Kidnapped and a Daring Escape

by Gian Bordin

  "Yes, Signor Baldetti, I think Signor Villier is right." Bianca startles herself by her own assertiveness, and André’s reassuring smile gives her the courage to continue. "I do not feel safe as long as I am in this country. We were again attacked in Popayàn. Somebody was waiting for us at the hotel when we wanted to pick up our luggage, and who is to say that these people do not also have contacts in Bogotà. From what I hear, Bogotà is not a safe place either."

  "Hmm … and what about the debriefing with the security police?"

  André cuts in again. "You can do that. I will give you a detailed cartographic map that I took from our captors and mark exactly where the kidnapping occurred, where we were transported in a Toyota four-wheel drive, the foot track we were marched on, where the camp of the kidnappers is, and the initial part of the route we took for our escape. The location of the camp is really the only essential detail. We would not be able to identify the kidnappers, since they were masked, nor could we read the vehicle’s license plate. It was completely covered in mud."

  "I don’t know whether I can approve that. It is not in my hands."

  "Signore, I am an investigative journalist. My articles have appeared in most European newspapers, including Il Corriere, and Il Messaggero. I will write a detailed account of this whole ordeal and I am certain it will be printed all over Europe. Do you want me to report that the Italian Embassy in Bogotà put difficulties in Miss Pacelli’s way to be promptly reunited with her parents?"

  She admires his quick presence of mind and the clever way he phrases things.

  "Oh, no. There will be no difficulties on our part. We would not wish to delay Miss Pacelli’s return to Rome."

  The phone rings at that moment. Baldetti answers and then passes it to her. "Miss Pacelli, it is your father."

  Her hands tremble as she takes the phone. "Papà, it’s me, Bianca." She shouts, before catching herself and lowers her voice. "I’m free. I’m at the Embassy in Bogotà."

  "Did they hurt you?" her father asks. She is taken aback that these are his first words. No words of relief or joy that she is free.

  "No, I’m fine."

  "Why did they set you free? I have not paid any ransom yet."

  "I wasn’t set free. I escape with the help of a friend, André Villier."

  "I see. You will have to tell me all. Have you contacted Franco yet? He is very concerned."

  "No, I haven’t. I’ll try later tonight. Papà, I hope that we will be on a plane back to Europe by tomorrow. I’ll let you know when we have the flight details."

  "You have to call your mother right away too and give her the good news."

  "I will, papà, I will, but please you tell her now. It may take an hour or two before I can call. Tell her I’m fine. Ciao. Ti voglio bene. Signor Baldetti also wishes to say a few words."

  She hands the phone back. He didn’t even say that he is glad I’m free, crosses her mind. His only reference to it was to tell mother the good news. She is hurt. Her heart is still beating fast. She only half listens to Baldetti.

  After the latter puts the phone down, André says: "Signore, I will provide you tomorrow with the cartographic map and a few other details when we pick up Miss Pacelli’s new travel documents. I’m certain that I speak also for Miss Pacelli when I beg you to delay contacting the security police until later tomorrow. You must realize that informing them earlier can only mean that they will detain us and delay our departure by several days. Anyway, I doubt that they have taken any action yet to even investigate the kidnapping, don’t you agree?"

  "You may well be right," Baldetti utters with a sarcastic laugh. "I will arrange for the papers to be ready by two o’clock tomorrow."

  "Do you need a photograph?"

  "No, we can download one directly from Rome. Where will you be staying?"

  "We don’t know yet. We came directly from the airport, nor do you need to know where we will stay."

  Again Baldetti raises his eyebrows. "Signor Villier, I get the distinct impression that you have something to hide."

  "You are correct, signore. Experience has taught me to be highly suspicious of authority, particularly security services. I entered this country as a tourist, but my real mission was to get an interview with the FARC leadership. If the security police start digging, they can easily discover that I am an investigative journalist. They may see my visit into the area close to recent guerrilla activity as suspicious, and hence may cause trouble. So I want to hide both Miss Pacelli and myself from anything that could delay our departure and that includes the security police. If you don’t know where we stay, you cannot be forced to tell them."

  Baldetti pushes out a short laugh.

  "As far as my identity is concerned, you can look up all details, including my major articles, on my web page. I trust you will keep what I just confessed confidential."

  Oh, he is so quick thinking and never short of clever answers, she muses, admiring him, and it is always different from what one thinks. She hasn’t expected that he would disclose his true reason for being in Colombia. But maybe that was just the right way to gain Baldetti’s confidence.

  "Interesting, but you can count on me. Since you seem a highly informed person, do you have any clues as to who the kidnappers are? The theory here is that they are from FARC?"

  "It is difficult to say. The kidnappers operate right at the edge of FARC controlled areas. However, their behavior and mode of operation lets me believe that they are rather criminal renegades of paras."

  "What leads you to that conclusion?"

  "First, they were masked. From what I read in my research before I came to Colombia, FARC operatives usually don’t do that. Second, the kidnapping of Miss Pacelli was not an opportunistic one. It was well planned, and she clearly was the target. In fact, one of the kidnappers asked the leader what to do with me, that they only had instructions to take the girl. This indicates to me that they received detailed information about the exact schedule for her trip to San Agustin, which I happened to join by sheer coincidence. You may be interested to hear that they never asked Miss Pacelli for the address or phone number of her parents. The source of all that information could only have come from somebody close to her, probably in Popayàn, which leaves few people. Ex-paras elements are more likely to have contacts there than FARC. Third, the surprisingly short delay between the kidnapping and the demand for the ransom, as well as its size, also show preplanning and detailed knowledge of her father’s financial situation, pointing again to a well-informed source in Popayàn. All these facts lead me to conclude the kidnappers were criminal elements rather than misguided revolutionaries."

  Bianca notices that he fails to mention the conclusive point 4, namely that the morning’s edition of the newspaper cites police saying that ‘la bête’ was ex-paras.

  "These are very astute observations. I must say, they sound convincing. I will pass them on in time to the ambassador, and I also admit that I am glad to hear that you consider FARC misguided. Journalists often seem to have a romantic view about them. Signor Villier, rest assured that I will do my utmost to see that Miss Pacelli has valid travel documents by tomorrow."

  To Bianca’s surprise, he again shakes hands with André. It seems that his initial rather hostile view of André has changed one hundred and eighty degrees. She leaves the photocopies of her passport with him.

  * * *

  They walk the two blocks to the Swiss Embassy. It takes not long to complete the formalities for a replacement of the stolen travel documents. André does not report that he was taken hostage and escaped, only that the passport and driver’s license were stolen. He lies about the exact place, indicating San Agustin as the location.

  Back in their hotel room, the first thing they do is to phone Bianca’s mother, using the bluetooth connection between the computer and his iPhone. Both can then listen to the conversation via the computer’s speakers. It is a long and difficult call. Initially, her mother is highly confused and becomes hysterical whe
n she hears Bianca’s voice. Apparently, her father did not call her himself, but asked his secretary to do so.

  "Are they treating you well? Do you get enough food? They have not, I mean … you know …"

  "Mother, what are you taking about? Who is supposed to treat me well?"

  "The men who are holding you."

  "But I’m free. I escaped. Didn’t papà tell you? Nobody is holding me anymore." That’s not quite true, she reflects bemused. André is holding me now, but that does not feel like captivity, rather like true freedom.

  "Oh, I thought this was the call the kidnappers promised us already twice, you know, to prove that you are still alive, and each time they canceled it in the last minute. Your father refused to negotiate the ransom unless he had proof that you were safe and sound. I begged him to pay and have it done with, but as always he didn’t listens to me."

  "No, mother, I am free. I’m now in Bogotà. I’ve just come back from the Italian Embassy. I need a new passport. They stole mine."

  "Oh, I’m so glad." She begins to sob again. "I already thought you dead since the calls were always cancelled. I can’t wait to have you back home, and I never want you gallivanting around like this anymore. I will have to tell Franco that he must not do this again. He will be so happy to hear that you are free. You know, he especially called to tell that he will return from Argentina —"

  "You mean Peru."

  "Whatever! How should I know? He said that he would return three days earlier, already this Friday. You must be eager to be reunited with him. He is such a noble man."

  Noble? Bianca screws up her face. How can I answer that? I would either shock my mother or would have to lie. So she simply avoids an answer and instead replies: "It’s a pity that I missed out on Machu Picchu."

  "Is that the lost city of the sun?"

  "No, you are confusing two places. La Ciudad Perdida is in Colombia, on the Atlantic coast. The city of the sun is Machu Picchu in Peru."

  "I did not know Colombia was on the Atlantic. I thought it was on the Pacific."

  "It is on both, mother."

  "Anyway, what should I care? Tell me when will you be back?" But she does not wait for an answer. "Now that both of you will be back before the weekend, we will invite the families on both sides and our friends to a big celebration party, you know, as a confirmation of your engagement, so-to-speak."

  "Please, mother, don’t do that. I need a few weeks of quiet to recover fully from my ordeal. I could not face a large crowd of people."

  "But everybody will want to see you and congratulate you on your escape. There is no way to avoid that, you know. I would not dare to disappoint all these people, particularly the Viscontis. We must keep up appearances. It is now more important than ever to show that we are a strong family, you know, one that comes out even stronger when faced with adversity. That’s what is expected in aristocratic circles, you know."

  "Mother, we live in the twenty-first century. There have been no aristocrats in Italy for over sixty years —" She surprises herself for saying that.

  "Child, you know what I mean. You now just make sure that you will be home by Friday, so that you can help with the preparations for Saturday."

  "Mother, be reasonable. I do not want a party."

  "No, child. You be reasonable." They hear a firm click of the phone being banged down.

  "Oh, my mother." Bianca screws up her face again. She sees André’s amused expression. "She is impossible, and it isn’t funny, and I don’t want to see Franco ever again. I don’t want a celebration."

  He hugs her. "Bianca, don’t be angry. We have to take our relatives the way they are. We can only choose our friends. Look at it from the bright side. You can introduce me to all your family and your friends and announce to all and sundry that we will get married. That will make it a real surprise party, won’t it, and celebration for us."

  For a moment, her eyes continue blazing in indignation and then her mien changes into bemusement. "Yes, yes, that will be my revenge," she cries. "Snubbing noble Franco in front of all those people. The headlines in Il Messaggero will read: Pretender aristocrat snubbed in front of hundreds of guests."

  "That’s the spirit, Bianca … still angry?"

  "No, André, it is impossible to remain angry for long around you."

  * * *

  Next, they notify Visa that their credit cards were stolen. When they are told that new cards will be ready for them on Thursday morning at the main office of the Banco Uniòn Colombiano in Bogotà, André asks for the name and direct phone contact of the person they are talking to, explaining that they will call back within fifteen minutes to confirm whether they want that or rather prefer to wait and get new cards at their home location.

  Should they wait that long? At first, both feel that it would be best to leave Colombia as quickly as possible.

  "Mind you, there may be no seats on a direct flight out of Colombia," remarks André.

  "There are no direct flights from Rome into Colombia. We flew via Caracas," replies Bianca. "So it must be the same the other way round."

  "I came via Madrid and still have an open ticket to return that way. Do you have your ticket?"

  "No, Franco kept them all. He got a group discount."

  "So we will not simply be able to alter the ticket to different flights, and I doubt there will be a refund on your unused leg. We will have to book anew. Maybe what we really should do first is to check what flights are available. If there are none before Thursday, we might as well pick up the cards here. I feel almost naked without a credit card."

  "And I, on second thought, don’t want to be in Rome too early. In fact, if possible, I would like to arrive early Saturday morning, just in time to join the party. I don’t think I could suffer my mother for two or three days, pretending to go along with that party or even face Franco. And I don’t want to be without you."

  "Nor do I. All right, I’ll check if there is a flight out of Caracas on Friday evening. Agreed?"

  "Yes."

  He searches the Internet via the wireless connection with his iPhone. There are indeed no direct flights from Bogotà to Rome. All flights require a change, either in Caracas, New York, London, Paris, or Madrid, but there are direct Alitalia flights to Rome out of Caracas late each afternoon and several daily flights from Bogotà’s Eldorado Airport to Caracas. The Friday flight still offers seats. Flying Alitalia implies that he cashes in his open ticket via Madrid, which should create no difficulties. He makes the call to the Visa office to pick up the new credit cards on Thursday.

  Without a credit card, they can only book the flights through a travel agent. André counts out one hundred and fifty US twenty-dollar notes from the opened bundle, the exorbitant amount in US dollars he figures the two one-way tickets will cost, even after cashing in his unused Iberia Airline return fare. They book the flights at the student travel agency at the university. The salesperson is somewhat surprised when André asks to pay with US bills. However, he converts the net cost of the tickets into US currency at the official cash rate, plus a five percent surcharge.

  Later that afternoon, André writes the promised short report of their kidnapping and their escape. He gives few details on their escape, mentioning the gun skirmish, but omitting stealing a motorcycle, outsmarting the roadblock, or the Popayàn shoot-out. He e-mails it to the Italian Embassy, attention Mr. Baldetti. Then he marks the presumed journey in the Toyota and Landrover, their track into the mountains, the location of La Punta, and their escape route. He will leave the map with Baldetti when they pick up Bianca’s new travel documents next day.

  He again encourages Bianca to call Franco. She is reluctant. The very thought of talking to that man seems repugnant.

  "Remember, you’re not doing it for him, but for your fellow students."

  That convinces her. She looks up the number of the hotel in Cusco that is listed on the detailed travel itinerary Franco prepared for all tour members and dials on André’s iPhone. When
she asks for Professor Visconti, the woman at the reception informs her that he is out. It feels like a heavy stone is lifted off her heart. She will not have to talk to him.

  "Are any of the other tour members in the hotel? It is important I speak to one of them."

  "Señorita, a moment. I will check." South American Indian music plays while she is on hold. After a minute or so, the woman returns.

  "Anna Fabbri offered to talk to you."

  "Aqui Anna Fabbri," a timid woman’s voice announces.

  "Anna, this is Bianca."

  "Bianca?"

  "Yes, Bianca Pacelli."

  "Oh Bianca," she exclaims excitedly. "You’re free? Oh, what a relief! Did the kidnappers release you already?"

  "No, I escaped."

  "You escaped? I can’t wait to tell the others. We were all so worried about you. It really cast a pall over the whole group. Many of us were in tears for days."

  It feels good to hear Anna’s voice. "Yes, it was frightening, but I got away and am now in Bogotà. I’ll fly back home later this week. Will you please tell all the others that I’m fine and unharmed."

  "I will, oh, I will. We will celebrate it. Naturally, I’ll tell Professore Visconti the good news when he comes back. You want him to call you?"

  For a moment she hesitates, seemingly unsure of what to say. André shakes his head.

  "No, it’s too complicated. I’m using a borrowed phone. You see, I have no papers, no credit card, no money. They took everything from me, except the clothes I am wearing. I have to hang up now. Give everybody my heartfelt regards. Ciao."

  She cuts the connection and turns to André. "Thank you for encouraging me. At least they know now."

  "I’d like to know what will go on in Franco’s mind when he gets confirmation that his scheme has failed and that he’s 200,000 euros deeper in debt. It could well be that this is the first he hears about it."