PART 3 – Escape through the Alley
"Quick, outside!" gasped Elena as she stood up and pushed the window open. The cold outside air rushed straight inside, mixed with the smell of wet asphalt and exhaust fumes from the alley. I didn't hesitate for a moment. I grabbed the dossier from the desk, stuffed the papers into my handbag, and climbed over the windowsill. My boot hit the wet metal of the fire escape, and with a dull thud, I landed in the narrow, shaded alley behind the store.
Elena followed right after me, her heels clicking loudly against the steel steps. We ran until we turned the corner, sheltered by the concrete walls of the adjacent warehouse. Only when we leaned breathless against the wall did we dare look back. The back door of the store was ajar. The silhouette of a man in a long dark coat stood in the opening, peering into the darkness of the alley.
He wore a hat that hid his eyes, but the gold watch on his wrist gleamed briefly in the street light. My stomach turned. That watch... It was the exact same style as Mrs. Moretti's. "Did you see that?" Elena whispered in a shaky voice. "That wasn't an ordinary customer, Emma. They're after you." "Who are 'they'?" I asked, clutching the zipper of my bag tight where the dossier was.
"The Moretti family? Or... does this have to do with my father?" We took the subway to my small apartment on the edge of the city. The ride felt like an eternity. Every time a passenger looked up or turned in our direction, panic clutched my heart. Once, I thought I recognized a man in the same coat, but fortunately he got off at the next stop. Once home, I turned off all the lights and drew the heavy curtains.
Only when we were safely sitting on the couch did I dare take the papers out of my bag. I spread the copies of the bank transactions out on the coffee table. "Look here," I pointed out. "The last three transactions of that card were made at the same location in San Michele. An address on the edge of the village: Via del Sole 14. Do you know what that is, Elena?" Elena leaned over the paper.
Her eyes glided over the address. "Via del Sole... That doesn't sound like a shop or a bank building. That sounds like a residence. Or a hideout." "Tomorrow is Tuesday," I said, and suddenly everything fell into place. "The day the card is always used at precisely twelve o'clock." Elena looked at me sternly. "You surely don't want to go to San Michele?
That's insane, Emma! You'll walk right into a trap!" "If my father is there, or if someone there has answers about his so-called death, then I have to go," I said in a voice that left no room for discussion. I stood up and walked to the old cabinet in the corner of the living room. Behind a stack of old books lay a small iron box. It was the box with belongings my mother had left behind after her passing.
I hadn't opened it in years. With trembling fingers, I removed the rusty lid. Beneath old photos and jewelry lay a small silver key with an engraved monogram: M.B. Next to the key lay a handwritten note from my father, dated exactly one week before the so-called car accident. I read the first sentence and felt the ground drop out from under my feet.
