Comrades, 300 militants are now in prison.
And our student comrades are held by police in Padua.
Welcome back to Rome.
-That one was serious. -They're getting more serious every day.
Come on, I'll buy you a plate of pasta and a bottle of wine.
Oh, no, love to, but I'm heading straight for Lia's.
-Lia? She's back in Milano. -No, no, I talked to her Monday.
Oh, don't worry. We'll eat.
I'll explain Italian inheritance procedures.
I can't believe that's not settled yet. Her father died over two years ago.
It's Italy, my friend. All things progress at a stately pace.
-Yeah, except for your revolution. -It's not my revolution.
The Red Brigades are not a National Liberation Army.
They're just a bunch of pissed off college kids...
on a murderous tantrum.
My friend, the wine is on the house.
You people have indulged them to such a point...
-that they're under the misconception. -We people, no, no, no, no.
I'd like to see them strung up by their trigger fingers.
Yes, but only because they've gotten out of control.
You've got this little worm of admiration eating away...
because you realize, however regrettable their methods are...
they're actually trying to do something.
You're like every Italian intellectual I've ever met.
Dizzy with ambivalence.
But for you people, life is so simple.
-If it's pink, nuke it. -Damn right.
We're a very forthright, upfront society. Very pure.
-Very pure. -To purity.
-Bomb? -Yes.
Where?
It's not far.
My students.
They know there are not going to be jobs for them when they graduate.
They're right to despise the government. It's bankrupt.
It's so weak, it now embraces the Communist Party.
The party is so flattered to be asked for a dance...
it presents its backside like a bitch in heat.
Such a farce.
Well, here's to farce.
How you say, "nuke them all."
I'm glad you're back.
Hey, listen. Lia won't be back until Monday.
Why don't you come climbing with me this weekend?
I'll give it my soberest consideration.
Good. I'll pick you up Friday. About 4.
-Get some sleep, huh. -Ciao Bella.
To guard against infiltration...
and the domino effect of a single mistake...
each Red Brigade column is comprised of units...
that can be sealed off like the chambers of a leaking ship.
It was essential to the Red Brigade Movement...
that they infiltrate the universities.
Not only at the student level but key faculty members as well.
One of their main targets...
was the extremely popular left wing English professor.
What do I call him? What do I call him?
Why not? I'll call him Italo Bianchi. Italo, you're gonna love it.
Good morning, Senior Bernier?
Can you find this young man a desk?
-Why? -Because this one happens to be mine.
So you want your old job back?
You took off at an inconvenient time for me.
Do you know that?
If you want to come back now, you have to take a cut.
-Twenty percent. -Oh, for Christ's sake, Bernier.
You've got working papers and a permit?
You know there's no legal work for aliens.
Look, I'm not after blood. I'll just dock you 10 percent. Okay?
That's all for today. Thank you.
Looks like we just made it. Salud.
Come on. Follow me.
If you don't like the weather in this country...
-just wait 10 minutes. -I love this fucking crazy country.
Which so far this year has experienced over 400 acts of political violence...
eighty-eight people murdered, 164 knee-cappings, 45 kidnappings.
Did you know that kid who was snatched yesterday?
Gagliani?
He's in one of my classes. Yes.
I heard he was a Red Brigade's groupie.
And that the whole thing was a set up to get money out of his parents.
Would that surprise you?
What surprises me is that...
is people like the Gaglianis are still around...
to get themselves kidnapped.
Thank you.
Most of those flamboyantly rich Italian families...
have fled to Paris or New York or Switzerland.
For the duration.
-You're sure Lia's coming home Monday? -That's what she said.
I thought there was practically nothing left in her father's estate.
No.
-Not after taxes. -Look, Italo.
You're her cousin. You know her better than anyone.
There's a chance. There's a chance...
I may be getting some money. Maybe next year.
If that happens...
I want to take Lia and Marco away with me.
Out of that bastard's reach.
Lucio will never give her permission to take his son out of the country.
Maybe the divorce judge will.
Berno...
no Italian judge is gonna go against the father's wishes...
in a case like this.
Did Lia drive to Milano or fly?
Mr Minister, what effect...
will the killing of the Gagliani boy have on your party?
None.
And the link with the French Brigades?
At this point we have very little to go on.
Mr President, was it really the Red Brigade?
The Gagliani boy?
Piero Gagliani was shot in the back of the head.
It was a criminal action.
But why was he shot? Was he involved?
Certainly not. He was held for ransom and killed for convenience.
We are dealing with criminals.
Mr President, one more question please. Does your party intend to partake in...?
Here we are.
Happy to be home? Hungry?
Lena?
David?
David!
You're back.
Look.
No, no, no. First your bath. Then dinner. Then bed.
-Presents tomorrow. -No, let me go. No, no.
Let me get down.
Oh, look, I was at the airport when Aldo Moro gave this press conference.
-Did you see him on television? -I wasn't even watching.
Now...
would you like to tell me how you got in here past Lena?
And what you've done with her?
I thought you were gonna get rid of Lena.
Yes, but she's good to Marco and Lucio pays her.
-She's his spy. -I know.
So?
How did you get past her?
-Well... -What?
Italo came by.
Said he had a call from you...
saying you wouldn't be in until after midnight.
And would he please take the extra ticket...
that he had to the opera and make sure Lena got there.
So he hustled her out...
and managed to leave the door off the latch for me.
-Lena won't be back till after 11. -Italo, I do adore him.
Come to bed.
Stay away from her. This is just a warning. Stay away.
He's a pig.
If it weren't for Marco.
God, I'm so sick of it all.
Of his brutal arrogance. His filthy Lena.
I fired her.
She marked you for them.
-How do you know? -She belongs to him. She's his thing.
Last night, she must have watched.
You should have seen her when she came in.
The satisfaction on her stupid face. It wasn't from the music.
When I saw her I thought, "Oh, no, is it possible?"
"Could she have a lover?"
"Has some blind man, some cretino, brought himself to fuck Lena?"
We must be careful.
My lawyers say for now I must be very, very careful.
Do you realize we've never even been able to wake up together?
Never been able to just wake up and roll over and smile...
because we're still together and it's another day.
It will get better. I promise you.
I have to go and pick up Marco from school.
-I'll see you tomorrow. -Yeah.
Do you love me?
Yes, I love you.
Daddy's coming right down.
Hello, Lucio.
Papa!
Why Milan?
Your father's estate has been settled for ages.
So what's in Milan? Or rather who's in Milan?
Marco and I will move to Milan as soon as they court allows.
The court will allow you nothing.
When this is over, I'll have Marco and we'll go to Milan or even abroad.
Never.
We could move to Switzerland.
I've heard the Swiss take a hard line on wife beaters.
The next time I beat you...
maybe I will finally kill you...
and I'll make certain that it's in Italy.
Southern Italy.
What do you say to a rendezvous in Sicily?
Would you risk Sicily with me?
No more games, Lucio. I'm not afraid of you anymore.
-Thank you for coming. -What is it? What happened?
Lucio. Lucio.
He says I'm morally unfit to be the mother of his son.
-He's trying to take Marco... -Why, because of me?
I don't know. All I know is he went to a judge and sworn out some papers.
-Can he do that? Can he get custody? -I don't think so. Not finally.
But it's just that, if he can't strike out at me directly...
he tries to inflict the pain from a distance.
I cannot believe there's no way to get that son of a bitch off your back.
This is Italy.
Then where's the fucking mafia? We'll have him wiped.
David, ciao.
I tried to telephone you all day. I can never get through to place.
So what else is new? Hey, come up to my office.
-I'll buy you a coffee. -Okay.
Listen, I spoke to Lia. She told me what happened.
-Are you okay? -Yeah, just some bruises.
Those boys were experts.
It's really something, isn't it? Incredible.
Christ, how do you get that stuff? How could she know?
I don't know that should could know...
unless she had some kind of connection with the Red Brigade.
But that's highly doubtful.
Very serious people.
The reason I was trying to get ahold of you...
is because Bernier is giving a party tomorrow.
For some bizarre reason, he invited the staff.
I can take a guest but Lia can't make it.
-You want to come? -Sure. I've heard about his villa.
Is it true that Berniers works for the CIA?
Doing what? Running kiddie spies?
Where does all the money come from? That paper can't make anything.
His wife's loaded.
Maybe she's CIA.
Wait till you meet her.
David!
-How are you? -Just fine.
David. I have a present for you.
This time you're not going to get away from me.
Thank you for inviting us, Pierre.
And may I introduce my friend, this is Professore Italo Bianchi.
Professore Bianchi is head of English and American literature at the University.
Alison.
This is David Raybourne and Professore Bianchi.
Gentlemen, this is the hottest talent to hit this town in a long time.
The lady who shot the cover of this week's "Time" magazine.
-Alison King. -Pierre!
-What now? -Pierre.
Pierre!
Pierre.
Pierre. Oh, Pierre.
You must lead a very, very charmed life, Ms King.
How did you get that stuff? Were you tipped off or what?
-Blind luck. -Seriously?
You were just standing there, camera loaded and ready...
-when they came out of the bank? -Well, not exactly.
Anyway, what are you doing here in Dodge City?
I work for Bernier.
-You look familiar. Have we met? -I guarantee you, I'd remember.
You work at the university, right?
So do you think the Gagliani boy was connected to the Red Brigades?
No. No, I doubt it very much.
Why? I mean, why was a Gagliani heir living so openly, so unprotected in Rome?
If he wasn't connected, if he wasn't a sympathizer...
then he was at least provocative.
I think he set it up for them.
I think they got the money and they killed him anyway.
Nobody move. We're the Red Brigade.
-Whose house is this? -I don't know.
-Who's your boss? -I don't know.
-Do you want to die for him? -No.
It's him.
First, you don't do your job and now you betray me.
Your wallet.
-I said your wallet. -I don't have it.
It doesn't come off.
The first one who moves is dead.
I could have gotten killed for this.
I'm sorry. It's important to me.
You can drop me off at the bridge, Italo.
I'll get out here, too.
I've got some business to discuss with David.
Can I come by the university and see you?
I think you know more about the Red Brigades than you think you know.
All I know about the Red Brigades can be read in any magazine or newspaper.
But I should be most happy to have you come see me...
for any reason whatever.
Come on, you must know some of your students...
were sympathizers at least.
-I don't know that. -What about the Gagliani boy?
What was he like?
He was a quiet boy.
Goodnight.
Thanks.
I'll talk to you tomorrow.
Ciao.
About the watch.
The first time I put my life on the line to get a picture was in Saigon.
I saw him throw the bomb.
And in a millisecond, I decided to stand my ground.
So when the bomb went off, the camera was to my eye...
and I caught the explosion in stop frames.
One minute the crowd was sitting there...
having their morning croissants and coffee.
The next minute, everything was airborne.
Chairs, tables, arms, legs.
And then it was all over.
And I was still standing, still shooting...
deliberately snapped a few photos to steady myself...
before I waded into the gore and finished my roll.
And the next week, I bought myself this very expensive watch.
Every time I look at it, I'm reminded that I can face any catastrophe...
as long as it's framed.
A lot of people are repelled by what I do.
But I want them to look at my pictures and see what I've seen...
and feel what I've felt.
To be witnesses.
My job is to bring back the bad news and keep the body count.
About your friend, Bianchi...
what are his politics?
Confused.
He's an extremely intelligent man. And a decent one.
He's seen his country follow Mussolini into the chasm.
Then watched as the Christian Democrats tried to flush it down the toilet.
And then try and get in bed with the Communist party.
He's trying to teach young people who are so disgusted with it.
All that all they can think to do is trash it, tear the whole thing down.
-Well, does he agree with them? -Of course he doesn't agree with them.
Italo comes from a very well to do, correct Roman family.
He's not a revolutionary.
He's just disgusted and sad.
He like to be Canadian.
Italo is not going to lead you to the Red Brigades.
What about Pierre Bernier?
My agent in New York gave me his name.
He said he was very well connected...
and might have some contact with the Brigades.
Not unless they hang out at the Press Club.
What about your politics?
Americans in Rome don't need politics. They need American Express cards.
-I've seen that all over the city. -Do you know what it means?
-No, what? -It means the man was an informer...
and the Red Brigades found out.
I wanna do a book about the Red Brigades. But it's been like chasing smoke.
You know, something from their point of view.
Terrorism from the inside.
-Like looking down a gun barrel? -Why not?
That's how journalist get knee capped or killed.
-How long have you been in Rome? -Five years.
Haven't you ever thought about doing a book?
Every journalist thinks about doing a book.
Good night.
-Wait, I'll walk you to your hotel. -Hey, that's all right. Thanks.
I know the way. Goodnight.
-They didn't tell me I'd have visitors. -So?
How long are you staying?
Forget it.
There's food, drink, help yourselves.
Leave us alone.
We've got to talk.
Get out of here.
Go.
The bathroom?
Si.
CIA contact. CIA contact. Come on, who could it be? Who could it be?
Of course, Bernier. Pierre Bernier.
My CIA contact was Pierre Bernier...
who worked as an editor of the English language newspaper.
Far from being suspected of radical sympathies...
people believed he was a buffoon.
But in reality, he was a very important operative of the CIA.
Oh, come on, David.
Hey there, this is Alison King.
Now listen, before you say anything...
I've booked a table for lunch at Dal Bolognese.
I've been doing a little research.
I had my agent call your agent.
I know you're writing a book.
I also know that you got a publishing deal in New York.
-So? -So why didn't you tell me?
There's nothing to tell. It's not your kind of book.
What is my kind of book?
Well, it's not the kind of book I'm writing.
"Rome on 10 dollars a Day If You Like Spaghetti”"
Cute? My publisher thinks so.
You're what's cute.
I got it from our picture library in New York.
Boston University.
1959, David Raybourne. Student Radical.
Led a few demonstrations.
"Anti-war. Pro abortion. Knee jerk liberal." So what?
And here's one I took of you.
I knew I'd seen you somewhere before.
Not a demonstration or a sit in.
You were the people that blew up that house...
on West 12th Street.
Eleventh.
So don't give me any more bullshit about Rome and spaghetti. Okay?
I know you're writing a book about the Red Brigades.
And I want in.
-Just like that. -You'd be very lucky to have me aboard.
Anything a book by you could do on its own...
it could do 10 times with photos by Alison King.
I'm sure you're right.
-But I gotta get back to the office. -The check's already been taken care of.
Ciao, Gracie.
Look, would I or any other writer with half a brain...
doing a story about the Red Brigade try and shut out an Alison King?
If I was doing a story about the Brigades...
I'd get down on my knees to have you illustrate it.
You were never indicted in the bombing in New York. Why not?
Because I wasn't guilty.
Sure.
Look.
I had known somebody who was involved.
Peter Weiss.
He was in two of my classes. We were friends.
He lived in an apartment with six other people.
So sometimes he'd come up into my place and crash.
The FBI got pictures of us together. Peter going in and out of the apartment.
What happened to Peter, who he was.
Look Alison, I am not and never have been a revolutionary.
Yeah.
Well, the book you're writing is not and never will be about spaghetti.
-We do not want to get into this. -Well then, don't!
That son of a bitch tried to rip my fucking arm off.
It's just a bruise.
What do you think?
What I think...
what I think is you're one of those people who's come to love war.
Well, it happens.
Does that make me unattractive to you?
I'm involved.
-Well, goodness gracious. -Yes. Even heavens to Betsy.
Thanks.
Zoom.
He's ready for bed. He wants to know if he can have a story.
Yes, yes, yes, yes.
You're a hell of a lot cuter than Lena. You know that?
Gracie.
Yes, he can have a story.
Paddington Bear. Paddington Bear.
-Paddington Bear. -Paddington Bear. Paddington Bear.
Italo should have children of his own.
Do you want children, David?
I'd settle for Marco.
You'd make a wonderful wife.
Thank you very much.
Speaking of possible wives, how's Ms King?
I called to ask her to lunch yesterday. She said she was seeing you.
Yeah, she came by the paper.
After lunch we got caught in a demonstration.
She almost got us killed with the goddamn camera of hers.
She's got a death wish.
You interested?
She's beautiful, gifted, intelligent.
You already have a girlfriend who's all those things.
But Ms King is also interested in you.
She's got some idea, some totally weird idea...
that I can put her in touch with the Red Brigades.
-Brigades? Why you? -I have no idea. She's fixated.
There's this book that she thinks I'm writing.
-She thinks you're writing? -Well, that I am writing.
Sort of. Trying to write.
-Really, what about? -Oh, it's just this sort of...
how to be a young and impoverished American in love with Rome.
-You mean a travel book. -Well, yeah. Kind of.
I signed a very small deal when I was in New York.
David, why didn't you say anything? Congratulations. Complemente.
Lia, did you know that he was writing a book.
-What? David, is it true? -It's nothing to get excited about.
Of course it is. What is it about?
It's... It's not about anything. It's not even written yet.
I have some notes and very few of those. I'm hungry. Come on, let's eat.
Is it about me?
-Giovanni. -Bianchi.
I found out all I can about the American woman.
She's a well-known photojournalist.
She's very interested in our friends...
and it seems she's in Rome specifically to make contact.
What does she say about the pictures at the bank?
-That it was a coincidence. -And what do you think?
I don't know.
She could be Intelligence but somehow I don't think so.
Continue to watch her.
Right, look the friends at my apartment. Why didn't you warn me?
It was not appropriate. Ciao, Italo.
But this guy who founded the Red Brigades, Curio?
Curcio. Renato Curcio.
So how come he's been in jail for two years?
I mean, with their fire power and all they got going...
how come they haven't busted out their leaders?
It's not that easy when the government's expecting you.
So why don't they heist the Pope as hostage?
They don't need the church as an enemy.
Okay, so someone like the Fiat guy, Agnelli.
I mean, the government would trade him for Curio.
Agnelli has a private army around him 24 hours a day.
If the Brigade had any smarts...
there's one guy they could take...
and the government would have to negotiate.
Take a look through those, would you? Try and see what I mean by a new layout.
Who?
-Who'd they have to negotiate for? -Well, work it out, can't you?
You're supposed to know something about this country.
All I know is how to live cheap. Who?
Now who was it who tricked the Communists...
into a compromise with the Christian Democrats?
Moro.
Prime minister five times.
He knows where all the bodies are buried.
The government would have to pay to get him back.
-Goodnight. -Goodnight.
I wanted some coffee but the place is for sale.
Look, I just want to say, I was out of line the other night.
Oh, forget it. I asked for it.
Anyway, I appreciate that you met me here.
Against my better judgment.
Look, I'll tell you why I asked you.
Your buddy Bianchi keeps giving me the brush off.
No, Alison. Don't do that.
Alison, please put it away.
For God's sake, Alison, put the goddamn thing away.
Look.
Sorry, okay?
Gracie. You are too goddamn dumb and dangerous to be around.
You said to come up and see you some time. How are you?
-David, why did you bring her here? -She brought me.
Alison, no, no. Please, no.
Cara, please. My good side. My Cary Grant side.
Did the Red Brigades organize this?
Alison, you must understand...
if you start asking questions about the Red Brigades...
you're putting yourself in much more danger than you realize.
What do you advise your students?
I don't advise. This isn't Berkeley. I don't play the guru. I tried to teach.
I just don't believe anyone can stay detached from all this.
Talk to me.
David, David, will you please explain to her...
-that this is dangerous. -I'm not asking for any secrets.
Who do you think I work for? The CIA.
That's the general assumption about Americans.
Another time, perhaps.
Well, that was a trip to the moon.
Doesn't it bum you out...
not to connect with what's going on in this country?
I never have any trouble finding what I want in Italy.
But then I don't feel any desire to grab a live wire.
Come on. You're a good writer. How come you're not after the big story?
I'm busy with other things.
Like what? I've seen "The American News". It doesn't utilize half your talent.
I seem to be applying most of my talent just trying to keep you alive.
Oh, come on. Don't hide behind wisecracks.
-You sound like a refugee from the '60s. -My least favorite decade.
I'm surprised. I thought you would have loved it.
Ten years of phoniness. A decade long circle jerk.
So you're not what you sound like. The last hippy drop out.
Drop out?
For Christ's sake, I didn't move to Marin County...
and kick back in a hot tub.
I dropped in.
I moved to Italy.
Speaking of dropping, you want to know where to drop me off?
-Yes, please. Where? -Your place.
So...
now we're all here.
I don't want to get up just yet. Okay?
You don't have to. I was just writing you a note.
Just lock the door and slide the key under it...
when you go. Okay?
Will you come back for lunch?
I could.
Alison...
You told me there was someone in your life.
I understand.
I'll see you later.
Ciao, Maria.
-It's very good. Really? -You are unbelievable. Do you know that?
Why did you tell me you were writing a travel book?
-It is not what you think. It's a novel. -A novel?
About a left wing professor named Italo Bianchi?
About a... An editor named Pierre Bernier? A politician named Aldo Moro.
A terrorists' leader named Renato Curcio and Nello Mor... Morucci?
There's no such person as Nello Morucci. I made him up.
Well, then he's the only one because everybody else is real.
It is a fucking novel. It is the first draft of a fucking novel.
I'm gonna change all the names.
Nobody's gonna be recognizable when I'm finished.
It's gonna be like "Day of the Jackal "...
General de Gaulle mixed up with fictional ones.
I don't believe you.
-It reads like a piece of hard journalism. -It's meant to.
Every piece of information in that manuscript...
has already been published somewhere else.
-What about the plot to kidnap Aldo Moro? -That is the goddamn plot of the novel.
A novel that was written by a man who penetrated a terrorist cell.
No one has ever penetrated a terrorist cell.
I know one journalist who tried.
And he got himself shot in the head and left to die in front of his wife.
And maybe that is your idea of an acceptable risk but it is not mine.
You're really good, David.
You know, I almost might believe you...
if I didn't know something about your life.
You know what I think?
I think you were in on that bombing in the Village.
I think you diddled the FBI, got loose, came over here, made some contacts...
-and now you've got yourself a deal. -Just fuck off.
I want you out of here now and I'll take the manuscript, please.
Did David mention anything to you about writing a novel?
A novel? Oh, no.
He has a publisher for a kind of a travel book. About Rome.
No. A novel about the Red Brigades.
David doesn't know anything about the Red Brigades.
Yeah. That's what he says.
Nobody knows nothing, right?
Look, this is so infuriating.
I'm gonna ask you a few questions?
And I'd appreciate some answers.
I won.
-I won. -No, we let you win.
-Give me the keys, David. -I don't have them. You drove.
-No. I gave you the keys. -You didn't give me the keys.
David, I gave you the keys to you when I came out.
You didn't. Why do you always do this? You didn't give me the keys.
Look in your pocket.
-I have the keys. -I thought so.
Giovanni.
I spoke further with the American woman.
I'm sure she has no connections with the CIA.
She doesn't ask questions the CIA would ask.
She asks only things they would already know.
For example?
She read some half-finished novel about a kidnapping.
What kidnapping?
Oh, some ridiculous story about Aldo Moro.
Who wrote this story?
Just some friend.
-Do you know this friend? -Yes.
That is... I know him.
Really?
I don't know his name.
Get his name and address from the American woman.
Then get the manuscript and take it to your apartment.
I'll try.
It may take several days.
-Tonight. -That's impossible.
Tonight.
Not again.
I don't want you to pretend, even to yourself that you'll stay with me.
What are you so afraid of?
Getting hurt again or making a mistake with a penniless American?
David, it's not the money.
Or getting hurt.
What?
It's knowing that some things are real and some not.
I can't explain.
Giovanni.
Manuscript?
Leave me alone for a while.
Your voice is different.
Get me some tea, professore.
Ms King's room please.
Alison, somebody trashed my apartment and stole the manuscript.
My passport and money are here. Just the transcript is missing.
-Did you...? -David, I swear to God...
I did not take your manuscript. I would never...
-Did you talk to anyone about it? -I saw Italo yesterday.
All I said was that you'd written a novel.
Where the hell is Raybourne?
I don't know.
When he gets here, send him over to the cafe.
-I'm going to lunch. -Yes, Mr Bernier.
David, will you tell him we're just here on a student visa.
We're not trying to take anybody's' jobs away.
Officer, you can see the situation.
What more can I say?
You don't have any work permits, right? You'll have to come with me. All of you.
Worst they can do is kick us out of the country.
-David. -What?
Hey, where are you going? Make it quick.
-Gracie. -Telefono.
Pronto.
-I've been trying to reach you. -Bernier's been murdered.
I know. I have to see you now.
We've just been busted for having no work permits.
That's the best response the cops have got to a murder.
-They're taking us down to the station. -David, you have to get away.
Lives depend on it. Do you understand? Lives.
I have something of yours. At the Cafe Borghese.
You've got to get here.
David.
-One minute my passport. -David.
Sit down, David.
-I'm sorry. We're closed. -Could I have a coffee, please?
Yes.
Finally, I became so disgusted with the greed and corruption...
the total indifference to anything or anyone outside...
Pier...
-Piero. -Piero? Piero who? Gagliani?
We were friends.
Close friends.
He loathed his father, that world.
He understood how I felt about what was happening to Italy.
And that I sympathized with other elements.
One of those other elements who got him killed?
It was an accident.
He set up the kidnapping himself.
He was in the trunk for too long. The exhaust pipe was defective.
They had to shoot him to make it look like an execution.
-An execution for what? -For being what he was. A Gagliani.
And why did they kill Bernier? For being what he was? An asshole?
Your book said that he was CIA.
That book which you, my friend, stole like some hair brained opera bouffe...
Don't you understand? They would have killed me.
And maybe also Lia.
These are serious people.
They're fighting and putting their own lives on the line...
to overthrow the government. They...
-They're going to take over this country. -Oh, bullshit.
They're not gonna take over anything.
All they're doing is killing a lot of innocent people.
They're gonna wind up dead themselves.
Now let me tell you something, Italo.
And I'm going to tell you this very, very straight.
I was trying to write a commercial novel.
I want money.
I want to marry Lia and take care of her.
I thought the Red Brigades were a sure fire topic.
I've been interested in terrorism.
I wanted to write a successful novel.
I wanted to write a big novel...
so I could tell Bernier to shove it up his ass.
There's not one single fucking incident in that book...
which has not been printed somewhere else.
I have had no connection ever with any Red Brigade.
Apart from you.
The Aldo Moro kidnapping was an idea I got from Bernier for Christ's sake.
-Do you think I would be stupid enough? -Tell them that.
You must tell them that.
That Moro has something that Bernier told you.
Tell... Tell who?
David...
-you're going to have to talk to them. -Jesus Christ, I've hit on it. Haven't I?
They're actually going to try and kidnap Aldo Moro.
They'll have to hold you for a few days but you must talk to them tonight.
-Who I've got to talk to is the police. -No, no, David. You must come with me.
-Am I fucking feeble-minded or something? -Don't make them come for you.
Please, I don't... I don't want to lose you.
-Do you have the time? -I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian.
Tell him to stand up. Or I'll shoot him.
I'll kill you and maybe a few others.
-My treat. -I understand.
Now leave with Professor Bianchi nice and easy.
-Search him. -He's clean.
Search him.
You don't have much time.
-Who told you about operation Moro? -Nobody. I made it up.
-It is the plot of my novel. -It's true. He knows nothing.
Now tell me the truth.
I told you. It's a goddamn fairy tale.
The American photographer.
-Does she work for the CIA? -No.
And neither did Bernier.
You killed him for nothing.
The French faction??? they are the ones who betrayed us. Right?
I...
Can't you see he is telling the truth?
I'm not taking the blame for a leak in my section.
There are some questions for you to answer.
No.
-Hello? -Ms King?
-Yeah. Who is this? -I have a car downstairs.
Italo Bianchi has sent me.
There's something he thinks you should see.
Okay, I'll be right down.
Ms King?
Move!
Bernier is dead. Italo Bianchi is dead. We're next.
David!
-Pronto? -Lia, I can't explain.
There's a possibility you're in danger. Take Marco and get out of the apartment.
Marco's with his father. Where are you?
We're trying to get to the American Embassy.
Somebody's trying to kill us. Now, listen to me.
Listen to me carefully. Italo... Italo's been shot.
-Now they're after Alison King and me. -Oh, God.
-She's with me now. We just got away. -I'll bring my car.
Tell me where you are.
What theater are we at? The Majestic Cinema.
Get down, Alison.
Where is Italo?
He's in the Borghese Gardens.
I heard about Bernier on television.
-But Italo... -Lia, Italo was connected...
with the Red Brigades.
-Where are we going? -Don't worry. I know the way.
Get out.
-Both of you? -Italo did not know about me.
He was just emotionally involved.
Through a lover. The Gagliani boy.
Do you understand?
I was supposed to keep watch over Italo.
-I failed. -Enough.
If I'd known the Moro thing was real...
don't you think I'd have warned somebody earlier?
Maybe you did.
That is something we have to know.
I was going to the Embassy to do it.
We only have your word for that.
Ask Lia.
Who else knows about what you are writing?
Apart from Ms King.
Nobody.
What did you say to Lia before we picked you up?
What did she say to you in those five minutes.
Nothing. She didn't know I was writing. I swear to God.
You look cold.
Do you want some tea?
Tea?
Why? Why would I have done such a thing?
I've given my life to the movement, for God's sake.
You're not risking your life.
You've always been allowed...
to go on living extremely...
comfortably...
as you've always done.
By whose choice?
By mine?
I hate the life I'm leading.
-How many times have I asked...? -Each of us performs...
as we are most useful.
It's absurd...
that a woman like you with your inclinations.
What inclinations?
Now we are getting to the point.
You're just a bourgeoisie...
going from one man to another.
What do you mean "bourgeoisie"?
I already told you he doesn't know anything.
He doesn't know anything.
My life must look normal.
Perfectly normal.
He's a cover. He's a cover, just like these clothes I'm wearing...
like the house I live in.
You were the ones who wanted this.
I am committed. Totally, totally. Like we all are committed.
-Was Bianchi in love with David Raybourne? -No.
I don't know.
You were responsible for your cousin.
You are known to our associates in many countries.
Why?
It's my business to travel, to be where the action is.
-Political action? -Military action.
-But you have political views. -Nothing I'd put on a mask for...
and go out and kill people.
Though I know it happens.
I've seen it often.
And I've seen why it happens.
And I know that it will always happen.
Even in this world that you think you're gonna make over.
And I'll still take pictures of it.
That's what I do.
It's done.
Now it begins.
So I am no longer a suspect.
The question is academic.
Even if they warned no one, even if they saw nothing...
now they know too much.
-You're not going to kill them? -No.
No. We'll send them out of Italy.
We'll send them out of Italy. That's all.
Riot police were deployed all over Rome, and other major cities...
as general strikes paralyzed the country...
in the wake of the Moro kidnapping.
Never has an event so affected, the Italian Nation...
as the Red Brigade abduction of former Prime Minister, Aldo Moro.
The terrorists have demanded the release of their leader Renato Curcio...
and other Red Brigade officers.
The Government refused to negotiate...
following the example of Israel and West Germany.
Meantime, from Washington, London, Paris...
Mr Raybourne, we took the liberty of collecting your passport...
from your apartment.
Ms King...
I assume you have yours with you.
Do not lose your passports. You will need them.
I'm afraid we shall have to blindfold you.
We do not want you identifying your whereabouts too easily.
Come, please.
You promised me.
Go.
You may remove your blindfolds.
I can't help you.
I can't.
Take pictures. Tell the world how we deal with traitors.
Do it.
Get him out of here.
Why does anyone write a book?
To get something off their chest?
To accuse?
To make money?
It would be interesting for us over here...
to get a comment from you over there, Alison,
on terrorism, vis a vis the media.
Dick, here in Beirut, it's the terrorist who call the media shots.
-We're at their service. -Right.
Well, David, what does that say about a bestselling book like "Year of the Gun"?
Does it promote and prolong terrorism?
Well, my book certainly doesn't promote terrorism. I...
simply wanted to tell the truth.
But then when you start to write it down, it turns into something else.
I'm not sure what.
But you just try and do the best you can and hope to live with it.
Have to live with it.
Sure we take the more cosmic view.
The Thirty Year War kept up its merry momentum...
without any help from our profession.
I don't think those of us...
who simply record events are that important finally.
But maybe that's the biggest thing we have to live with.
Well, what you have to live with...
has certainly turned into a huge bestseller.
Thank you, Alison, for being with us via satellite from Beirut.
And, of course, Mr Raybourne, thank you, too.
Again.
When we come back from the commercial...
we will meet the United Nations ambassador from Iran...
Mr Fereydou Hoveyda. Right after this. Be with us.
-Okay, we're off. -Great.
-Well, thank you in real life. -Bring them on, guys.
So to speak.
Mr Ambassador, nice to see you.
I wanted to meet you because...