The industry executive of the IRI was having a little substantial lunch in the canteen located on the top floor of the building in via Versilia in Rome.
A prestigious canteen where sometimes the president of the powerful para-public institute was surrounded by his closest and most high-sounding collaborators.
A canteen where those who wanted, in addition to the first, second and side dish, could ask for free fruit, cake, coffee and coffee killer.
"Doctor (he was a PHD) 'so-and-so' is wanted on the phone ..." the loudspeaker croaked.
"Not even time to eat a hard-boiled egg with salad ..." sighed the industry executive who was on a strict diet precisely because of that canteen he had put on five kilos too much.
He went to an internal phone and picked up the receiver: "Doctor, (the voice was that of an elderly secretary who was on duty), your wife has been taken hostage by a bank robber, but she's fine ..."
The industry executive, flanked by Vincenzo, a Molise collaborator always ready to assist his boss, was told in which bank his bride had been taken hostage, in what conditions she was were further details) and ordered a taxi through the internal telephone exchange.
The car was ready at the entrance to via Versilia and in a few minutes unloaded the two passengers in front of the security door of the Banca Commerciale in Piazzale Flaminio
The slightly anxious wife and the agency manager were awaiting their arrival.
"But what happened?", He asked, hugging the blonde wife, reassured by the fact that there was no physical damage. As for the neurological ones, he would think about it later.
And here began the description of the event made by the lady who clearly wanted to ease the accumulated tension with an analytical illustration of every little detail.
"I had to deposit a few million in checks that my clients had paid me (the lady was and is a well-known fashion designer, ed) and then before going to pick up the boys from school I stopped at the agency to do this quick banking operation.
But it wasn't quick because starting with the damn security door and then all those messages "open the drawer, put in every metal object, etc.", yes it took me a while to get inside the agency.
I stood in line at a counter and as I was very tired, holding the five checks, I leaned against a ledge of the counter waiting for a very elegant young man in front of me to finish his operation.
You know I'm a bit distracted and anyway, since I was almost next to him, I saw that that guy put a bag in front of the cashier and opened it, pulled out a gun and, since I never think badly, I said to myself that this was surely a security carrier.
The young man told the banker on the other side of the counter to fill his purse with cash, and he hastened to open the drawer in front of him, pulling out wads of banknotes.
I continued to be leaning with my elbow on that wooden parapet when the young man, after closing the bag full of money, pointed the gun at me and said: "Now you come with me, don't make a fuss," and he pressed the gun in the hip.
At that point, despite the tiredness, I realized that I had slipped into a not too pleasant situation.
The young man and I (he had a nice checked jacket with a linen shirt) took the exit which had to be safeguarded by the security guard who was at the entrance.
"Turn right, don't make a fuss and walk ..." the robber ordered me.
It was half past one and the street was full of school-leavers waiting for public transport.
"Enter that door ... And don't move for ten minutes otherwise I'll kill you if you go out earlier ..." the guy continued.
And I stayed inside that door, he went out and disappeared, I think he slipped into a Mini parked a little further on.
Anyway, I didn't stay inside that door for ten minutes but I went out after a while and seeing that the robber had disappeared I turned my heel and went back to the bank, still holding my five checks.
Outside the agency there were several people, including the cashier.
I walked in and told an employee I had to make a deposit. The excited one told me it was not possible because they had just been robbed for millions of lire.
"And you tell me that I was taken away under the threat of the gun and luckily she released me ..." I told him a little pissed off, you know how things are going in those moments and I'm sorry that maybe I was a little 'too violent with that poor fellow ... "
So far the description of the episode made by the former hostage bride to the industry executive of IRI who listened anxiously to the illustration of the ongoing danger of his beloved while the director of the agency hopped from foot to foot trying to hide a madman fear that he still could not dispose of.
"Dear lady", panted the director of the agency who didn't know what to do with "How can we help you?"
"Let her make that fucking deposit since she still has the checks in her hand and send the lady a large bouquet of flowers" ordered the brave Vincenzo who knew how to solve the intricate situations.
"We have to call the boys who are waiting for me at the Villa Flaminia", said the lady and her husband handed over the heavy portable telephone that had recently been supplied and weighed at least two kilos.
He helped the bride to dial the school phone number and after a few minutes the lady finally managed to talk to the eldest of the two children, Maximiliano, to whom she told that 'she had been taken hostage in the bank but that she was fine' and would be them in 20 minutes.
"Hostage? Ah okay ... Look, we have to go to the pool at three."
Teenager Max was a man of few words.
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A few days later the local news of Tempo and Il Messaggero reported that a handsome young robber armed with a toy gun had been blocked, thanks to a lightning police operation, in a banking agency where he had taken hostage a girl, being the granddaughter of a well-known Christian Democrat government secretary. The robber appears to be in his eighth experience. Until then it had been fine.
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Post Scriptum
You certainly understood that the industry executive was me and that the hostage was my wife Franca.
Oscar
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