Thank you, to my very loyal readers. It was quite difficult writing the previous chapter because it tackled heavy subject matter. This chapter will not be too heavy, but it is sentimental. Of course, the question in your heads is: "Will Patrick survive?" I'll have fun answering that.
In this chapter, I'm challenging your imagination and your sense of reality. Enjoy trying to separate fact from fantasy.
Disclaimer: You already know what I own and don't own. I also don't own Moulin Rouge.
Chapter 9: Borderless
"Thank you, Sergeant Haber, for bringing them back safely. All the information they gathered was sufficient. Red alert has been raised in all the zones." Commander Danilo Laguardia said, saluting the officer. Sergeant Haber, though, seemed unenthusiastic.
"It is my honor, sir." Sergeant Haber replied. "I saw Chartrand and Helena already, but…where is Patrick?" the commander asked. "I'm afraid…he turned himself over to Mr. Gray just to give Helena an escape." Karl replied, refusing to look at his commander.
"Good God," Commander Laguardia said, turning pale. In a few moments, he fell to the floor. Helena and Chartrand rushed to the scene in a blink of an eye. "Karl, what did you tell him?" Helena asked. "I told him that Patrick turned himself in." Karl replied, fanning the commander.
"That won't help…we have to bring him to an infirmary." Chartrand said. "Gentlemen, please get me a bottle of ammonia and some cotton. NOW," Helena said. A couple of guards ran off to get the said items. They wouldn't dare anger Inspector Gallego. She was an angel, but when pissed, her gaze could kill.
A few seconds later, a bottle of ammonia and balls of cotton were at her feet, Dabbing the cotton with the foul-smelling liquid, Helena had to cover her own nose. "Here we go, Commander." She said, placing the ball near his nose. Commander Laguardia started to stir, wrinkling his nose. "What was that disgusting smell?" he asked, "And what are all of you doing here?"
"You fainted, Commander. Inspector Gallego made you take a whiff of ammonia to wake you up." Sergeant Haber said. "Thank you, Inspector. Alright, give me some fresh air so that I can breathe." Danilo said, standing up, although his legs were shaky.
"Lieutenant Chartrand, Inspector Gallego, Sergeant Haber, you will have to meet with His Holiness regarding the situation. I will bring Commissioner Marino along. I think the Polizia di Stato can help." Commander Laguardia said, walking towards the façade of the building.
No longer did she sit by the stone-cold walls of the mountain manor, rather, she was looking out from the balcony of her flat in Rome. She was no longer the resigned, bespectacled maid, Victoria Ojeda. Once again, she was the dangerous, stern Polizia di Stato Inspector Helena Maria Gallego. But her toughness started to wear every minute she spent looking at the imposing dome of St. Peter's.
I'm sorry, Patrick. I can't save you…Chartrand told me that you didn't want anyone saving you.
A furry creature rubbed against her leg, whimpering. It was Feliz, her enthusiastic Siberian husky. Oftentimes, Helena herself had described this dog as a "human hiding in a wolf's body". She looked at her pet and knelt down to its level.
"Thank you for your concern, Feliz…these are tough times," she said, embracing Feliz, who in turn, snuggled against her shoulder. The dog seemed to understand his master's emotions. She was hopeless, trying to find a way out.
A nervous rookie read the memorandum to be given an officer. A senior officer happened to pass by. Luckily for the rookie, the officer was kind to those who were new in the station. "Who's that for?" she asked, smiling at the young man. "Inspector Helena Gallego. Can you tell me where her cubicle is?" he asked.
"Inspector Carla Fermi, at your service, kid. Keep going straight until you see the third door on the left. Just look for a fair-skinned lady with black curls and brown eyes. She may not look like a cop when you see her, but be careful. She's quite stern. She can be scary if she wants to," the older cop said.
"Umm…thanks. Thanks, Inspector Fermi. Officer Leonardo Silvestri," the young cop shook her hand as she left. "By the way, Leo, she just came from an important mission, so, don't give her a reason to haunt your nightmares." Inspector Fermi said, looking back.
The older cop left to buy a donut while Leonardo started walking. Finally, he found her table, but he was too shy to approach. Inspector Fermi was right. She doesn't look like a cop. When he thought she was not aware of his presence…
"You can come out now." Helena said, barely looking up from the stash of papers she was reading. Oh, shit. Leonardo thought, walking slowly. She stood behind the desk, smiling, but something seemed wrong. He could see that her brown eyes could just cry at any given moment.
The semblance of vulnerability calmed him down. Yes, she wouldn't bite. "Sit down." Helena said, her long fingers gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. Leonardo sat down and gave the memorandum from Commissioner Marino.
"Meeting…1800 hours…Vatican...with Haber, Marino, Laguardia, Chartrand and His Holiness…" Helena scanned through the paper. "Thanks for bringing this in. May I know your name?" she asked, putting down the paper and looking him in the eye. He could hear the room bustling with activity and he could hear some equipment being strapped on.
"Leonardo Silvestri, Inspector," he said. "Alright, Officer Silvestri, tell the Commissioner that I'll be at the meeting. For the meantime…" she said, taking out a gun and loading a cartridge into it, "I'll be out." He watched her wear a vest and tie her hair, as well as strapping her guns and making sure they were working well.
It was a wonderful sight, until…
"I don't know what you're looking at…but go to Marino now. He'll kill you if he doesn't get a reply." Helena said, aware that he was staring at her. "And when you're done reporting to him, get yourself some action," she said, walking off soundlessly even in her heavy boots.
The rookie went out and reported to Marino, who was (thankfully) not cruising around his office sitting on the swivel chair. One look at the stunned rookie and he knew that Inspector Gallego had unknowingly snared another young, innocent officer. The commissioner let him sit in front of his desk.
"She will come to the meeting. She just left for some operation," Leonardo said, nervously looking at his superior. "So, how do you find her?" Commissioner Marino asked, with a glint in his eye. "At first, she seemed scary until she spoke. She's like an angel…although--" Leo said.
"She's got an attitude, yes. Helena's a rebel. I've got news for you, Officer. She has a boyfriend. According to some people, he can make a man doubt his sexuality. Heck, even Helena herself can do that." Marino said, a mean grin on his lips. "Really, Commissioner? Do you have a picture?" Officer Silvestri asked.
"So, you want to test yourself? Very well, then," Marino went to his fireproof filing cabinet and produced a picture of Patrick McKenna. He laid it on the table for the rookie to see. Leonardo stared long and hard at the photograph. Lush, reddish-brown hair, bright blue eyes and a smile lighted up the subject's already bright face. After five seconds, Leonardo's jaw almost dropped.
"I knew it!" Marino said, laughing as the officer clutched the picture and examined it with a distraught look. "Too bad he's not in Rome," the commissioner continued. "He looks familiar…I saw him once!" Officer Silvestri said, his green eyes wide as saucers. "And where did you last see him?" Marino asked, an eyebrow raised.
"In a mountain retreat near Genoa…"
So that rookie KNEW something about Patrick? What a coincidence! Helena thought. It was 11:45 PM, and she was at the desk in her room, with Feliz staying still at her feet. Instead of a laptop and a printer gracing her desk, there was a penholder, together with a sheet of paper. The balcony door was open, letting in a cool breeze. She was looking at a framed photograph on her table. It was of her and Patrick on their first (and only) date, in Caffe della Pace, no less.
I wonder how we even got here. I never knew that following an oil trail would lead me to him. I don't know why his pain even wracked me and almost tore me apart. He was a criminal…but I just had to take him to the hospital. "Do you remember the first time he came here?" Helena asked Feliz, scratching the dog's head. A soft whimper was heard, meaning 'yes'.
The burns…the cuts…they're all part of the past now. I don't know how almost everything vanished within a year or so, but he's like a muddy floor turned spotless. He lost hope, but I wanted him to keep living. Right now, I think I'm failing in that mission. I don't know what drew him to me…but whatever it was…it was too strong for me to think of letting him go.
I just HAD to take him to the hospital. I just HAD to argue with my cousin. I just HAD to walk around in the shopping center in sunglasses and baggy clothing just to buy him underwear…but I have no regrets…even if I did tell him that I wanted to beat the crap out of him.
Just those thoughts formed vivid pictures in her head. It was as if she had filmed all those important scenes with her eyes and was now viewing it within the confines of her mind. She could still remember the scent of the oils which bathed him. She could still remember the Feliz's enthusiasm upon seeing a new friend: Patrick.
"You remember when you first saw Patrick, right?" Helena asked Feliz, who was getting rather sleepy. At the sound of his other master's name, Feliz's ears immediately perked up. "Of course you do," Helena said, chuckling.
An empty sheet of paper was sitting patiently on her desk when a gust of wind turned over the cup where her pens sat. A black Pilot G-Tec fell forward. This was the lady's pen of choice, besides her Parkers and her colorful Staedtlers stowed away in a cabinet.
Instead of fretting over the possibility of the pen's inability to write (especially if it falls with great force), Helena took the cap off and wrote the name "Carlo Ventresca" in script. Her handwriting was made with bold, straightforward strokes. Looking at the side, Helena found her canine companion sleeping.
Carlo Ventresca…the pseudonym he used to get a job. I don't know if he had done well, but I think Mr. Franco would be happy enough to have an employee with a bright face and a sharp mind…Piazza Navona's very own 'Father Chick Magnet'.
We were happy enough to live as cohabiting individuals, just friends. He said that I saved him from himself; he saved me from being killed by brawling drunks. Those incidents were minor compared to total losses of light in our lives.
Never did I know that one of those dark moments in our lives would draw us closer.
"Trial"
This was the second word Helena wrote on the paper. Those days were not only turbulent for her mind, more so for her heart. She had not experienced a very close companionship since setting foot in Rome. Bella may have been helpful as a best friend, but Patrick was different. Very different.
Hearing about his excommunication was difficult. All she could do was to relish whatever time was left for them. For all she knew, both of them could fall for others. Before his trials, she promised to stand by him whatever happened.
He became a media luminary, a prisoner of the Sistine. I'm grateful that Attorney Bellucci took the case and became Patrick's lawyer. It was difficult for the three of us. I could remember my heart almost skipping a beat when Bella found out that I was the one who stayed with Patrick. I thought she'd kill me or turn me in…
"How could you not tell me…that you were hanging out with the hottest guy in the world?"
That is definitely unlikely to come from an officer's mouth. But it was not Bella's knowledge of the matter that made me afraid…it was the separation. I could still remember the icy hue of his eyes when he woke up on the first day of staying in the Vatican once more.
Every second that passed, I was falling…very hard. I tried using reason, but I guess reason does not block the heart from beating for another. Even if he was considered a criminal, among other things, I could not help it. Even when he was declared guilty, what did I care about, anyway?
On one of those nights, he came home, and at the right time. I was sick. The next day...I was sure that he probably caught a high fever. I thought his words were delirious; they were true.
"Kiss."
Just doing so could've been trouble for Patrick, had he not been dispensed without his knowledge the night before the kiss. Oh no, don't remind me of those lips…I might die trying to remember the sensation. Untouched lips are the best; because they were for you from the very beginning. That kiss cemented whatever I felt for him.
Her drooping eyelids were a sign that she needed to sleep already. Feliz was already snoozing by her feet. She went off the chair and lay in bed. Every important event played in her dreams. How could they now? They were etched in her heart.
Three days.
For that duration, he was chained to a stone wall. He ate only three spoonfuls of watery gruel and drank only half a cup of water every day, both of which were smuggled in by the torturer he had charmed. Unable to move, numb and sore, the chains kept him away from causing trouble. Mr. Gray had sent out some of his goons to search for Helena and Chartrand. Chartrand had dyed his hair light brown and had worn brown contacts ever since. Helena was protected by the police.
Gray's nitrogen-free explosive only needed some finishing touches. He was ready for the ultimate act of revenge…who could stop him? He has connections with the Genoese police and nobody here could help me…not even Natalia would. I don't want to put anyone's life in danger. Let me die…it would be my reparation for all my wrongs.
Patrick looked at the window directly in front of him. As if the iron bars were not enough, high-voltage electric wires criss-crossed the pane. If there was only a way for me to say goodbye to Helena before he finally kills me. His cynical, depressed psyche told him.
Just two seconds after that thought, he mentally kicked himself. Helena…there…you have an incentive for living! That's it! It then sunk into him that memories were fuel to keep people alive. As long as one keeps throwing them into the fire, there would be enough to keep anyone living, even with 12 lashes on his back, starvation, dehydration and lack of sleep.
This may be hard, but my excommunication was much harder. I treated every day of living in Avia as if it were a step closer to coming home. I never expected to come home so quickly. I was to be sent for this mission…my state now is the effect of that mission.
But before the mission, I could remember Helena's eyes being the size of platters when she saw me in the Piazza. I should have taken a picture of the priceless look on her face. Nonetheless, she was still the most beautiful creature in the world right then.
It was embarrassing that there were two people staring at each other in the middle of a hostage crisis.
I was struck by a barrage of, ehem, warm words from Helena. I found out later that she was so surprised. At least, even in the fray, I saved her from a sniper…and shot him in the shoulder. He'd have to kill me before he can even get close to her.
"Hey, gunslinger boy, I'd like you to meet someone…Yes, you!"
I met him face-to-face, and I hope he'd never try to take down the force again. And here comes the Commissioner…telling us about an infiltration mission…but none of those left much of an impression on me. What I can clearly remember…
…is the date.
Oh, yes...if almost falling from the Colosseum and ordering pistachio ice cream from Caffe della Pace counts. Bella getting drunk, Chartrand calling me 'Patricia'…and the busted bulb which caused a panic in the club.
There's always calm before a storm…and the mission was the storm.
There was fury in his heart when he remembered Mr. Gray's attempt to rape Helena. He made her look like a woman from the Montmartre district of Paris. A red dress, a pair of red shoes, ghostly white skin and scarlet lips became her costume. Whatever that movie was…
He confessed his identity so that his companions would be given time to escape. Of course, he expected Mr. Gray wanting to murder him. So far, the monster was half-successful but if Patrick just kept the flames of his will running, nothing could kill him.
Looking at the stars which dotted the clear mountain night, Patrick wished that he could find a way to come home. Whichever opportunity presented itself to him…he would take.
I have to close my eyes again…alright…what picture formed in my head? The dream…where she fell of the Colosseum…and I jumped after her, and she told me to shut up and just kiss her. It reminds me of the time we were in the sea with Chartrand.
I feel light…as if I'm floating. I haven't eaten well for days, and I haven't slept well, so…no, no…don't let it be…am I dead?
Helena was awake, looking at the view presented by the balcony. The paper was crumpled, sent to the garbage bin. Feliz was also awake, watching over his master, afraid that she may do something irrational out of fear and worry. "Patrick…I hope you hear me." She said, standing by the balcony door. At that, a strong gust of wind swirled around the room.
Helena fell to the ground, unconscious, barely breathing. Feliz saw white smoke and fine powder leave Helena's mouth. The wind died down, and Feliz ran to his master, who was lying on the floor. He was poking her with his cold nose, howling, trying to make her wake up.
Helena! WAKE UP! What's going on? Anybody, help! For now, all the dog could do was to guard his defenseless master.
Why am I flying? Helena thought, as she felt herself being carried by a strong wind at an unbelievable speed. She could see the lights of Rome flicker like fireflies under her feet. Where am I going? She kept going north, until she could see a familiar coastline, some bouncing cetaceans and the freezing mountain air bite her cheek.
As she flew at breakneck speed, a specter joined her. She could not see the appearance of the other being since it flew at a higher speed than she did. Without warning, they created a huge collision in the sky. In a few moments, the two ghostly beings were in a tight embrace.
"Patrick..." she said, intangible tears coming out of her nonexistent eyes. "Helena…" his voice was nothing more than the wailing wind. "He's sending his men to find you and Chartrand. You have to take care of yourself. Don't worry about me. I'll have a plan soon enough," he continued, holding her close. "No…we'll send people who can save you. If it would require me to save you, then I would." Helena said.
"It's too dangerous. I won't let you get hurt, Helena. Your life--" Patrick was cut off by the impossible sensation of her lips on his. "I've gone through enough trouble in my life. I'd enjoy at least one more just to see you alive," she said, breaking her lips from his.
"For now…remember me…remember all that we have done…wait for me. You'll be saved."
No sooner had Helena said those words, Patrick rushed to be in her embrace for what seemed to be the last time. The moment their eyes locked onto each others, every memory came into place. Scenes flashed before their very eyes: Mr. Gray's attempt…the escape from the manor…Patrick's imprisonment.
In a moment that seemed like eternity, the forces of reality started pulling them back to their original forms. "I'll see you again…" was Helena's last breath to him. With the same breakneck speed that pushed them to meet, forces pulled them back to their respective dwellings.
White smoke once again engulfed the room and diffused into a prone mass on the floor. The canine noticed a change in the body's color. From an ashen gray, it resumed its healthy hue. It could see, though, a red dust that seemed unaffected by the small gusts which entered the room.
Clutching her head, Helena opened her eyes, only to find Feliz's probing nose just an inch above her. "Alright…that was just a dream," she said, sitting up. The moment she moved, she saw the red dust fly away from her in a spiraling path towards the heavens. "Feliz…something's telling me that something happened while I was asleep."
There was, Helena…there was. Feliz thought, looking into the darkness together with his master.
It was 1 'o clock in the morning, an unlikely time for a certain office to be open…but this time, it was. The desk lamp was giving off a blinding white light, focused on a stash of papers on a desk. Behind the desk was a wide-awake Commissioner Marino.
"So…you guys were held back by your corrupt commissioner back in Genoa?" he asked, looking at the young policeman in front of him. "I'm afraid so…but, I did see Mr. McKenna walking around as I secretly gathered information."
"Officer Silvestri, I want to be assured of your—" the commissioner was cut off by the young man. "If you allow me, Commissioner, let me do something to help him. It's the least I can do for not doing my job well back in Genoa." Leonardo said, emerging from the darkness and pleading to Commissioner Marino.
"Is this because you fell for Helena? Or Patrick, for that matter?" Commissioner Marino asked, one eyebrow raised. "No…I just want to make sure the Vatican doesn't get bombed, as you said…" Leonardo said, a memory suddenly entering his head. "Why the interest in the seat of the Church?" Marino probed him some more.
"My grandfather's elder brother lives there," Leonardo said, dropping his words softly. "What's your relative's name?" Marino asked further, making sure that the officer's loyalty was to the Polizia di Stato. "It would be rude to say his name without a proper title…but his name is Saverio. Saverio Mortati." Leonardo said, turning around to hold the doorknob.
Had Commissioner Marino suffered from a heart condition, he would have been dead on the spot. THE POPE? He gulped immediately and called the young man back. "Do all that is in your power to save those whom you wish to save." Marino took out an envelope and handed it over to the officer. "Do you remember what Patrick looks like?" "Yes, signore; he is unmistakable," the young cop answered.
"Catch the next flight to Genoa. As long as Patrick's alive, you still have time."
Officer Silvestri was wondering about his police uniform, which lay crumpled and messy in his apartment. He had left home in haste, cramming his wallet, his passport, Marino's envelope, four changes of clothing, a rosary, sunglasses and a hat in his messenger bag.
The young officer looked like he came out of a tornado when he came to the Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport. His phone rang. How did he get my number? It was Marino. "Yes?" Silvestri asked, going to a secluded corner.
"L'incontrerò a Terminal 1. C'è un volo di Alitalia a 3:00. Aspettarmi, stampo la sua carta d'imbarco. Sarò lì non appena posso. [1]" Marino barked on the other line, with the sound of a printer in the background. He hung up without saying another word.
Leonardo looked at the sign hovering above his head. Terminal 1. He smiled to himself saying, "I'm already here, commissioner."
Five minutes later, Commissioner Marino came, wearing incongruous sunglasses together with his black-and-white coat and skinny tie ensemble. He seemed to be more of an FBI agent than an Italian police commissioner.
Marino found the short, lightly-tanned brunette standing like a pole in the middle of the terminal. "Here you go. Good luck," he said, with a heavy pat on Silvestri's back. The boarding pass was now in Leonardo's hand. Marino was nowhere to be found. Leonardo waited.
This is for you…Your Holiness. This is for you, Patrick. Officer Silvestri thought, entering the gate at 2:45 AM.
During the wee hours of day, Patrick did not see the blue dust which went through the electric wires which criss-crossed the window of his cell. He was too exhausted, too drained to move, to think, or to even look.
The rosy dawn came upon the mountains and the sun shed light on the dark, damp stone room. With light opening his eyes, Patrick heard drumbeats in his ear. The sound of war…I don't know if I have a chance to live, but I'm thankful to have woken up to see the light of day. Only God can decide my fate.
With a deafening creak on its rusty hinges, the great wooden door slowly opened. Evil stepped into the room, complete with a smug smirk and a key spinning on his finger.
[1] "I'll meet you at Terminal 1. There's an Alitalia flight at 3:00. Wait for me, I'm printing out your boarding pass. I'll be there as soon as I can."
I'm really sorry for putting this up quite late, because of school and all, I had problems squeezing some writing time into my schedule.
I leave you with three questions:
1. Is Leonardo Silvestri a hero…or a double-agent?
2. What's Gray's ultimate plan?
3. How does Patrick fit into the puzzle?
