and removed the spread; he returned to the sofa. "Why did you leave Bologna and go to Corsica?" "More questions?" she said quietly.
I'm just curious, that's all." "I told you. I wanted to get away for a while. Is that not a good enough reason?" "It's not much of an explanation." "It's the one I prefer to give." She studied the dress in her hands.
Scofield slapped the spread over the sofa. "Why Corsica?" "You saw that valley. It is remote, peaceful. A good place to think." "Ifs certainly remote; that makes it a good place to hide out. Were you hiding from someone--or somethingr' "Why do you say things like thatr "I have to know. Were you hiding?" "Not from anything you would understand." "Try Me.,' "Stop itl" Antonia held the dress out for him. "Take your clothes. Take anything you want from me, I can't stop youl But leave me alone." Bray approached her. For the first time, he saw fear in her eyes. "I think you'd better tell me. All that talk about Bologna... it was a lie.
You wouldn't go back there even if you could. Why?" She stared at him for a moment, her brown eyes glistening. When she began, she turned away, and walked to the window overlooking the Piazza Navona. "You might as well know, it doesn't matter any longer... You're wrong. I can go back; they expect me back. And if I do not return, one day they will come looking for me."
"The leaders of the Red Brigades. I told you on the boat how I had run away from the camp in Medicina. That was over a year ago and for over a year I have lived a lie far greater than the one I told you. They found me, and I was put on trial in the Red Court-they call it the Red Court of Revolutionary Justice. Sentences of death are not mere phrases, they are very real executions, as the world knows now.
"I had not been indoctrinated, yet I knew the location of the camp and had witnessed the death of the boy. Most damaging, I had run away. I couldn't be trusted. Of course, I didn't matter compared to the objectives of the revolution; they said I had proved myself less than in- significant. A traitor.
"I saw what was coming, so I pleaded for my life. I claimed that I had been the student's lover, and that my reaction-although perhaps not admirable-was understandable. I stressed that I had said nothing to anyone, let alone the police. I was as committed as any in that court to the revolution-more so than most, for I came from a truly poor family.
"In my own way, I was persuasive, but there was something else working for me. To understand, you must know how such groups are organized. There is always a cadre of strong men, and one or two among these who vie for leadership, like male wolves in a pack-snarling, dominating, choosing their various mates at will, for that is part of the domination. A man such as this wanted me. He was probably the most vicious of the pack; the others were frightened of him-and so was I.
"But he could save my life, and I made my choice. I lived with him for over a year, hating every day, despising the nights he took me, loathing myself as much as I loathed him.
"Still, I could do nothing. I lived in fear; in such a terrible fear that my slightest move would be mistaken, and my head blown away... their favorite method of execution." Antonia turned from the window. "You asked me why I did not run from you and the Russian. Perhaps you understand better now; the conditions of my survival were not new to me. To run away meant death; to run away from you means death now. I was a captive in Bologna, I became a captive in Porto Vecchio... and I am a captive now in Rome." She paused then spoke again. "I am tired of you all. I can't stand it much longer. Ile moment will come, and I will run... and you will shoot." She held out the dress again. 'Take your clothes, Signore Scofield. I am faster in a pair of trousers." Bray did not move, nor did he object by gesture or voice. He almost smiled, but he could not do that, either. "I'm glad to hear that your sense of fatalism doesn't include intentional