Code Name: Rose

Chapter 14: Leonardo Bianchi

Chapter 14:

I wake up to the quiet hum of the Mclaren P1. I peer out of the window, rubbing my eyes. There are streetlamps, sidewalks and houses. We've reached Bari. 

"You should get more sleep," Thyme speaks from the drivers seat, "there's still 15 minutes until we arrive at his house."

I check the time. It's 6:30 p.m. 

All of a sudden, memories of before I fell asleep flood me. Me refusing to leave the wheel. Me screaming and shouting. Heat flushes up my neck and face in sheer embarrassment. 

"Hey," I cough, "um... sorry... for causing a mess earlier..." I mumble. 

He glances at me. "I'm sorry, did you just say something? Because I think I misheard you. I thought you just apologised but that's impossible, right? Right?"

I give him an exasperated sigh and shake my head. "I just... tend to get cranky when I'm tired. I need my beauty sleep too you know."

"You certainly do. Definitely rocking the racoon look right now." 

"Shut up, my dark circles aren't even that bad." I hold back a smile and can't help but feel that warming feeling you get when you hang out with your friends. The warming feeling I used to get when I was with Ria, making jokes with her and going shopping, dressing each other up with our similar fashion senses, trying literally every resturant in New York. Fear and regret creeps in. I can't die. I can't have her go through the pain of losing her only friend right after losing her entire family. Not me. I promised I'd be there for her and I will. No matter what. 

Thyme gently parks the car into the driveway of a house, the postbox labelled as 13.

It's a single-storey, white house. Just like any other. But we don't miss the security cameras positioned carefully on the corners, staring at us as if they're about to shoot harpoons. There's a small garden as a front-yard with green lawn and a couple of empty rose bushes around the edges. It doesn't look too old, perhaps 5 years since it was built, judging by the fading colour of the maroon main door. 

Thyme rings the doorbell and we wait awkwardly for a good minute before the door opens with a clack. A middle-aged man emerges, maybe 35 years old? He has red hair and pale skin, specked with freckles along his cheeks and nose. His plump lips are a light pink and slightly chapped. He's taller than me, around 5'10. He's Leonardo Bianchi, the reporter.

"Ah, hello, welcome. You must be Rose," he turns his gaze to me and his italian accent throws me off a bit. "Please, do come in." 

I glance at Thyme and walk in first. His house starts with a living room to the left. There's a small T.V at the far end and two couches on opposite walls. Walking further into the house, he has a small backyard, covered with fake grass and a few dried plants around the edges. His dining room and kitchen are connected with only 5 steps of space between them. To the right leads to two doors, one probably leading to the bathroom and the other probably to a bedroom.

"Please, take a seat wherever you like." He says but gestures to the table. Thyme and I sit on one side while Antonio sits across from me. From under the table, I press a small button of the tiny, circular voice recorder Joseph gifted me. With my other hand, I pull out another recorder, the size of my palm and place it on the table. Leonardo eyes it but only smiles. 

"I will be recording this interview for future references, is this okay?" I ask, my hand hovering over the green button. 

"Yes, yes, of coarse!" He nods and splays his hands towards the recorder. I push the button. 

"So, who is this friend you've brought along?" He entwines his finger together and leans on the table, studying Thyme. 

"My apologies for not informing you earlier that I won't be alone," I attempt to send a message across to him that I'm not to be messed with. Despite his innocent look, there's something about him that's putting me off. "This is Thyme, a childhood friend of mine." 

Leonardo nods slowly, drinking in the sight of Thyme who sits patiently with his arms crossed and leaning against the back of the chair. Thyme's deep blue eyes are focused on the reporter and his black hair falls on his lashes. God, why is he so fucking handsome?

I clear my throat and turn my attention to Leonardo. "You're article on Russia's international alliances through the connection of weaponry was quite interesting, Mr. Bianchi." 

"Ah yes, I only recently dug up some information on that, and the article must have been my newest post. And please," he waves his hand limply, "call me Leonardo." 

I nod. "You had written that Russia often imports weaponry from the USA. Can you give any more information on that?"

"Yes, as I had written, Russia has the biggest army in the world and to satisfy the military demand, they ask for weapons from the USA in return for a promise to back USA up in the case of a war. Generally, Russia asks for bombs, tanks, guns and ammo from USA. Sometimes, but rarely, they ask for blades. However, Russia never actually uses the blades on the battlefields so where do they go? I don't know."

I nod. But there's something wrong. Something he's not telling me. I suppose he wants to keep some information to himself in the hopes that I will recommend him to some big news company. 

"Is there any relationship between Russia and Italy on this matter?" I'm treading shallow water but I need this information. Leonardo narrows his eyes ever so slightly, I almost miss it.

"Italy isn't known for violence and tends to keep quiet." He leans back and crosses his arms, staring at me as if he knows all my darkest, dirtiest secrets. "However, very recently there has been some movement." 

I try to hide the twinkle in my eye. 

"Italy," he continues, "is backed up by Britain who is backed up by Australia, France and Poland so in a way, Italy has double forces at its back. Even though Russia has the army, and USA has the weapons, if either of them act against Italy, they will be against 5 countries. Even that is too much for them."

I nod. He didn't answer my question. 

"However," He leans forward again and his knee brushes against mine under the table. His hand reaches across and presses the red button on the recorder, my eyes following his every step. "Why are you so interested in alliances?" His face is dangerously close to mine in an act of intimidation. I feel Thyme tense so slightly beside me. 

My brows furrow and my instincts start to kick into the fight or flight mode but knowing me and my job, it'll be the former.

I don't have a chance to answer before something crashes and Thyme and I are on our feet, guns drawn, pointing at an opened door. The man standing between the door is the size of a monster, over 7'2. His insanely broad shoulders squeeze through the doorframe and it's then that I notice the unhidged door. He broke it. He holds a rifle, directly aimed at my face as he steps out. Behind him are 7 more men - normal men. Each holds a gun. Shit. We're screwed.