He lies on the Jester's cart - 28 pt.1
He’s ready, wearing a light blue shirt and the same dark raincoat he wore last night. I’ve washed my face, neck, and armpits. I feel refreshed, but I don’t like the smell of the soap. The clothes I’m wearing are old, but it doesn’t matter. It’s fine.
- Are we all set then? – he says enthusiastically.
- Yes, we’re set.
A thunderclap enters through the closed window. The glass vibrates powerfully.
- Do you have an umbrella? – I don’t have one, so I spread my hands to show him.
He walks ahead into the hallway.
- Listen, I’ve thought about it. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in with me.
- What do you mean? I have to go in.
- Yes, that’s clear. It’s just that… – He walks into the living room and disappears from my sight.
- I absolutely have to go in. – I don’t understand what he means, and it irritates me.
He reappears, handing me a dark blue umbrella.
- I think this should work. – he says, walking past me again. – But do you have any idea what he might have set aside for you? Even a vague one?
- No, I have no idea at all.
- So we’re practically going in blind. – he says loudly as he disappears into his room again.
I lean against the wall and sigh.
He emerges triumphantly from the hallway, holding his umbrella. He walks up and stands in front of me, also leaning against the wall.
- You’ve never been to the company, right?
- No, never.
- Good. So you don’t even know where the offices are or anything.
- No.
- Okay. Listen closely. Marzio and the others went to great lengths to hide you. There has to be a reason for that. Clearly, it’s about your safety. I can’t think of anything else. But you have to get inside. So we need to come up with a way to sneak you in. Once inside, we’ll search together for what he left you. – he gestures dramatically as he speaks, unlike yesterday. He seems excited. – The plan is this. You’ll come with me in the car, and we’ll enter Prosud. It’s raining, and there’ll be a downpour – a flash of lightning lights up the bedroom and living room doors. He raises a finger and exclaims – right on cue! The way to get you inside is to hide you. You’ll travel in the trunk of my car. It won’t be comfortable, but it’ll work. Once there, I’ll come up with something with the guards, the rain, and the rest. They’ll let me in. Once inside, I’ll open the trunk, you’ll get out, and head off on your own. We’ll meet in Marzio’s office, and together we’ll search for what he left for you.
He watches me intently. I nod.
- I know, it’s not the most refined plan in the world.
- The important thing is that it works.
- Exactly. The important thing is that it works. Listen carefully, the plant is built around a main road. Marzio’s offices are on the left side of the road, in a two-story building. I’ll park so you can get out of the trunk and head straight to the left, walk about fifty meters, and then get into the building. – He puts his hands in his pockets – You can’t miss it – he says, showing me three sets of keys – Listen carefully, these are the keys to Marzio’s house. We’ll leave them here, near your computer, we won’t need them. – he clenches them in his left palm, then points to the other two sets – this one has the keys to his office. I’m convinced there are other keys in here that open doors in Prosud. Keep it. – He takes the keyring between his index finger and thumb and hands it to me – This other one… – he pauses – I don’t know what it opens, but it was his. It was in his car. So far, everything I’ve found there has been useful, so you should take this too. – He puts it in my hand and then gently closes my fingers over the keys, taking my hand between his. They’re a bit rough. – If I’m late, start without me. Don’t be afraid. We’re almost there.
- I won’t be afraid. – it has become my mantra.
- Very well then, let’s go.
He heads to the door, and I follow.
- Where’s your car? – I ask as he opens the door and gestures for me to go out.
- In the garage. – he closes the door and locks it.
- You have a garage? – I’m surprised that a place like this has a garage.
- Yes, these are condos built in the seventies for police officers. After all sorts of changes and mix-ups, the garages stayed. I don’t know how, but this house ended up with a garage. It’s convenient for me because I use the service car, which is why I rented this place. It’s not too expensive either. – We descend the stairs, him in the lead – There are also benefits for police officers, they deduct it directly from my paycheck. It’s worth it. – We reach the small entrance hall leading to the closed park. The glass of the aluminum door is blurred by rain. – Open the umbrella. – he says before opening the door.
The wind and rain hit us, and we move toward it. He turns left, and we walk single file for about thirty meters before stopping.
- One drawback is that the garage opens manually!
He shouts as the wind whistles through our hair, inserting the key into the lock at the center of the wide garage door. Above it, there’s a handle. He twists it, then gives it a shove. The door moves a little, then returns to its resting position, pushed back by the wind. He tries again, harder, and the overhead door opens, rising to the ceiling. I step inside, where the water doesn’t reach, all the way to the back of the garage.
The room is empty. On either side, shelves hold cardboard boxes spilling over with documents and odds and ends.
His umbrella is half-broken, and his hair is wet.
- Sorry, I left the car outside the park. I’ll go get it and come back. Wait here.
I nod and watch him disappear into the rain. The wind swirls at the garage entrance, the door shakes and rattles, it seems fragile. I take a few steps back, afraid it might fall, pulled down by the gusts.
I’m alone. I lean against the back wall, shake the water off my small umbrella, and secure it with the strap. I wait, arms crossed, for him to return. I check the time. The morning is wearing on. I sigh. I don’t like being here. I move closer to the door, leaning as far out as possible without getting wet. Outside, the rain makes everything hazy. But in the distance, I see a flashing yellow light. Squinting, I see something moving, maybe a gate opening. Behind it, there are two yellow headlights. The gate opens, and I see the car approaching. I step back as he pulls up and turns to reverse into the garage. I press against the shelves as the car slowly backs in.
It’s a black Alfa 155 sedan. It passes in front of me. I see Marzio’s head through the window. He’s sitting on the back seat, gazing placidly ahead. The car moves further, and then there’s him. Sitting in the front passenger seat, leaning toward me, grinning malevolently, baring his rotten teeth, and reaching a hand toward the window. I don’t know if he’s waving or trying to grab me, maybe both. I shake my head and look away. The commissioner has gotten out of the car. He’s already soaked. He walks to the trunk and opens it. He starts emptying it, and I approach. I look inside. It’s empty now, though it seems a bit dirty.
He gestures at it and shrugs.
I’ll be in the dark inside.
I cross my arms. I have no other choice but to go in there, under this rain, toward Marzio. In the dark. Fine. I’ll stay in the dark. And when I get out, I’ll face the truth.
I sit inside, pull up my legs, and crouch down.
I see the policeman’s face. His eyes are gentle.
- Don’t worry. It won’t take long to get there.
I nod, then stare into space. He gently lowers the trunk lid, gives it a firm push at the end, and it closes.
The sound of the rain is muffled. Distant. I’m here, curled up in the belly of this car. Once again, being transported.
I hear the car door close. The engine starts, faint but with vibrations that reach me here. I slip my left arm under my head and close my eyes. The car moves, then stops. The door opens, and the sound of rain becomes louder, drumming on the trunk above me. A few seconds pass, and then I hear the metallic sound of the garage door closing. The commissioner gets back in the car, and I feel the weight shift on the left suspension. He shuts the door and drives off.
- Everything okay back there? – he shouts from beyond the seats.
I take a deep breath and shout back.
- Yes!
- Okay, let’s go. – he shifts gears. – Here we go. – he says, but after a few meters, we stop again. I hear him shuffling papers and objects on the dashboard. – Damn remote. – he mutters to himself.
Then he stops, perhaps finding it. I wait a little longer, and we’re on the move again.
I keep my eyes closed. I try to breathe steadily, to relax, focusing on the sound of air passing through my nose. The bumps of the road distract me. I can’t believe how many potholes there are on this road. It feels like we’re driving on a dirt track. As time passes, I feel the grooves of the trunk pressing against my bones.
- I’m making a call. – he says. I have nothing to say. I stay silent, focusing on my breath.
- Ventriglia? How are you? It’s Cardona. – another of the commissioner’s friends. – Hi, hi. Listen. I’m on my way to the company. I need a favor… yes, perfect. I need you to come to the company and let me in. Yes. I’ll say I’m coming to see you. That you need to show me something. Yes. Yes, perfect. Listen, how long will it take you to get there? – he pauses to listen. – No, listen, I’m already in the car. I can go slow, but it won’t take more than half an hour. Can you make it? – he asks, worried. – You have to make it. I need to do this now. I’ll explain later. No, no, nothing special. I just need to figure something out. Quick stuff, not more than half an hour. Yes, okay, fine, got it. Yes. Okay. See you later. Make sure you get there first. Yes, bye.
The conversation ends. The car is moving less now, taking a long left curve. I’m pushed toward the side of the car. I hold onto the felt lining the dark space that envelops me to keep from slipping. The curve ends, and the commissioner shifts gears. He accelerates.
- We’re getting on the highway. I called a friend. He worked with Marzio, knows him well. He’ll help us get in. It’ll take about half an hour to get to the plant. It’s pouring, so we can’t drive too fast.
- Okay – I reply curtly.
He’s right, the sound of rain hitting above me has taken on a darker tone. It feels like drops of lead, pounding down. Now the dull whistle of the wind joins in. I keep breathing. Each breath feels endless, my belly expands, and my chest swells. I inhale until it hurts, then a bit more, and I exhale with my belly, pushing the diaphragm up, emptying my lungs. I do it once, then again, and again. Each time, I feel my eyes grow lighter, my sense of self stepping back, away from my body, each time a little lighter. The noises fade, and I drift away from here. I enter a dark but comforting room, warm. The sound of rain is like a hypnotic lullaby. I no longer feel my body, and my consciousness becomes weaker, calmer, relaxed, undisturbed. A placid lake. And it stays that way with each breath. Until everything becomes soft. I settle into this pleasant drowsiness. Each breath is an eternity. I see figures and faces forming behind my closed eyelids, I see smiles, fluid shapes of shifting colors, dancing in a black cauldron like a graceful ballet. Sometimes I see a pair of familiar eyes, familiar features, I see home, the room. The bed, the dishes, and the food, his smile, my peace. The windows and the sun. She’s there too, Cardia’s daughter, outside on the balcony, which is a huge terrace full of flowers overlooking the blue sea. We have breakfast together. He spreads jam on my croissant. He’s wearing a shirt with the collar up, concentrating on the knife. His knife. No one speaks. There’s soft music in the background. Then we all raise our arms and open our mouths in joy as the roller coaster car takes a sharp left and sends us into a loop. My hair flies away, obscuring my face. I can’t see anything. Everything is black. I hear him shouting with joy. And again, we go up and then down. He holds my hand, with the other I try to push my hair away from my face, but I can’t, they’re stuck and tangled, thick, too many. I really want to see his happy face, screaming with joy with me, and I try again to see, but the more I touch the hair, the more it tangles, around my face, around my neck, around my chest. I squeeze, and they hold me still. I grab scissors, afraid of blinding myself, but I want to see him. I slide the blade in, I’m scared, and I cut. Something falls, and I see a little light. Again the blade goes in, I cut, and I bleed, my cheek is torn, but it’s only superficial, so again and again, each cut strips away my skin, the hair is bloody, my cheeks red, I cut and free myself, I push the hair from my face, and the room is dark. The jester’s face is next to mine. He’s looking at me, laughing with his mouth wide open. It’s huge, dark, and empty. I feel like I’m being swallowed by it. He puts his hand on my shoulder, pulls me up to him, squeezes, and laughs, laughing like a demon.
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