Kidnapped and a Daring Escape

by Gian Bordin

  Although they agreed not to disclose their inferences about Franco being behind the kidnapping, she now tells Gabriela in a hushed voice.

  "Wow," exclaims the latter, "I find this hard to believe."

  "Psst, please lower your voice," André cuts in.

  Gabriela actually blushes and says: "Sorry … what a bastard, and then he had the gall to show up at our house, proclaim how worried he is, and that he would look well after you."

  "And now, Gabriela," André cuts in once more, "you’re not to talk to anybody about this. Not only don’t we have any proof that would hold up in court, nor do we want to upset more people, but it is for your own good. If you talk, and anything gets back to Franco, you are likely to be hauled before a judge on a defamation charge that could cost your father the five millions he did not have to spend on Bianca and which would not have brought her home alive. And don’t count on us to back you up." Then he adds in a more conciliatory tone: "I know it would just be the most exciting thing to tell your friends and would lift their boredom for a few minutes. But, please, watch out that you don’t slip."

  Bianca sees that Gabriela’s contrariness risks getting the better of her. Nobody has ever dared talking to her like that. So she begs: "Gabriela, I told you these things in confidence. Please, heed André’s plea. Do it for me if you love me."

  Gabriela’s frame deflates. "Sorry, you’re right. You can trust me. But it still rankles me that he should get away with it and go unpunished."

  "He paid the kidnapper an advance of 200,000 euros and will never recover that now. His real financial woes are only beginning," remarks André. He creases his eyebrows and then a smile enters his face. "There may be other ways of getting him. Didn’t you say that many of his students fall for him? All it needs is a couple who are willing to say that he promised them better grades if they went to bed with him. That will get him on a sexual harassment charge. I presume that, like most universities, his also has brought in a code of conduct for lecturers."

  "Yes, they have," ventures Bianca, but she doesn’t like the idea. It seems debasing to do this.

  "What a brilliant ploy!" cries Gabriela and then puts a hand in front of her mouth, looking around guiltily.

  "Yes, it is a brilliant idea," concedes Bianca, "but, André, I don’t feel good about it."

  "You would rather simply put the whole thing behind you, wouldn’t you? I can understand that and I’m also torn. On the one hand I would rather forget about it, on the other he should pay for it more than just financially. Anyway, we don’t have to act now. We have more important plans for the near future."

  "Thank you, André," she murmurs, putting her hand on his.

  "What a convoluted affair," remarks Gabriela. "But why don’t you front up to papà and tell him all this. It might change everything."

  She is of two minds. "I don’t know. What do you think, André?"

  He takes a while before answering. "I think it might be wise to tell him. Right now, he believes that you see me as your hero and that I took advantage of your seeming vulnerability to turn you against Franco."

  "But you are my hero!"

  "Let’s not get into an argument over that," he says, smiling. "If he learns crucial details of what happened and the inferences from them, he may admit that your rejection of Franco isn’t simply attributable to the mental strain and trauma you suffered, but rationally motivated. I would be there to support you. He may even forgive me for whatever slight he accuses me to have done to him. But, Bianca, it is your decision."

  She is in a quandary. She is truly afraid of her father’s temper. Not that he would ever become violent, but his shouting and derision always made her want to sink into the ground, although he has done it rarely to her. Furthermore, she can’t remember ever having witnessed him backing down once he took a stand. It is always the other people who are wrong. But André’s reasoning, as always, is convincing. She also appreciates that he doesn’t simply dispose over her, like Franco would have, but leaves the decision up to her, except that right now, she wishes that he would take the decision for her.

  "I think you should do what André suggests," says Gabriela.

  "Look, Bianca, you don’t have to decide right now."

  Having been given the right to make her decision in her own time, she suddenly knows what she is going to do. "I will go and talk to papà, but not today. I won’t be dictated by him anymore. I will go tomorrow."

  "Remember, that tomorrow morning, we’ll have to see the people from the diplomatic service. We promised Baldetti to do this first thing. So your father will have to wait till afternoon or evening."

  15

  Monday shortly after nine, André calls the number of the diplomatic service Baldetti gave him in Bogotà. He is connected to a Sergio Marni of Foreign Affairs who seems to have been informed by Baldetti. The man asks if both André and Bianca could make it to his office by ten o’clock for a debriefing.

  They discuss how to approach that debriefing. They agree that each should recount in chronological detail his or her own experiences, taking care not to contaminate it with what they learned from each other or discovered later on.

  "But avoid mentioning the Gucci handbag," André urges.

  "Why?" Her mien betrays her misgivings. "Shouldn’t we tell them that the bag was not mine, that is was another identical bag, and that we suspected it had cocaine hidden inside the lining?"

  "And admit that we mailed it to Franco? … No, I wouldn’t. What if this leaks out and somebody warns Franco? Then we mailed that bag for nothing."

  "Oh, André, you and your suspicions!"

  "I’m sure that the recordings of our debriefings will be studied by quite a few people, and somebody might just drop a hint to somebody else, and so on. No, I think we should keep silent about it, at least for now. If he gets caught and it comes to court, then we may want to own up."

  "But what if they ask about the handbag?"

  "You simply claim that it was not handed back by the Cipriano and that I didn’t dare going back there once more that night. Anyway, I doubt that this will ever come up. Foreign Affairs doesn’t know of its existence. And don’t reveal what I told you about my real reason for going to Colombia. First, it is none of their business, and second, they might then tag me as a FARC sympathizer and it could cause me all sorts of problems in the future."

  "You really think so?"

  "Yes, not only is FARC a self-professed communists organization, but they are also declared terrorists by the US and its close allies."

  "I promise to be careful … Oh, André, when will it all finish?"

  He senses that Bianca is very apprehensive, so he tells her the usual format of a debriefing, concluding: "We will be debriefed separately. There are likely to be several officials present, and they will pick on any inconsistency, real or suspected, and probe. They may even try to trip you up. So just remain calm. If you feel that you are getting nervous, breathe deeply and take your time before answering. Don’t just rush in with a response. And don’t let them twist your words around. If they do, repeat your story with the same words. If you get too nervous, tell them and insist that they give you a break of 15 to 20 minutes, ask for a drink. And if they refuse, then simply answer each question by saying: ‘I will not answer any further questions until I’ve had a break.’ Don’t let them intimidate you with threats. They have no power over you. Just draw on the courage you showed during our escape. Trust yourself."

  His words of support seem to have the desired effect. Her face brightens. "I love you, André," she says, kissing his cheek.

  "Let’s not forget our new passports for identification."

  They take the bus to the Termini Railroad station and get off near Piazza del Viminale. While waiting in the foyer of the Ministry, Bianca holds his hand.

  "Courage," he whispers when a tall man approaches who introduces himself as Sergio Marni and shakes hands with both. After inspecting their passports, he briefly explains the debrie
fing procedure, not adding anything more to what André already told Bianca. He invites her to follow him. She casts a last quick, worried glance at André before she disappears down a corridor. He blows her a kiss.

  He now prepares himself for a long wait. Debriefings usually take several hours. He picks up the newspaper and starts leafing through it. On page two is a short account of the welcome at the Pacelli mansion. He gets engrossed in an article on the Bush legacy facing the US president-elect Obama, when a shadow falls over the paper. Looking up, he sees two policemen standing in front of him.

  "Are you Andrea Villier?" one questions, pronouncing it Vigliere in the Italian way.

  "Yes, officer, I am," he answers politely, while wondering what they want from him.

  "We request that you accompany us to the Questura."

  André raises his eyebrows. "I am scheduled to be debriefed shortly by Foreign Affairs."

  "We have no instructions on that. Will you accompany us voluntarily or do we have to arrest you?"

  That does not sound promising. The officer’s tone of voice is peremptory. André puts the paper down and rises, saying: "Certainly, sir, I will accompany you." It is never a good idea to challenge a policeman. It can only add to any possible charges. However, he cannot help wondering what this is all about. Is the Questura going to debrief me? Why would I be debriefed by a different service than Bianca? It must be something else, but what?

  "This way," one says none too friendly and goes ahead, while the other follows behind. A Fiat is illegally parked outside the building. He shares the back seat with one of the policemen, while the other sits in the front passenger seat. The Questura is only two blocks over. The vehicle drives into an underground garage. They take the elevator to level two, where he is ushered into an office. The nameplate on the door tells him that he is entering the sanctum of Commissario Farnese. The name sounds familiar. Where did he hear it before? He does not have time to search his memory. Commissario Farnese turns out to be a woman aged around forty, immaculately dressed, short dark hair with a hue toward henna, probably dyed, good-looking, intelligent but cold eyes, a somewhat hard mouth.

  She is leafing slowly through a folder. He waits standing, gazing out onto the park across Via Pacienza, and reminds himself that he better arm himself with a good dose of patience. He notices that one policeman has remained by the door.

  After a minute or so, Commissario Farnese looks up and says: "Take a seat."

  No ‘please’. He sits on one of the two wooden chairs in front of the desk. He reckons that they were chosen especially for their discomfort.

  "Signor Villier, do you have any identification?"

  "Yes, dottore," he replies, addressing her in the traditional manner for high ranking Government officials, and hands her his passport.

  "Ah, you are Swiss," she remarks, leafing though it. "This passport was issued in Colombia. Do you live there?"

  "No, I went there as a tourist."

  "I am told that you are a freelance journalist. I find it hard to believe that you would go to a country like Colombia purely as a tourist. Were you not there for another purpose?"

  "I admit that I did not rule out writing an article for a travel magazine, if I came across something worth writing about."

  "Did you not go there to see the famous Inca archaeological sites?"

  "No." He does not bother correcting her on the mistake of attributing San Agustin to the Incas.

  "But you went to San Agustin."

  "Yes and purely by chance."

  "You say by chance? Did you not plan it?"

  "No, it was a spur-of-the moment decision when I was offered a seat on a special flight for a one-day excursion. It is at least three days by road." She is clearly on a fishing expedition, he reckons, but for what?

  She picks up his passport again. "I assume that this is the replacement for the one that you claim was stolen."

  ‘Claim was stolen’? That doesn’t sound promising. "The original passport was taken off me by the men who kidnapped Miss Pacelli and me, dottore."

  "Yes, that kidnapping. That is what I want to talk about. Signor Villier, you have been brought before this office under suspicion of having kidnapped Miss Pacelli and that your so-called rescue of her was nothing but a subterfuge. What is your answer?"

  She is finally revealing her cards, trying to shock me at the same time, André muses. He can’t help smiling. The accusation is preposterous. He immediately guesses that this is Franco’s doing. They intend to make this a case of the Stockholm syndrome, he figures. Faint hope, Bianca will pass any psychological test with flying colors. So rather than answer her question, he asks in turn: "And what could have been a credible motive for doing that, since there was no possible financial gain, and what does Miss Pacelli’s have to say to this preposterous accusation?" He knows she cannot have been interviewed yet.

  "Signor Villier, we are asking the questions in this office."

  The ‘Royal We’? "I am fully aware of that. I have, however, several rights. Is this accusation the result of a denuncia and if so by whom?"

  "I am not obliged to answer that."

  "No, dottore, you are not, but unless you do I will not answer any further questions without the presence of a lawyer of my choice, although it is not difficult to guess that Professor Visconti made that denuncia." He observes a fleeting creasing of her eyebrows. So I’m right. Commissario Farnese should practice better control over her facial expression. He continues: "Furthermore, you have no evidence to support Professor Visconti’s allegation, nor will you be able to dig up any evidence that will hold up in court." Again he notices that flick of a frown. "Dottore, all you risk doing is to put your own reputation on the line."

  "You let me worry about my reputation, Signor Villier, and I assure you we will leave no stone unturned to find that evidence. Why did you go to San Agustin?"

  A standoff seems to have developed. He is not going to help her. He has never found it difficult to keep silent and outlast any opponent. She occupies herself looking through the papers in front of her again, briefly looking up a couple of times, the frown on her face deepening each time. After more than two minutes, she repeats her question: "Signor Villier, why did you go to San Agustin?"

  "Dottore, I already gave you the answer to that."

  She eyes him severely for several seconds, turns briefly back to the documents, and then sighs. "If you are not willing to cooperate voluntarily I have no choice but to put you under arrest."

  André sees that it is futile to prolong this farce any longer. "Dottore, it seems obvious that you have already made up your mind on that regardless of whether or not I cooperate."

  For just as second, surprise and dismay colors her face, and then the stern expression returns. "Signor Villier, I arrest you under suspicion of having kidnapped Miss Pacelli."

  "And I insist that I be given access to a lawyer of my choice right away."

  "You will get your one phone call in due time, Signor Villier."

  She turns to the policeman and orders him to take André down to the office for processing.

  * * *

  Bianca’s heart is pounding as she takes the seat Marni points to at the large table. Its highly polished surface reflects the light from the two tall trifurcate windows. She is facing two middle-aged men and a somewhat younger woman, in addition to Marni. A recording device sits on the table.

  Marni introduces them, but Bianca is too nervous to catch their names, all she hears is that one of the men comes from the Questura and that the woman is a psychologist. The latter tries to put her at ease, by asking whether she has been able to repose from the flight home and her ordeal of the kidnapping. She is then invited to recount her experience to the tiniest detail. When she starts out with how their Jeep was suddenly blocked on the road, they tell her to begin with her arrival in Colombia.

  As she talks, she relaxes and feels more comfortable and confident. They occasionally ask for clarification, especially on h
ow she met André, how he came to be on the same flight and the excursion by Jeep. They are interested in every detail of his behavior. Initially she finds that strange and then it begins to worry her. Why would they want to know his facial expressions and all the things he said to her, much of which she thinks is irrelevant or trivial small talk. They ask her a second time to go over their exchange when he pleaded with her not to go to the other side of the Magdalena River. They question whether what she reports are his exact words. She tells of her memory blank until the scream when her captors told her that André had jumped over the cliff, taking one of their own along. Does she think the scream came from Mr. Villier? She tries to recall that moment in her mind, but still cannot tell. She says so. They show her a cartographic map of the San Agustin area. She points to the approximate location where their Jeep was blocked, but is not able to identify the roads they drove through or the track they walked on, nor the position of the cliff or the location of the camp where she was kept prisoner. She tells them that André already gave all these details to Mr. Baldetti at the Italian Embassy in Bogotà. They only nod.

  The whole interview seems to go on for hours. At one point, she asks for a glass of water, and they actually take a fifteen-minute break. She cannot help noticing that the three men several times raise their eyebrows in disbelieve as she recounts some of the hair-raising aspects of their escape. They want to know if the two pursuers André shot with the rifle where really bleeding, whether she actually saw him extract the bullet from their wounds. Every word spoken by André and the four men is questioned. They make her repeat every detail about their escape from the guesthouse in Las Delicias and explore in detail how André seemed to know that somebody was coming. Finally, they ask her about donating the money to the charity. Marni queries whether she is certain that the woman lawyer really represented that charity. She tells them that they obtained her name and phone number from a web page. During the interview, the woman psychologist periodically wants to know about her feelings and state of mind at that time and how in retrospect she now feels about it. She also questions her repeatedly about her feelings toward André. The man from the Questura asks the very last question. Has Mr. Villier since their arrival in Rome ever absented himself to meet somebody or to make phone calls? This she can happily answer in the negative. No, she has been with him every single minute.