Paolo Belleroni Hospital
June 28, 4:23PM
It was meant to be a discreet affair, but that did not keep the Carabinieri from implementing extensive security measures, far beyond anything that had been standard prior to the hostage crisis. This involved a large display of vehicles and officers outside the hospital, an extensive review of the building itself and the sealing off of the entire floor. Valerio watched with a mix of admiration and sadness as the officers did their job, and as he walked the empty hall, his wife by his side and officers following closely behind, he wondered whether this was a temporary escalation, or a sign of changing times. He hoped to nature that it would be the former.
He reached Room 394, whose door was already open, an officer standing by it, and entered.
"First Councillor. It's so good to see you all in one piece."
"Francesco" said Valerio to the Second Councillor. ", it's good to see you in one piece. You have no idea how much I hoped that we could get you alive and well, all things considered. Vittoria and I were so worried, once the operation finished and we knew little about you."
Sciarra smiled, wincing slightly, then adjusting himself in the bed. "Doctors says I'll survive, hysically at least. I woke up today half-panicked, thinking I was in for some torture, so I think I'll have some therapy to do moving forward."
They stood there for a few seconds, no words spoken, until Sciarra looks sideways, as if looking for something. "How is Marzia, by the way? I've been asking everyone, but they all say they haven't been informed."
Valerio dropped his smile, same with his wife, and he stepped forward, sitting on Sciarra's bed. "Francesco, I have to be honest with you. There were risks to this operation, one of them being that the Sacuri would try to execute hostages if they saw us coming in, and...well, I'm so sorry, but Marzia was caught in the crossfire."
If Valerio said anything else, Sciarra didn't hear it; he barely heard anything else, aside from his heartbeat, and those words over and over again: "she was caught in the crossfire". Marzia, his partner for more than 19 years, was gone. Not just for the day, away on a business trip, gone on vacation, but gone for good. He was never going to see her again, hold her again, feel her hair against his ears, wish her a good day as each left for work, dance with her on a Friday night. He felt numb, and for the first time in years, he felt empty.