car.
She decided: she was going to visit Mia, her twin, nearby Ferrara. Anyway, she had to pass that way to reach Venice.
She asked the sentinel to let her pass and finally she saw Mia again. They had a good time.
But once she left again, she realized that her sister’s sentence that sounded like “Don’t start an internal affair inquiry with me” hurt her more than a bit: this was troubling. Her sister wasn’t the first having a dig to her about it, she wasn’t the first looking at her askance. Chiara worked for justice: in her opinion, whoever acted dishonestly was subjected to punishment, though he wore a uniform. It wasn’t easy, however, working against colleagues, the pressure she was under was heavy and the suspicious glances she was pelted with were awkward, as it was not being able to make friends. It was a grave chain choking her neck, taking her breath away.
She made her car radio louder, singing softly to defuse the tension and dismiss thoughts.
She stopped in a service station, even if she was twelve hours late. She needed to think, recharge her batteries and have a last glimmer of reality before plunging into fiction.
She was drinking her coffee and her eyes were wandering among the crowd. Her attitude, or maybe her instinct, alerted her: she saw a young man hiding something under his t-shirt. She narrowed her eyes and looked around. Nobody cared, but she immediately understood what he was concealing. She put her empty cup away on the desk and went on keeping him under control; she needed just one look to identify his provenience; meanwhile, she perceived the presence of a second guy, his partner for sure. Chiara breathed slowly: she had to move. All that she had to do became clear in her mind.
She approached to the girl behind the counter, showing her badge discretely.
“Do you have an alarm button connected to the Highway Patrol?”
The girl became pale and nodded, staring at her.
Chiara whispered:
“Warn your supervisor and call the police, you’re about to be robbed. There are two armed guys in the store and maybe another doing the lookout in the parking!”
The girl grew paler but accomplished unquestioningly. Chiara got close to the guys and started watching around to count the people in there. She brought her hand to her belt and opened up the holster, grabbing the gun, even if she would have better avoided it: she was alone and there were too many civilians in that hall.
She saw the moment when one of the two guys pulled out the submachine gun and shoot the first round. As she thought, people started screaming and panic took over. The two men shouted:
“Faces on the floor, everybody, this is a robbery!”
Chiara followed their instruction; she was right: she would have been in danger acting by herself and would have put in danger the other people too.
She got a load of those men, trying to store in her mind as many details as possible, and the she watched them run. She hurried to the door, looking for the car, taking note of its brand, model, colour and, partially, the plate number. She sighed out: sadly, she had failed to view the sentry.
When the Patrols came, Chiara was standing among the people. She was turning her backs to the counter, so she didn’t saw the bargirl pointing to her and, when a man touched her shoulder, she winced.
“Are you a policewoman?”
Chiara turned out and looked at the old Patrol. She nodded slowly and provided evidence of her identity. Here, now she was being crazy late. She moved her fingers through hair; on the other hand, she obviously couldn’t go away.
She took care of the formalities and she was about to go when she heard a cop sitting in another car talking with the Patrols she had spoke to.
“Remarkable job she made! She shitted out, that’s because she did nothing! And she’s supposed to teach us something, isn’t she?”
Chiara narrowed her eyes, glaring at him, and did not reply. She went straight to her car, ‘what a boor’ she thought, glancing at the patrols through the rear view.
Her head was aching again; her phone rang. Bothered, Chiara answered to Ruggeri:
“Something held me back, there was a robbery in the service station, boss. Yes, I know they expected me to arrive tonight. Well, they’re waiting another couple hours, because when I’m in Venice I will reach my hotel in Mestre, I’ll have a shower, I’ll get relax and then I’ll go to the Police Headquarter!”
She heard him snorting, but he was a nice man and Chiara knew he wouldn’t ever complain.
“Fine, Pilati. I’m going to tell Torres, your referent. By the way, nobody knows for real why you’re going there, Torres neither!”
“It’s okay, boss, I thought so!” Nothing simple for her, she thought.
She hung up the phone and pumped up the volume again. Music made her relax; sometimes that arrogant patrol and his critics on her work came back to her mind, but Chiara had no doubts: never act if you are likely to endanger civilians.
She reached her hotel and was completely astonished.
“Whoa, they went overboard!”
It was a four star hotel; Chiara admired the ancient façade, the park, the elevator inlayed in gold, and finally reached the suite she was assigned to. There were frescoes on the walls, a high, painted ceiling, a chandelier with crystals drop and… wonderful!
A Jacuzzi!
“I’d better not to watch it or I’m never going to work anymore!” she said to herself, longing for it, and she closed the bathroom door.
Chapter 2
She crossed the threshold of Mestre headquarter one hour after.
“I’m Detective Pilati, I’m waiting for Detective Torres!”
She thought to the directions she was given by her colleagues while crossing the headquarter alleys. Two men, Barbieri and Ferrari, were suspected with collusion with a terrorist cell. It was a very heavy charge, especially for two policemen. If the suspect had proved to be founded, those men were dangerous. She had to be extremely cautious.
Sh
e did not know much about them and had purposely avoided to check their files, in order not to be biased: she needed to get an idea without prejudices.
“Detective, welcome. You already were involved into an action, I’ve been told!”
Chiara smiled, looking at red haired man with a round face, then she glanced at his family portraits on the desk, identifying his wife and children, a picture with a puppy, some others showing his colleagues in action. It was a very warm office, full of humanity. A good office. Chiara had a faint sigh: sometimes she hated her job, this time for example. If either or both the suspects were corrupt, the whole headquarter would have pay the price.
“Come with me, let me introduce the guys attending to your course; we recently had many threats from terrorist groups and I think we are going to take great advantage from this course!”
Chiara thought: “You have no idea!”
She turned the corner and stopped to observe the guys, astonished. Torres greeted them smiling and said: “Oh, Detective! He’s Alessandro, the newest member of our team!”
The guy stared at Chiara cheekily, his eyes were green with a hazel shade, his hair was brown and short; he rose up his chin as a challenge. He was aware she had heard him talking at the service station and was trying to dare her to react in public.
Chiara neglected him with her head held high and smiled, listening to the formalities. Then, she nodded to her referent and he let her speak.
Her voice was calm and her gaze rested on all the bystanders at the same time:
“As many of you know, and some know because they were there, on the road to Venice I’ve been involved in a robbery in a service station. Now, I know it doesn’t happen so often. I was out of luck, but let me remind you the basics: hostages’ safety comes first. Get on the ball, find the risk, call reinforcement. If you are alone, don’t do anything unless you’re sure you cannot make things worse. This is what a good cop does. Now, anybody got something to say?”
She gazed at Alessandro, the wise guy, but he was speechless. His eyes, however, were sparkling; she was provoking him and he knew.
Most of the bystanders clapped their hands but he didn’t; on the contrary, he moved from the chair he was leaning on with his long legs crossed and reached her:
UNDER THE CLOAK Page 1
