Giorgio Faletti - I Kill

Frank opened the car door. Morelli’s voice stopped him just as his foot hit the pavement. ‘Should we wait?’

‘No, you go. I’ll make my own way back somehow.’

Frank was about to walk away but then changed his mind. Even in such a hurry, he had to express his gratitude. ‘Uh, Claude?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Thank you, really. Both of you.’

‘For what? Go on. They’re waiting for you.’

Before he got out, Frank glanced knowingly at Xavier. ‘I’ll bet €1,000 against one of Roncaille’s calling cards that you can get back faster than you got here.’

He closed the door on Morelli’s protests. But as he heard the car race off, he smiled.

Jean-Loup’s capture and the end of the nightmare had created a sort of holiday cheer among the police of the Sûreté Publique. All the deaths in the criminal’s path had kept things solemn, but seeing him arrive at headquarters in handcuffs had been like finding a special present under the Christmas tree. And anyone who regretted that Nicolas Hulot was not there to share that moment kept it to himself. The fact that the arrest was due solely to Frank’s stroke of genius and that it had been carried out by him alone raised the general level of admiration for him and even created esteem where it hadn’t existed. He had smiled when smiles were required, shaken hands when they were offered along with congratulations, and had taken part in a joy that he could not completely share. He hadn’t wanted to be the only guy not smiling in the group photo. But he kept doing something that was becoming a ritual that day. He kept looking at his watch. And he had requested a car to get him to the airport as quickly as possible. And young Xavier hadn’t let him down.

He hurried towards the glass doors, which opened obligingly at his arrival. Froben’s familiar face greeted him as soon as he entered the departure lounge. The inspector snorted theatrically and mimed someone wiping sweat off his brow with one hand.

‘You have no idea what a great pleasure it is to see you, Agent Ottobre.’

‘I have a really good idea, don’t you worry,’ Frank answered in the same joking tone. They were both being perfectly sincere.

‘I was clutching at straws to find some way to convince him that no official intervention was necessary. I could barely manage to keep him from calling the President of the United States. I’m sure you can imagine. They missed their flight, but the next one to the States leaves in just under an hour. And I guarantee that General Parker won’t be kept off it.’

‘Everything you say about Parker is true. And believe me, I could tell you a few more things about him.’

As they spoke, they walked rapidly to the area of the airport where Froben had parked the Parkers. They reached the security check. The inspector showed his badge to the agents at the metal detectors, and a uniformed officer pointed to a side entrance that would bypass the line of passengers waiting to have their hand luggage checked. They turned left to go to the gates.

‘Now you must tell me something, Frank. How’s the other business going? Am I wrong, or is there news?’

‘You mean No One?’

‘Who else?’

‘We got him,’ said Frank in a neutral voice.

‘When?’ The inspector looked at him, astonished.

‘About an hour ago. He’s in jail.’

‘That’s how you tell me? Just like that?’

Frank turned to look at Froben. He waved vaguely in the air. ‘It’s over, Christophe. End of story.’ He couldn’t say anything more because they had reached the reserved room, guarded by a policeman.

Frank stopped outside the door that obscured General Nathan Parker, Helena and Stuart from his view. One of them was a burdensome part of his present; the other two were his future. He stood staring at the door as if it were transparent and he could see what those on the other side were doing. Froben put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Want any help, Frank?’

There was a protective note in the inspector’s voice. Froben’s delicate sensitivity contrasted sharply with his lumberjack’s appearance.

‘No, thanks. You’ve given me more than I could have hoped for. Now I have to fend for myself.’

The room was one of the many anonymous, comfortable VIP lounges scattered throughout all airports for business-class passengers. Armchairs and leather sofas, walls painted pastel colours, plush carpeting, a small cafeteria to one side, and reproductions of Van Gogh and Matisse paintings on the walls alongside a few travel posters framed in satinized steel. There was a sense of impermanence that one generally finds in that kind of room, with all those arrivals and departures breaking the false illusion of comfort.

Helena was sitting on a sofa leafing through a magazine. Stuart was beside her playing his Game Boy. The low coffee table in front of them had a couple of plastic cups and a soda can on its glass surface.

General Parker was standing on the other side of the room, his back to the door. He was staring at a reproduction of a crucifixion by Dalí hanging on the wall, his hands crossed behind his back. He turned his head as he heard the door open, looking momentarily puzzled at Frank as if he were searching for a name and a place to connect to the face.

Helena raised her head from the page and her face lit up when she saw him. Frank thanked heaven that the light of that gaze was meant for him, but he had no time to enjoy her smile. Parker’s rage exploded instantly. In two steps he positioned himself between them, with hatred hotter than fire blazing on his face.

‘I should have known that you were the cause of all this,’ he spluttered. ‘This is the last mistake you’ll ever make. I’ve already told you once, and now I’m confirming it. You’re finished. You’re so stupid, you thought I was bluffing. As soon as I’m back in the States, I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of you. I’ll-’

Frank stared fixedly at the red face of the man before him. There was a storm inside him crashing against the shore, shaking the wooden pier. But when Frank interrupted the general, his voice was so calm that it aggravated his adversary even more.

‘I’d calm down if I were you, general. At your age, the heart is an organ that needs to be treated with care. You wouldn’t want to risk a heart attack and rid me of your presence so easily.’

The look that passed over the old soldier’s face was one of a thousand flags waving, each moved by the winds of war. Frank saw with pleasure that, along with hatred, fury and disbelief, there was a shadow of doubt behind those blazing blue eyes. He might have begun to wonder where Frank found the nerve to speak to him that way. It was just an instant, and then Parker’s gaze was again filled with utter disdain. He imitated Frank and calmed his voice as well. The corners of his mouth lifted in a self-satisfied smile.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, young man. Unfortunately for you, my heart is solid as a rock. You, apparently, are having useless palpitations. And that’s another mistake. My daughter-’

Frank interrupted him again, which was not something to which General Nathan Parker was accustomed.

‘As far as your daughter and grandson are concerned -’ Frank paused a moment at the word grandson, lowering his voice so that the boy could not hear. Stuart was sitting on the sofa with his hands in his lap, watching the scene in wonder. His electronic toy, completely ignored, continued on its own: beep, beep, beep.

‘As far as your daughter and grandson are concerned, I would advise you to let them go visit the duty-free shop. It might be better if we keep the things we have to say to each other to ourselves.’

‘We have absolutely nothing to say to each other, Agent Ottobre. And my daughter and grandson don’t need to go to any goddamn duty-free shop. You’re the one who should walk out that door and get out of our lives for good. We’re getting on a plane to the United States. Let me repeat-’