Harry Turtledove - The Gladiator

Annarita had all she could do to keep a straight face. Her father's expression looked a little strained, too. Gianfranco was stealing big chunks of the plot from a TV thriller that was on a couple of weeks before. He'd seen it, and so had the Crosettis. His mother and father evidently hadn't.

"Well!" his father said. "I'm going to tell those bunglers a thing or two-you'd better believe I am. And the first thing I'm going to do is tell them you're here and you're safe, and no thanks to them." He stormed off toward the telephone.

"I'm glad they didn't keep you." Again, Annarita talked past Gianfranco's mother, who would think she meant the kidnappers. Gianfranco would know her they included everybody in the home timeline.

He spread his hands. "I couldn't do anything about it any which way."

Her father wasn't just talking on the phone. He was shouting: "Comrade Mazzilli here. What? I woke you up? Too bad! I've got news worth waking you up for, you lazy good-for-nothing. Gianfranco's home!… What do you mean, am I sure? You blockhead, he's standing right here in front of me. And a whole fat lot of help getting him back you people were, too!"

He listened for a moment, then slammed the phone down. "That's telling them, Father!" Gianfranco said.

"Those idiots said they'd send somebody over to take your statement," Comrade Mazzilli said. "I think they're ashamed of themselves for not knowing what's what. They've got plenty to be ashamed about, too."

"I think we'd better go back to bed," Annarita's father said. "Gianfranco, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you again." That was bound to be nothing but the truth.

"Me, too," Annarita said, which made Gianfranco's face light up in a way her father's words hadn't. "Good night."

"Good night," Gianfranco said with a wry grin. "At least you get to go back to sleep. Me, I've got to talk to the Security Police."

"You're right! I should have told them to come in the morning," his father said. "I'll go call them back."

"Never mind. I'll deal with it now, and then I'll sleep for a week," Gianfranco said.

"Good night," Annarita said again. She and her parents went back to their own apartment. She wondered if she would be able to fall asleep again after the excitement in the middle of the night. As it turned out, she had no trouble at all.

The man trom the Security Police scowled at Gianfranco. "Where exactly in the wall was this stinking trap door?" he demanded.

"I don't know," Gianfranco said.

"What do you mean, you don't know? What kind of answer is that?"

"It's the truth," Gianfranco lied.

"How can it be the truth? You went through the miserable thing, didn't you?"

"Sure. Of course."

"Well, then?" the Security Police officer said triumphantly.

"Well, then-what? This guy had an arm around my neck. I was backwards to the wall when I went through the door. If I had eyes in my rear end, I could tell you more."

"Plenty of people keep their brains there." The officer yawned. It was half past three in the morning. He looked like a man who wanted to be asleep in bed, not grilling a kidnapping victim who'd appeared out of thin air. With a sigh, he went on, "So where did you go from there?"

"I don't know, not really," Gianfranco answered. "I already told you, they put a blindfold on me after that."

"Why didn't they just knock you over the head?" No, the officer wasn't happy about being here in the middle of the night.

"Beats me," Gianfranco said. "You could ask them yourself if you'd managed to catch them."

"As far as we can see, they might have disappeared by magic, not by your stupid trap door," the man from the Security Police grumbled. He was righter than he knew. One of Crosstime Traffic's biggest advantages was that nobody from this alternate really believed in other worlds. Travel from here to the home timeline might as well have been magic. With another sigh, the officer asked, "When did they let you go?"

"This morning. Yesterday morning, I mean." Gianfranco yawned. His mother had brought espresso for the Security Police officer and for him. Despite the strong coffee, he was still very tired. Too much had happened with not enough sleep.

"You should have let us know you were free as soon as they did," the officer said.

Gianfranco just looked at him. The officer turned red and made a production out of lighting a cigarette. The Security Police called on you. If you were in your right mind, you didn't call them. Everybody knew that-even Security Policemen. The only reason Gianfranco's father, a loyal Party man, had told them Gianfranco was back was to let them know what a bunch of blundering idiots they were.

After blowing out a long plume of smoke, the man from the Security Police asked, "How did you get back to Milan?"

"I stuck out my thumb," Gianfranco answered. "One truck took me as far as Bologna. I got another lift there, and it took me here." Hitchhiking was against the law. That didn't mean people didn't do it, even if it was dangerous. And if he said he'd taken the train, they could ask who'd seen him at the station and find out if there were records of his ticket. Thumbing a ride didn't leave a paper trail.

The officer tried his best: "What were the names of the men who picked you up? What were they carrying?"

"I think one was Mario and one was Luigi." Gianfranco pulled ordinary names out of the air-or out of what the Crosstime Traffic people had told him while he was under their drugs. "One of them said he was carrying mushrooms. The other guy didn't talk much. He just smoked smelly cigars."

"Right." The Security Policeman sucked in smoke himself. He scribbled notes. Would people start checking to see if a trucker named Luigi-or maybe Mario-who smoked cigars was on the road yesterday? Did Crosstime Traffic have men who looked like Mario and Luigi? He wouldn't have been surprised.

"Anyway, I'm here now and I'm fine," he said.

His father stepped in and added, "No thanks to the Security Police."

"We did what we could, Comrade. We're not done yet," the officer said. "We'll catch those villains-you wait and see."

Gianfranco knew better. His father didn't, but he also didn't seem much impressed. "I'll believe it when I do see it," he said.

"We work for the safely of the stale and of its people," the Security Police officer said.

"Shouldn't those be the other way around?" Gianfranco asked.

The officer sent him a hooded look. Who do you think you are, to doubt that the state comes first? The man didn't ask that out loud, but he might as well have. In the Italian People's Republic, the question was only too reasonable. The state had come first here for many, many years. But Gianfranco was just back from an Italy where that wasn't so, an Italian Republic that left the people out of its name but took them more seriously than this one did. He hadn't been able to stay there long, but the attitude rubbed off. Maybe the drugs should have fixed that too, so he didn't pop off.

"Can we finish this another time, Comrade?" his father asked the officer. "Gianfranco has to be tired, and so do you. Could you let him have a little rest, now that he can sleep in his own bed again?"

"Well, all right." The man from the Security Police didn't seem sorry to have an excuse to go home-and Gianfranco's father was a Party wheel, even if he wasn't a great big one. The officer got to his feet. "I'll report to my superiors, and we'll see if they have more questions to ask. Ciao." He left the apartment.

"Grazie, Father," Gianfranco said around another yawn. "I am tired."

"No wonder, after everything you've been through," his father answered. Gianfranco had been through more and stranger things than his father imagined. On the other hand, his father's imaginings had to be scarier. "I don't know what I would have done if you didn't come home safe."