Giorgio Faletti - I Kill

Jean-Loup answered, bending his head. ‘Hold on tight, Pierrot, I’m on my way. Don’t worry. I’m coming down to get you.’

Frank moved his eyes to where Jean-Loup was looking. He could see Pierrot, his hands grasping a small tree trunk on the side of the road. He was groping with his feet to find some ground but every time he tried to grip the rock, the fragile terrain crumbled and the boy found himself hanging in midair.

Below him, the steep slope plummeted down. It wasn’t really a sheer cliff, but if Pierrot let go he would fall and bounce like a rag doll straight into the ravine. If he let go, there would be no hope.

‘Hurry, Jean-Loup. I can’t hold on any more. My hands hurt.’ Frank could see how tired the boy was and he could hear the fear in his voice. But he also heard something else, the absolute faith that Jean-Loup, the deejay, the serial killer, the voice of the Devil, his best friend, would come to save him. Frank released the tension on the trigger slightly as he realized what Jean-Loup was doing.

He wasn’t running away. He was going to save Pierrot.

Escape had probably been Jean-Loup’s original intention and things had undoubtedly unfolded as Frank had imagined. He had waited in the tunnel until the commotion died down and he could slip out to evade the police one last time. Then he had seen Pierrot in danger. He had probably wondered why Pierrot was there, hanging from a tree calling for help in his terrified child’s voice. In a split second, he had sized up the situation and made a choice. Now he was acting on it.

Frank felt a dull anger rush through him, the result of his frustration. He had been waiting for that moment for so long and now that he had his gun trained on the man he had been hunting so desperately, he couldn’t shoot. He gripped his weapon more firmly than ever. Just beyond the notch of his pistol sights was the body of Jean-Loup, moving to the place where his young friend was hanging.

Jean-Loup reached Pierrot, dangling slightly below him. The hole that the boy’s fall had made in the terrain lay between them. It was too far for Jean-Loup to reach and pull him up.

‘I’m right here, Pierrot,’ Jean-Loup said to the boy in his warm, deep voice. ‘I’m coming. Stay calm and everything will be all right. But you have to hold on tight and stay calm. Understand?’

Despite the danger, Pierrot answered with one of his solemn nods. His eyes were huge with fear but he was certain that his friend would save him.

Frank watched as Jean-Loup put the bag he was carrying on the ground and started slipping off his belt. He didn’t know how Jean-Loup planned to get Pierrot out of danger. The only thing Frank could do was stand there watching, keeping him in the sights of his gun.

Jean-Loup had just finished removing his belt when they heard the loud hiss of a blowgun and a gust of air hit the ground next to him. He bent down suddenly and it was that instinctive movement that saved his life. Another hiss and gust of air hit exactly where he had been standing a fraction of a second earlier. Frank turned sharply and looked up. On the edge of the slope, standing next to the guard-rail was Captain Ryan Mosse, holding a huge automatic weapon with a silencer.

At that point Jean-Loup turned and did something incredible. He jumped into the mastic bushes and disappeared. Just like that. One moment he was there and the next he wasn’t. Ryan Mosse must have been just as surprised, but that didn’t stop him from firing a series of rapid shots into the bushes where Jean-Loup was hiding. He took out the empty clip and stuck in another. A second later, the gun was ready to fire. He started to climb down carefully, watching closely for any movement in the bushes near him. Frank moved the Glock in his direction.

‘Get out of here, Mosse. This has nothing to do with you. Drop your gun and leave. Or help. First, we have to think of that boy hanging down there. Then we’ll take care of everything else.’

The captain continued climbing down, gun in hand. ‘Who says this has nothing to do with me? I say it does, Mr Ottobre. And I’ll decide the priorities. First I get rid of this nutcase and then I’ll help you with the retard if you want.’

Frank had the massive body of Ryan Mosse in his sights. The desire to shoot him was strong, almost as strong as his desire to shoot Jean-Loup, despite the fact that the guy would risk his life to save a dog or a retard, as Mosse put it.

‘I said, put down that gun, Ryan.’

‘Or what? You’ll shoot?’ he said with a short, bitter laugh, dripping with sarcasm. ‘Then what’ll you tell people, that you killed a soldier from your own country to save a serial killer? Put down that flyswatter and learn how it’s done.’

Still aiming, Frank started moving as quickly as possible towards Pierrot. He had never found himself in a situation with so many variables.

‘Help, I can’t hold on any more!’

Pierrot’s mournful voice came from behind him. Frank lowered his gun and tried as quickly as possible to reach the point where Jean-Loup had been standing before. He felt the shrubs pulling at him like evil hands reaching from the bushes, thorns tearing at his trousers, branches wrapping around his ankles. He kept turning his head to check on Ryan Mosse’s movements. The soldier was still climbing cautiously down the hill, gun in hand, his suspicious eyes searching for Jean-Loup.

Suddenly, the bushes next to Mosse came alive. There was not the slightest warning. Whatever came out of the thicket was not the same man who had dived in for cover. It was not Jean-Loup but a demon kicked out of hell because the other demons were afraid of him. He had a supernatural tension, as if a ferocious animal had suddenly taken over his body, giving him the strength of its muscles and the sharpness of its senses.

Jean-Loup moved with agility, vigour and grace. With a powerful kick, the gun flew out of his adversary’s hand and landed far away, lost in the bushes. Mosse was a soldier, an excellent one, but the menace emanating from the man before him put them on the same level. Mosse, however, had one advantage over Jean-Loup. He could take his time. He didn’t care about the boy hanging from the tree over the ravine and he knew that his opponent was in a rush to save him. That urgency was what he planned to exploit.

He didn’t attack. He waited, taking one step back for every step Jean-Loup took towards him. As he moved, Jean-Loup continued talking to Pierrot.

‘Pierrot, can you hear me? I’m still here. Don’t be afraid. Just a second and I’ll be there.’ As he reassured the boy, he seemed to lose his concentration for an instant. And that’s when Mosse went for it.

Based on what happened afterwards, Frank was sure that it had been a tactical ploy by Jean-Loup to get Mosse to move. Everything happened in a flash. Mosse pretended to move to the left and threw a series of punches that Jean-Loup fended off with humiliating ease. Mosse stepped back. Frank was too far away to make out the details, but he thought he could see surprise on the captain’s face. He tried another couple of blows with his hands and then kicked as fast as lightning. It was the same move he had used on Frank the day they had fought in front of the house. Only Jean-Loup didn’t fall for it the way he had. Instead of blocking the kick and turning away, exposing himself to his adversary’s reaction, he stepped to the side as soon as he saw the foot coming and let Mosse throw his weight upwards. Then he dropped his right knee to the ground, slipped under Mosse’s leg in a flash, and blocked it with his left hand, pushing the captain’s body backward. He gave a terrifying punch to his adversary’s testicles, simultaneously pushing him forward.

Frank could hear Mosse’s moan of pain as he fell. He was not even all the way down in the bushes when Jean-Loup was over him with a knife. He pulled it out so fast that Frank thought he must have had it in his hand from the beginning and it was only just now visible. Jean-Loup bent over and disappeared in the bushes where Mosse’s body had fallen. When he got up, the animal that he seemed to carry inside him was gone and the blade of the knife was covered with blood.