Instead, she communicated with them in her elementary Italian, Megan feeling sluggish and in no mood to talk. The peon carrying their suitcases was delighted at her attempts, and his attitude was contagious.
“If you would be of need of anything, anything all Ms. Lindsay, just ring the bell.” He gestured towards a small remote on the small table for two as he ushered them to their room.
“Of course. Merci Mille, Paolo,” she said, taking a moment to thank him by his name, which she had been sure to note in their conversation. The man gave her a peppy salute and gently closed the door behind him.
“Finally!” Megan exclaimed. “I need to rest.” She plopped down on one of the two beds in the twenty square meters room, decorated in white and beige themes with parquet flooring. Soundproof, double-glazed windows gave a view onto the street below. The room had a wardrobe and closet, which Paula filled quickly with their lightly packed suitcase, while she stored her more valuable items, some select pieces of jewelry and her work laptop into the secure safe.
There was a mini-bar as well, from where she took a bottle of mineral water and opened it, throwing the plastic covering the cap into a trash can that matched the room’s theme.
After a drink of the fresh water, she walked over to the windows, opening them and peering at the world below. Paula drank in the sight of Rome, of the people walking on the street, the unique architecture of the buildings. This was where her father had grown up.
This was where she had come to find her answers. Would she be able to conquer her demons at last, and get to the bottom of her power? She couldn’t just call this thing a gift yet, not when it had been a curse for most of her life. But she wanted to. She could not let the progress given to her by Jose be wasted.
Paula Lindsay had come for answers, and she would find them, no matter what. For starters, she would look into the man who knew the most about her father, her grandfather Bianchi.
3.
Kidnapped
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Megan asked, looking here and there about the crowd repeatedly after every minute or so. Paula tried not to roll her eyes, the fearful attitude of her aunt beginning to get on her nerves.
“Relax Meg, nothing is going to happen. We’re in broad daylight, for crying out loud. Just sit back and chill.”
“You just don’t know how these people are like Paula. I think we should just go back to the hotel for today, we have come quite far from it.”
This time Paula did roll her eyes, wondering just how dangerous a visit to Fontana di Trevi could be, surrounded by tourists and adequate security. It wasn’t like a movie where the Mafia was waiting around the corner, watching their every move, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Their hotel was barely a kilometer from the place anyway, and it would take less than ten minutes to get back to it.
Paula was impressed by the baroque fountain. Instead of hiring any tour guide, she had researched it herself. “The statue on the right signifies health, while the one on the left is symbolic for abundance,” she told her aunt, trying to take her mind off dark thoughts.
“The man in the middle is Oceanus,” Megan replied. At Paula’s raised eyebrow, she further said, “Hey I know somethings too okay? Don’t take me for a total ditz.”
“I never did, aunty,” Paula smirked, and it was her act more than her words which caused Megan to twitch.
“Did you now?” The aunt deadpanned at her niece, who began to whistle lightly.
“Okay, maybe a little bit.” Paula held up her thumb and forefinger. “This much, maybe?”
Truthfully, as much as she loved Megan, she didn’t expect much from her, or anyone else. It was best to not expect anything from anyone at all, really. “Then what about those statues in front of Oceanus, within the fountain?”
“You mean those with the horses? Umm, they were called...” Megan drifted into thought, the conversation turning into silence as it became painfully evident that Italian raised in America didn’t know what they were called. “They are called, uh, tricksters?”
“Tritans!” Paula snickered quietly, mindful of the crowd. “They are called Tritans, one of the minor sea gods in Greek mythology.”
“Whatever,” Megan said, feeling disgruntled. Internally, Paula high-fived herself because now how her aunt was annoyed, which was a step-up from her being scared. Sometimes, the only way to make people do things for their betterment was to give them a little kick, instead of always just sympathizing with them. Paula used this technique with her employees, so what was the harm of using it on her dear aunt?
Unbeknownst to the pair, a pair of eyes had been observing them for a while now. They watched the tall, slim girl, with the looks of a model, walking between the crowd of tourists carelessly without a care in the world, and her shorter, slightly haggardly aunt.
“There’s a famous tradition about this fountain as well.” Paula mused out loud. “Apparently, if you use your right hand to toss a coin into the fountain over your left shoulder, you’re bound to return to Rome.”
“Heavens, no. Why would you want to return to Italy? Just once is fine.” Megan folded her arms. “Wait a minute, it doesn’t stop there. If you toss two coins, you fall in love with an Italian, and if you toss thrice then...” Then you marry an Italian, as was the myth.
Megan narrowed her eyes, not completing her sentence. Despite his name, wasn’t Jose Sanchez an Italian? It was something his receptionist had told the former junkie, trying to soothe her worries about the psychologist during his initial sessions.
“Don’t give me that look, aunty,” Paula shot back. “I don’t believe in myths when it comes to people and relationships,” she said, knowing how her aunt liked to read her horoscope once in a while, believing in astrology. “And even if I did have some coins, tossing them into the fountain would an act of charity, since it the authorities make sure that the money is spent well, and no one just picks up other people’s currency.”
Oh. Now Megan just felt a little stupid. “Sorry, I was thinking about something else. Throw some coins if you want. Carry on then.”
“Well, I would but it’s not like I can withdraw coins by using my debit card,” Paula said with a wry smirk, patting her aunt gently on the back.
ATMs didn’t throw around coins when you withdrew cash. Thanks to Paula, she also knew to use some money instead of her credit card, because while it could work in Europe, there would be unnecessary extra charges, all of which could be avoided.
If it weren’t for her niece, Megan wouldn’t save half as much money as she regularly did. You would think that a millionaire wouldn’t mind spending money, and Paula surely did not, but only if it was worth it.
“How about we just take a selfie instead?” Paula took out her phone, turning on the front camera. Megan leaned in next to her, barely reaching her niece’s shoulders despite being a tall woman herself, coming into the frame on the screen.
They made several poses, taking pictures and completely enwrapped in their own world until her phone was smoothly removed from her grasp. Before Paula could even think of shouting ‘Thief!’, something small, cold and metal pressed against her side.
“No, no, make no sound. Pretend to be normal,” a female voice, with an Italian accented whispered into her ear. “Make no commotion.”
There was no doubt that a small gun was pressed against her. Seeing Megan out of the corner of her eye, she could tell her Aunt was in a similar predicament.
The thief who had taken her phone was a skinny young man in his twenties with blond hair, dressed in a jumper and Bermuda jeans, casually scrolling through her phone. “Ms. Lindsay,” he looked up, speaking very courteously, “Follow me.” It was a command, not a request. Now that she focused, Paula noticed that some tourists were monitoring the situation, but not interfering. In fact, if anyone got too close to her and Megan’s direction, instead of helpin
g, they would engage them in a conversation, distracting them.
“It’s them,” Megan whimpered. “I told you we should have gone back. I told you!”
“No, you follow him. Easy now,” the wiry female, with red-dyed hair wearing a crimson camisole and white pants chided Megan, slipping her arm through hers to keep her hostage. “You cannot go with her. But relax, if you comply, you will not hurt.”
Paula briefly regretted the situation they had gotten into, but soon exerted control over her fear. “It’s me, right? Only I have to go?”
“Yes, only you, Ms. Lindsay. This lady, we will keep her safe. But only if you cooperate,” the Italian woman said, smiling brightly. Paula had to give her credit for her acting chops. Not a moment ago she had pulled a gun on her, and now she was acting all buddy-buddy with her distressed aunt.
“What guarantee do I have that you will not do anything to her?” Paula demanded, a hint of her temper flaring, but kept her voice down to not draw attention. “What is that you want from me?”
“Just talking. There is someone who wants to just talk with you. This is just how we usually do things,” the man who had taken her cellphone now spoke. “It is best to hurry; he does not like to be kept waiting. I promise your friend,” he pointed with his chin towards her aunt, “is in great hands.”
Left with no choice, Paula conceded to their demand. She gave her aunt one apologetic glance before she left, before nodding, “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Of course, dear, and don’t forget, I love you,” Megan sighed heavily. She had zero doubt in her mind that these two people belonged to the mafia.
“Love you too aunty.” Paula would have moved to hug her, but the man was growing impatient, his glare burning a hole in the back of her head. “I’m coming, where do you want me to go?”
“It is in your own benefit to not ask questions,” he said cryptically, running a hand through his sleek blond hair, “Follow me.” The man said once more, and this time, Paula complied.
He led her out of the crowd to a white Porsche, a model Paula recognized as Panamera 4 Executive, with tinted windows. Like a gentleman, he opened the rear door for her and then revoked any goodwill he had gathered when he all but ushered Paula inside, before sitting in the back himself.
The man instructed something to the driver in Italian, and soon they were on their way. The blond took out Paula’s phone, and her eyes became glued to it.
“If you cooperate, I will let you call your aunt when we arrive. Will you cooperate?”
What did he intend to do? So far, these people had not harmed her, not tried to make any deliberate threats. Fine, she would bite. “Okay.”
“Put this on and lie back.” He handed her a sleeping mask, not unlike her own blackout sleeping mask which allowed the wearer to be immersed in total darkness.
It was better than a traditional blindfold, Paula thought to herself, before putting it on and leaning back on the smooth, luxurious leather seats.
“Good, that is satisfactory.” She felt like the man was nodding at her as he spoke.
The Porsche drove smoothly through several turns and slopes, but Paula remained oblivious to where she was being taken. Instead, she focused on controlling her breathing and not panicking. Megan was counting on her. She had to get back alive to see her. Her back was breaking out in a sweat, and every now and then a shiver would run down her spine. Paula had been in many dangerous situations before but had never been kidnapped like this.
She had told her colleagues that she would be taking an indefinite amount of leave to Italy, but the company would most likely start emailing her again after a week. If something happened to her now, then those emails would get no response. Her secretary would still wait a day or two, trying to contact her, before any sort of investigation would be launched.
For the first time in her life, Paula Lindsay wished some random reporter was stalking her and documenting everything that was happening, having alerted the authorities about her kidnapping and Megan’s hostage situation.
After what felt like a painfully long time, the car stopped. The locks opened without with a soft click.
“You can remove the blindfold now, Ms. Lindsay.”
Complying swiftly, she took the cover off her eyes and stepped out of the car onto a herringbone block pavement, her heeled sandals giving off snappy clicks against the ground. The vehicle was parked in the middle of a street, multiple story buildings in aged yellow and dried red colors decorating the area, doubling as both residences and shops, with a few liquor stores in between. With some amusement, Paula noticed that there were solar panels on a lot of the roofs.
The people moved about silently, dressed like usual, but Paula could tell something was off about them. It was in the way they held themselves up, how their eyes met each other as if everyone knew everyone, and how they acted like they did not see a foreign woman getting out of a rare car everyone else would glance at.
“You go through there,” her blond handler said, gesturing with his hands towards the apartment they had parked against, “He is waiting.”
“What about my phone call you promised me?” Paula placed her hands on her hips, refusing to budge.
“That will come, you have my word,” said the blond, which caused Paula to raise an eyebrow. “No, you will let me have it now. I will be quick; you have my word.”
If the blond felt annoyed, he did not show it on his face. But he held out her phone, still firmly in his grip. “I know it is fingerprint unlocked. I don’t need to give you to unlock. Open it, and I will dial your contact.”
Paula bit her lip. They were cautious and very thorough, she had to give them that. “Fine,” she said and pressed her thumb against the fingerprint scanner on her phone. “Dial ‘Aunt Megan’ for me.”
The blond nodded, taking out a pair of earphones and plugging them into the phone as he dialed. Unlike modern trends, Paula’s phone still had a useful headphone jack, something she was regretting at the moment. This way, the phone would never leave her kidnapper’s hand, while she would still get her call. It was a brilliant move, Paula admitted to herself, taking the earphones from the man and putting them in.
The call connected almost instantly. “Hello, aunty?”
“Paula! Oh, thank heavens you’re okay! I wasn’t sure if this bitch was telling the truth or not, but I can see that you’re safe for now. Did anything happen yet? Where are you?”
“Slow down, Meg,” Paula twitched at her aunt’s outburst. “They promised me a call if I was good. It doesn’t seem like they want to kill me.” The blond holding her phone had the audacity to snort at this. “Anyways, I’m good for now. Everything will be fine, okay? Don’t give up just yet. You know who I am, don’t you?”
“Y-yes dear. Paula Lindsay, and you thrive each time you’re faced with a challenge.” The blond glanced at his watch impatiently, gesturing to Paula that time was running out. Taking the hint, she nodded.
“That’s damn right. Talk to you later. Love you, aunty.”
“Love you too, Paula,” Megan choked out over the line, and the call ended.
Paula felt her heart tremble, but all she could do now was to steel it and face the music. She followed the man through the old, polished wooden door, glancing at the brass doorknob before walking inside.
The corridor was dimly lit, relying on the afternoon sunlight streaming through the glass door on the other end to illuminate the black marble flooring and surroundings. Everything was impeccably clean, Paula noted as they reached the end of the hall. There were three doors at its terminal, two on her sides, and one in front with glass panels, letting the sunlight in.
The blond man gave three sharp knocks on the door to her right. There was clasp of a lock on the other side, and Paula was ushered into another sunlit room, her eyes now adjusted to the dim lighting, enabling her to see more details. The door
closed behind her suddenly, leaving her floundering for a moment or two, before Paula made herself focus, clenching her fists get a hold of herself.
The blond had left her inside the spacious room, which held two other people. The first was a tall woman with Asian features and tanned skin, her black hair tied in a high ponytail behind her head, wearing a black suit with a matching cravat. The other was a mature man, his groomed silver hair combed backward, with a full beard. He was dressed in an identical black suit as well, but the material seemed a bit different, his silk, emerald tie knotted in an Eldridge knot.
Paula was struck by the charisma he radiated, the man’s hazel eyes locking onto her as he stood up, his frame full and robust despite his age. Nonetheless, she met his intense gaze, refusing to blink or look away.
He was seated on a brown leather couch, one of the many well-crafted pieces of furniture in the room. Behind him was an old bookshelf, filled with volumes new and old, to its right another desk with a lamp and a typewriter. Windows to Paula’s left looked out onto a beautiful green garden, letting the sunlight stream in through patterned, translucent curtains, throwing shadows in the shape of roses onto the wooden floorboards. Behind her was a small counter, with a fully stocked bar behind it. All in all, it was a very cozy study room, one that Paula could admire.
“Ciao, Ms. Bianchi,” the man greeted, at last, stealing her attention. “I would call you Lindsay, but I did not call for Andrew’s daughter to be here. You are here as the granddaughter of a man who was one of my dearest friends, who shared my ideals, Giovani Bianchi.” His voice was deep, dark, and yet soothing. He spoke to Paula in a grandfatherly fashion, his English clear with a hint of a British accent.
“Hello,” Paula returned the respect she had received. “I would not say kidnapping is the right way to meet someone, is it?”
“My apologies for that. I am a man who lives in the shadows. For me to venture out into the light to meet someone, anyone would raise the suspicions of people who are not as friendly as me. So, what brings you to Italy?”
The Family Secret Page 13
