Read Online The Conversion by Joseph Olshan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph Olshan
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me.
Stefano
.”
Stefano was to have accompanied her to Paris, to see a certain exhibition of medieval manuscripts at the Museum of the City of Paris. He hadn’t left the villa in ten years and made the mistake of writing about breaking his self-imposed incarceration in one of his newspaper essays, divulging his traveling plans. Shortly before they were to leave, Marina received a call from this friend in Intelligence who warned that information had been received about a possible assassination attempt against Stefano.
“I first thought it was ridiculous. Why would they bother to assassinate an ailing older man who writes a newspaper column?”
“Because lots of people read it and might be influenced,” I say.
“I will tell you there are far more important and powerful people to hit than my Stefano.”
Of course Marina would want to assume this.
“The problem is that my friend in Intelligence admits that his own sources aren’t as reliable as he’d like them to be. But he still said we shouldn’t take chances. So that is why Stefano stayed home while I went to Paris by myself.
“Anyway, I changed my reservation at the very last moment from a double to a single room. And then I learned what happened in
your
room. So … here we have Ed and Stefano, two well-known writers who easily might have been confused with each other, possibly by whoever informed the men which room it was. So if they were actually looking for Stefano, once they realized they were in the wrong room, they probably just fled.”
“I think they
fled
because Ed went crazy on them,” I say in English. “Totally bananas. It threw them, I think.”
“So you’re suggesting his foolish behavior was what saved your lives?”
I explain how it’s been proven that being daring and aggressive during an attack can put the aggressor off guard.
Marina dismisses this with, “Just as likely they could’ve been provoked to kill both of you.”
“Possible,” I agree. “Thank God they didn’t. I just assumed they were only after money and passports.”
“Money and passports are valuable to people who want to commit terrorist acts.”
“Yes, but commit terrorist acts to obtain them?” I ask her.
“Why not? Of course you’d rather believe that a gun pointed at your head was being used to commit a robbery rather than to kill you,” Marina tells me. “And who wouldn’t?”
“Did I tell you that while it was happening, they momentarily switched from French to another language—Ed claimed it was Albanian. I reported this to the police, but frankly I never understood how he was able to recognize that language.”
Marina explains that Albanian has been influenced by Latin words and that the Arbëreshë dialect is spoken widely in Italy.
“But I know more Latin-based languages than Ed did, and I didn’t recognize any words.” I go on to say that the switch in language involved approximately four short sentences that were quick and garbled.
“I see,” Marina murmurs. “And what about the comment you said they made … something about ‘two men.’”
Homosexuality is a shock to many people, I remind her. And it’s anathema to many religions, certainly to Islam. That still doesn’t tell us very much.
I go on to point out what was to me the most significant development surrounding the incident. One of the policemen who’d questioned me mentioned that the hotel had had some trouble with robberies in the past; in fact, our room lent easy access from several adjacent buildings and had been broken into repeatedly. (Of course, the management had avoided mentioning this.) Standing at the large balcony windows, the point of entry, the policeman indicated two roofs of neighboring buildings. So, as much as one could wonder if the intruders were Italian Albanians looking for Stefano, one could also theorize that we were chosen merely because our balcony was vulnerable. “Ed was the only one of us who felt they might have been looking for
Stefano
.”
Stefano was to have accompanied her to Paris, to see a certain exhibition of medieval manuscripts at the Museum of the City of Paris. He hadn’t left the villa in ten years and made the mistake of writing about breaking his self-imposed incarceration in one of his newspaper essays, divulging his traveling plans. Shortly before they were to leave, Marina received a call from this friend in Intelligence who warned that information had been received about a possible assassination attempt against Stefano.
“I first thought it was ridiculous. Why would they bother to assassinate an ailing older man who writes a newspaper column?”
“Because lots of people read it and might be influenced,” I say.
“I will tell you there are far more important and powerful people to hit than my Stefano.”
Of course Marina would want to assume this.
“The problem is that my friend in Intelligence admits that his own sources aren’t as reliable as he’d like them to be. But he still said we shouldn’t take chances. So that is why Stefano stayed home while I went to Paris by myself.
“Anyway, I changed my reservation at the very last moment from a double to a single room. And then I learned what happened in
your
room. So … here we have Ed and Stefano, two well-known writers who easily might have been confused with each other, possibly by whoever informed the men which room it was. So if they were actually looking for Stefano, once they realized they were in the wrong room, they probably just fled.”
“I think they
fled
because Ed went crazy on them,” I say in English. “Totally bananas. It threw them, I think.”
“So you’re suggesting his foolish behavior was what saved your lives?”
I explain how it’s been proven that being daring and aggressive during an attack can put the aggressor off guard.
Marina dismisses this with, “Just as likely they could’ve been provoked to kill both of you.”
“Possible,” I agree. “Thank God they didn’t. I just assumed they were only after money and passports.”
“Money and passports are valuable to people who want to commit terrorist acts.”
“Yes, but commit terrorist acts to obtain them?” I ask her.
“Why not? Of course you’d rather believe that a gun pointed at your head was being used to commit a robbery rather than to kill you,” Marina tells me. “And who wouldn’t?”
“Did I tell you that while it was happening, they momentarily switched from French to another language—Ed claimed it was Albanian. I reported this to the police, but frankly I never understood how he was able to recognize that language.”
Marina explains that Albanian has been influenced by Latin words and that the Arbëreshë dialect is spoken widely in Italy.
“But I know more Latin-based languages than Ed did, and I didn’t recognize any words.” I go on to say that the switch in language involved approximately four short sentences that were quick and garbled.
“I see,” Marina murmurs. “And what about the comment you said they made … something about ‘two men.’”
Homosexuality is a shock to many people, I remind her. And it’s anathema to many religions, certainly to Islam. That still doesn’t tell us very much.
I go on to point out what was to me the most significant development surrounding the incident. One of the policemen who’d questioned me mentioned that the hotel had had some trouble with robberies in the past; in fact, our room lent easy access from several adjacent buildings and had been broken into repeatedly. (Of course, the management had avoided mentioning this.) Standing at the large balcony windows, the point of entry, the policeman indicated two roofs of neighboring buildings. So, as much as one could wonder if the intruders were Italian Albanians looking for Stefano, one could also theorize that we were chosen merely because our balcony was vulnerable. “Ed was the only one of us who felt they might have been looking for
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