Angelina is crying blue tears. The smoke of a million centuries is flowing through them. She had witnessed everything, except the growth of her baby. It is truly heart breaking.<\/p>\n
The life-changing hug seems to repair me and destroy her, but nothing is what it seems.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m the bastard who asked if I could call her mum just an hour before she witnessed the emergence of his long gone son on national TV.<\/p>\n
I<\/i> guess finding your son is better than losing him, isn\u2019t it?<\/i><\/p>\n
I buried him many years ago, and he looks quite deadly right now<\/i>, she says.<\/p>\n
I should feel hopeful: if her dying son meets his fate, then I could be his breathing version, although I\u2019d still be embarrassingly white.<\/p>\n
The Irish in me says sorry<\/i> and the Sicilian in her says thank you<\/i>.<\/p>\n
Thanks for what? <\/i><\/p>\n
For holding his head before he hit the ground, kid: you saved his life.<\/i><\/p>\n
I don\u2019t mention how painful it is to be called a kid<\/i> after being called son<\/i>; I just ask what\u2019s the name of her biological auld child. She says Jerome<\/i>, which sounds a bit like Tarantino missing the plot.<\/p>\nJerome? <\/b><\/b><\/h4>\n
I\u2019m still struggling to understand what\u2019s the kinship between Jerome and Lisbet\u2019s grandpa. I want to text Lisbet and explain that Angelina could be her great grandmother, but I shall use a burner phone for Interpol eluding purposes.<\/p>\n
This is a fucked up puzzle with an elephant in it bigger than the room.<\/p>\n
I wonder how accurate she can be at identifying someone she has missed her entire life. I clearly remember her saying that Jerome was taken away from her immediately after she gave birth.<\/p>\n
The newsreel of my intervention is all over the satellites, there\u2019s not a single anchor on national TV trying to figure out whom the fuck is the half-crouching individual holding Jerome\u2019s tiny skull like a precious bowl. Only one of them would call me a hero. This is proper sober journalism.<\/p>\n
The Nippon Zen Master rings and asks what the fuck happened. I tell her about my random encounter with Lisbet, and the whole charade with the American TV crew, and she says that Interpol and Carl Murder should be my main concern.\u00a0 <\/span>Don\u2019t trust anyone. I have contacted HQ. Get a burner phone ASAP. If things go sour, find the cat-flap at the back of Angelina\u2019s. Mei, our Kendo master, is outside. And remember: Don\u2019t believe half of what you see and none of what you hear<\/i>, she says.<\/p>\n How to forget it!<\/p>\n She is great at quoting Lou Reed in life or death situations.<\/p>\n So before the Interpol, I shall fear Angelina? <\/i><\/p>\n The line dies before she can answer.<\/p>\n\n\t\t