“Ok,” he told himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy, so I don't want to complain. I’m halfway there. Let’s keep going.”
And so he did. With the deliveries, readings, exercise, television…
No surprises, no intrusions and no dreams too horrible to be forgotten. He expected a second visit from doctor Nicastro, or from Alex, just to have a chat beyond the usual formalities.
The Tank kept grinding the days, under the rain and the sun, an immense concrete spider on an invisible web, a place where all the threads of sin, transgression, crime and degradation converged. Fatally. Inexorably. And Giovanni Corte, zealous Keeper and watcher, had to wait the end of July to get answers for the many questions corroding his heart.
19 – Confessions
The fax arriving in the morning of July 21st presented, for the first time since the beginning of the year, an anomaly.
There were three deliveries. Two triple ones in the afternoon and a single one in the morning. Giovanni thought it was a weird subdivision. But he still couldn’t know how weird would that lone morning delivery.
First, where the name of the convict should have been written, there was only an ID: 150552-MO. A military ID. As for the accusation, it was Treason. He would arrive at 8:30 A.M.. Giovanni felt his heart sink. He would probably finally meet his enemy.
He skipped breakfast, or at least postponed it. He wasn’t hungry. He preferred looking outside the window, his eyes on the faraway built up area called the Center.
A van appeared from the small scrub hiding a parking lot and took the road (the spider web) to the Tank.
It’s time.
He straightened his shirt, checked the holster, centered the buckle of his belt, got out of his apartment and stopped next to the Shutter. He coughed a couple of times, then tried to talk (“I am the NMO”) to verify the stability of his voice. It was alright. Yes, he was ready. Ot at least, he thought he was.
There was the buzz, the noise of the steel cables, the cabin slowing down, stopping…
He took a deep breath, expanding his chest, thinking he could maybe assimilate some energy and get stronger. But when the doors opened and he saw general Stevanich get out of the elevator, he almost dropped his clipboard. His hands did their best to strengthen their grip, but the joints of his fingers seemed to have melt like butter under the sun.
Despite being a civilian, he immediately saluted him.
“Good morning, general!”
Stevanich, in his high uniform, quickly brought a finger to the eyeshade of his hat. “Good morning, Keeper Corte.”
Giovanni hoped he looked impeccable, martial, but his heartbeat and breathing were plotting to destroy that semblance of balance. His brain contracted like a sponge, producing an infinity of questions. But he didn’t have the time to be surprised as behind the general there was Alex, followed by Scalp.
While three were heading towards him, towards the Shutter, Giovanni noticed two sinisterly clarifying details. Scalp had his rifle. Alex had his hands tied behind his back and was looking down.
Oh God, no…
“I appreciate the fact that you could manage the situation with discretion, mister Corte.” The general started. “You didn’t create unnecessary tensions nor divulged important information.”
Giovanni listened to those words trying to keep a proud look – appropriately proud – even if he wasn’t sure he was following. However, he decided it was appropriate to answer just by moving his head in a nod. He noticed, right behind the general’s head, that Alex had raised his head and was staring at him. He tried not cross his gaze.
“You surely know”, Stevanich went on “that high officers don’t usually run deliveries, except when the convict is part of the military.”
“Of course…”
“And that my presence here, this morning, is justified by the fact that we are about to unload Alex Allevi.” He didn’t even turn towards the young man he was talking about and Giovanni didn’t dare avert his gaze from Stevanich’s hard face to find out what facial expression was altering the prisoner’s face. “He was arrested the night he returned to the Center after incursion you reported. His confusional state and the superficial wound on his left shoulder made him very suspicious. I personally followed the interrogation and after two days we managed to get a complete confession. A confession…” He took a piece of paper, which had been folded four times, out of his pocket and opened it “…convict Allevi will now read out loud.”
After saying this, he stepped aside. Scalp touch Alex’s back with the barrel of his 13-S and the latter stepped forward. At that point it was inevitable for Giovanni to meet his gaze.
Alex looked a bit paler and also thinner than the last time they met. His lips trembled slightly, telling a tale of emotional devastation and terror. Was it entreaty, what he was seeing in his eyes? Or shame? Giovanni coughed to hide a hiccup. And went back to staring at the general.
Stevanich, without ever looking at the convict’s face, extended his arm towards him with the typewritten document and said: “Read it, Allevi.”
Alex breathed corals. A drop of mucus shone under one nostril. His pupils started going up and down the document, trying to focus on the writing. Then the trembling lips separated and his throat reluctantly started exhaling. “I… Alex Allevi…”
Giovanni shivered hearing that broken scarping pretending to be a voice.
“Confess to have conducted a series of… actions driven by feelings of resentment… and envy towards Giovanni Corte, Keeper of Tank 9…”
Giovanni felt needles sinking under the skin of his arms and legs.
Alex looked up, trying to met Giovanni’s eyes with his. The Keeper did the same, astonished.
“Go on, Allevi!” The general’s voice was a whiplash in the Ring’s silence.
Only then did Giovanni realize that the convict hadn’t been sedated. However physically and mentally dejected he could feel, he totally lacked the resigned detachment, the lethargy that the Keeper had seen in all the convicts. Alex was lucid. They probably denied him that one solace. Lucid, and desperately aware of what awaited him.
“…in January of the current year I wrote what I wanted to be mistaken for the previous Keeper’s memoir… describing experiences and episodes that could induce negative feelings into Corte…”
(Unbelievable!)
“…I got inside the Tank at night using the elevator and I knocked to trick Corte into exiting the apartment. I knew he would go to isolation cabin to check it, as per regulations, so I hid behind the turn on the other side and spied his movements. He left the door open and walked away in the hallway, so I had the opportunity…” He caught his breath for a moment, then licked his lips to dampen them “…to hide the manuscript under the mattress, hoping he would find it sooner or later…”
Giovanni couldn’t take his eyes off the dry mouth reading that, hypnotized by the the words coming out of it, bewildered by the revelations amassing in a corner of his mind, ready to be later re-examined in all their horror.
“…my goal was to… induce him to quit his job in the Tank. job I would get as the second in rank during selections…”
While Alex was reading, Giovanni noticed Stevanich was observing him. The general – who still held the piece of paper in his hand, immobile like a statue – kept his eyes on him, a look as piercing as the cuspids of his tetragram. He felt the need to swallow what little saliva he had left in his mouth, but he knew that his occluded throat would make his neck move grotesquely; he decided to avoid it.