Chapter 84
84
We only drove 15 minutes, which wasn’t nearly long enough to get us back to Milan.
From the street signs, I deduced that the town we wound up in was Como – hence the name of the lake.
The policeman parked near a four-story building with the word ‘Questura’ on it. The place was ugly as could be. It looked like it had been built in the 1970s, with a red brick façade framed by pale stone columns. Small glass windows dotted the upper stories, and the glass entrance looked like it had once been a post office.
The officer pulled me out of the cruiser with my hands still cuffed behind me and marched me into the building. He took me to the back of the building, amongst a bunch of wooden desks and ancient computers, and pushed me forcefully down into a chair. Another cop kept watch over me while the first went back outside, then returned with the Glock and rifle.
The second cop whistled when he saw the guns – like Daaamn! Then the two of them jabbered back and forth in Italian. I couldn’t understand any of it.
“I need to make a phone call,” I said.
They ignored me and kept talking amongst themselves.
“I said, I NEED to make a PHONE CALL!” I shouted.
Both men turned and looked at me like they wanted to kill me – but the guy who had arrested me finally uncuffed me. He reached across the desk, grabbed an ancient office telephone complete with faux wood paneling and clear plastic buttons, and set it in front of me.
“I’ll use my cell phone,” I said as I pulled it out of my pocket.
“NO!” he shouted as he pointed at the landline.
I cursed under my breath and dialed the extraction number. I had it memorized, so that wasn’t the problem. I was just afraid they might not answer once they saw where I was calling from.
I was in luck; someone did answer – a male voice, although this one had a vaguely Eastern European accent.
“Who is this?” the voice asked.
“Lars Andersen,” I said, giving him my name for the mission.
“You appear to be calling from a police station in Como, Italy p>
“Yes. I’ve had a bit of a problem – ”
“Are you under arrest p>
“Yes p>
“For what p>
“I don’t know p>
“Why do you THINK you’re under arrest p>
I hesitated, then answered, “They found guns in my car – ”
“What was your name again?” the voice interrupted.
“Lars Andersen p>
“I don’t know any ‘Lars Andersen.’ Don’t call this number again p>
And he hung up.
I felt absolutely sick to my stomach.
Not because I was surprised –
But because the conversation had gone exactly as I feared it would.
Alistair’s warning echoed in my head:
If you’re caught… by the target or a foreign government, it doesn’t matter… you’re on your own. You must never try to leverage your connection with MI6 to obtain release. We will categorically deny that we know you. If you get caught, no one is coming to get you. You and you alone will suffer the consequences of failure.
The phone call just confirmed my greatest fear:
I was well and truly fucked.