The End of the World 4/11
Luca Arnone, or as the underworld knew him, the Shadow, had arrived to Buenos Aires only about an hour ago but was already working. Efficiency was one of his trademarks; reliability was the other. At the age of 38 he was already a veteran on the field of spying, tailing and all the other things related. His services, regardless of their price, were always needed in some part of the globe. He was never out of work.
The task he had gotten this time interested him. A man who called himself Dr Golding had contacted him; Luca doubted it was his real name. His customers seldom went by their true identities. He had talked to the man only once, and based on that conversation, which had taken place a few weeks ago, the man had hired him to follow a certain woman. Luca had been pleased to get such an easy but well-paid job for a change. The persons he usually was hired to follow weren't so easy to even find. Looking forward for the job as he was he had been disappointed when Dr Golding had cancelled their deal. Luca hadn't asked why; it wasn't his business. He was used to the fact that people had second thoughts.
Luckily, yesterday Dr Golding had contacted him again and renewed their contract. Now, as he had
arrived to the warm and generous city of Buenos Aires Luca thanked him for changing his mind.
He was sitting in a cafe, going through the notes made from his first conversation with Dr Golding. He didn't know the woman's name or what she looked like, but he had her address. It was more than enough.
Luca had gotten specific instructions of how to handle this case. He wasn't allowed to cause any kind of inconvenience to the woman, nor was he permitted to contact her in person. All he was ordered to do was to follow her if and when she left her home and report to Dr Golding. Any kind of observation, which would in any way intrude upon her privacy, was strictly forbidden.
Never leave for tomorrow what you can do today being his motto Luca got up, left money on the table to cover both his drink and generous tip and left. He jumped into his rented car and headed for the direction of the address only stored in his memory.
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Clarice lay on the bed of their very rarely used guestroom. She had no interest what so ever in sleeping alone in the king-sized four-poster nor was she eager to spend another night on the living room sofa. The arrangement she had come up with wasn't the most comfortable but it would have to do until she was able to think something else. At the moment, she wasn't.
She was a wreck and she knew it, thank you very much. Something had died inside her when Dr Lecter had walked out on her, and she wasn't sure at all whether that something could be brought back to life or not. The feeling she spent most of her time with was total numbness. Only from time to time a wave of pain beyond any kind of description washed over her, leaving her shaken and empty. Between those mind-stabbers she felt nothing and was quite content with that. She didn't need or want that kind of agony she had experienced on the days after his leaving. Sure, all her feelings and angst would probably burst out on some beautiful day but until that she was glad about her emotional anesthetic.
As she lay there she came to think that she should probably leave the house for a change. After he had been gone she hadn't as much as put her nose out of the house, and it started to show; there was only the light in the fridge. Of course she could send the maid to the grocery – if she hadn't kicked her and all the other servants out. Poor maid, how could she have known that the master of the house had left; she had only done her job and laid the table for two. Too bad Clarice hadn't felt very understanding at the moment - She had thrown a fit and everybody except herself out. It was interesting, though, how she wasn't even embarrassed over the way she had acted. She just didn't care.
Despite her emotional ignorance she couldn't help thinking constantly what had went wrong. The
question, in which she was afraid she would never get a satisfying answer, tormented her on her every waking hour. It was tiring and frustrating but there was nothing she could have done to stop herself. No matter how much she reasoned herself she wasn't able to keep the self-accusations away. The constant guilt and regret because of something she wasn't even able to name made her weak and being weak made her dislike herself. That kind of opinion naturally lengthened the list of her negative qualities, which, she was convinced, had driven him away. Her situation was difficult to say the least.
Sighing she got up and made her way to the bathroom. On the way she decided that she would walk to the store; maybe the exercise would ease her being at least a little bit.
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Luca had parked his car a few houses from the one he was supposed to keep an eye on. He had been
sitting there for only about an hour, smoking and drinking coke, when the front door opened and a figure stepped out. He squinted to see the woman who had came out but the afternoon sun shone too brightly in his eyes. Without any kind of fuss he watched as she walked down the pavement in the opposite direction, away from him. She seemed to be buried in her thoughts; her gait was slow and not altogether straight.
After the woman had gained a lead of about 120 feet Luca got out of his car and locked the doors.
Lighting a cigarette he started to follow her, keeping his distance but not losing sight of her.
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Clarice walked slowly. The bright sun made her head ache and the heat was oppressive. The rich scents she usually enjoyed made her nauseous. All in all the brilliant idea to walk into the grocery now started to suck big time. True, she could turn around and go back to get the car but… Like it would matter. She could just as well walk now that she was at it. Who gave a fuck anyway?
Distracted in her thoughts as she was she didn't notice the curb before she tripped over because of it.
Thanks to her reactions like those of a cat she didn't fall down completely but landed on her knees.
"FUCK!!!!"
She threw the keys and wallet in her hand to the street.
A man walking on the other side of the street gave her a very slow look. As a return, she gave him the finger.
"What are you looking at?!"
The man scampered away without looking back.
Did she know she was acting foolishly? Of course. She knew she was acting in a way which never would have done when Dr Lecter around, and perhaps it was the very reason behind her manners. She needed something to convince herself that she was still alive and able to feel something – if nothing else but physical pain and anger caused by it. Under the time she had been without him she had successfully buried herself in her pain and misery. As a result she felt she wasn't able to breathe as she spent her time in emotional numbness and denial.
Sighing heavily she gathered her belongings and rose. She would have much to do with herself before she would be able to function normally again.
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Luca watched the woman with an interest as she was throwing her things around the street. That was a fierce one, he mused. Oh, there goes the finger to an innocent passer-by. Fierce, indeed.
For a while he thought about helping her up, then dismissed the idea as he heard Dr Golding's metallic, slightly threatening voice in his head.
Do not contact her in any way. Do not let her know you even exist.
The customer is always right, though it bothered him to see a beautiful woman left to manage on her own. She seemed to handle it well, though; after a few moments on the ground she took her keys and wallet and got up. She continued as if nothing had happened. She might have favored her other foot slightly but it was probably just an illusion.
After a while they, Clarice first and Luca following, arrived to her destination. Luca surmised it might look odd if he just stood outside so he followed her inside. He was convinced that the woman hadn't noticed him so he felt pretty confident about going to a small, enclosed space at the same time as her. The quiet clings from the doors announced both of them.
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Clarice walked between the shelves and picked a can from here and a bottle from there. She didn't feel like buying anything fancy; without Hannibal and the servants the fine products would be left unused. She had never been a wizard in the kitchen.
After she had got the things she wanted she paid for them and headed out. On the door she realized she had left her wallet on the counter. Cursing to herself she turned around.
It hurts surprisingly much to hit another person, especially when your shoppers fall right to your toes.
"Damn!"
She glanced at the man she had bumped into, mumbled her apologizes and kneeled down to pick up her groceries. Some part of her wondered why the man had looked so scared; the statement on his face had looked like he had seen something he wouldn't and perhaps shouldn't have.
As she picked up her things she heard how the man took a few steps, then stopped, hesitated for a while and came back. On the next moment he was kneeling next to her.
"Let me help you with those." His voice was melodious and deep.
She'd be damned if she weren't even able to clean her own messes. "It's ok, I can handle it."
"I'm sure you can. I insist." Did she hear amusement in his voice?
Now irritated, Clarice raised her look to the stubborn man. He was about 40 in years, dark and probably quite tall. His hair was so black it seemed to absorb light. His eyes were black, too, or that's how they seemed in the bright afternoon sun. He hadn't shaved in a day or two; short stubble covered his jaw. He was probably from some Mediterranean country though it was difficult to say for sure. There was something in him which was impossible to categorize on that instant. All in all, hadn't she been so heart-broken she would have noticed the man was quite attractive.
"Really, it's ok." She tried to sound as convincing as possible.
Surprisingly, the man gave in. A flicker of something was shown in his eyes; guilt or regret, perhaps, though Clarice didn't understand why.
"Ok, ok. I'm sorry for bumping into you like that." He straightened his trim body and quickly walked away.
Somehow, Clarice had the feeling he meant it in more ways than one.
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By the time she got home she had already forgotten the strange man. After she had unpacked her bags, she made herself a drink, if vodka on the rocks fills the definition, and headed for the living room.
The room was pleasantly cool and dark; the afternoon sun didn't shine in there. Clarice sat on the sofa and turned the radio on. The song playing was ABBA's "Knowing Me, Knowing You." She closed her eyes and relaxed.
…No more carefree laughter
Silence ever after
Walking through an empty house, tears in my eyes
Here is where the story ends, this is goodbye
Clarice couldn't escape the similarities of the song and her situation. Had their story really ended? The music made shivers ran down on her spine.
Knowing me, knowing you
There is nothing we can do
Knowing me, knowing you
We just have to face it, this time we're through
Breaking up is never easy, I know, but I have to go
Knowing me, knowing you, it's the best I can do…A sudden fit of annoyance filled her. Was it? Was it, to accept the fact that he had just left, the best she could do? Hell no.
After a while of thinking about the matter Clarice couldn't understand why she hadn't even thought of this earlier. She deserved an explanation, a reason. Why on earth would she settle for her so called destiny? It was not like she would have done so before. Damn it, Dr Lecter himself had called her a warrior. What a fine warrior she was now; drowned in self-pity and self-disgust. That would change now; she swore to herself that she would find and confront him.
Were he able to look her in the eyes and tell her that it was over, that he didn't love her anymore… Then she would leave and agree with the song; there really would be nothing to do. She understood that she couldn't force him to love her but what she could force him to do was to tell her why he had left.
He owes me that much.
It would probably a mission next to impossible to find him if he wished the opposite. But were there
a person who would be able to do it Clarice was the one. After all, she was a trained FBI-agent and had intimate (to say the least) knowledge about him. She would have all her life to find him.
Too bad the clock was ticking at a frantic and relentless pace.