Viper

24

Stazione dei carabinieri, Castello di Cisterna The winter light faded early and temperatures plunged way below zero. Heating pipes in the carabinieri barracks coughed and banged into life like the lungs of a geriatric smoker. Sylvia, Jack and Massimo continued their case conference over the best pizza Jack had ever tasted.

'A lady in Cisterna makes it for us,' explained Sylvia. 'If she could only take the calories out then I would eat this five times a day.'

'It is good – really good,' enthused Jack. 'But tell me a little more about Francesca.'

Sylvia raised her eyes. 'You've seen the photographs, I'm told in real life she was even prettier. A quiet girl. Lived alone in a rented apartment. Had a degree in art but that only got her a job as a hairdresser. The salon had shut down just before she disappeared. Neighbours thought she'd moved elsewhere to find work. No trace of a boyfriend. At least, not in the block. She comes from a good, respectable family, nothing untoward there.'

'Not like her namesake?' asked Massimo.

Sylvia smiled at the suggestion. 'Not at all. Her parents are about as law-abiding as you can get.' She turned to Jack. 'Di Lauro is an infamous name in Naples.'

'Let me guess. Camorra, the dreaded System?'

'You got it. Paolo Di Lauro bossed the Secondigliano sector throughout the nineties. He was a real wise wise guy. He established strong trading links with gangs and businesses in China, helped exponentially extend the System's power base. He ducked out before the end of the last century but the Di Lauro dynasty lives on. Some years ago they were involved in an incredibly bloody battle with other clans. They won because they're the bloodiest. They beat a sixty-year-old Camorrista to death with baseball bats, shot a woman Capo in the face in public.'

'A woman Capo?' queried Jack.

'Certainly,' said Sylvia. 'Women have been getting top jobs in the System long before they got even lowly ones in the carabinieri.'

Massimo raised an eyebrow. 'Like the Black Widow.'

'He means Anna Mazza,' explained Sylvia. 'She bossed the Moccia clan for at least two decades.'

It was an eye-opener for Jack. The Camorra regularly made the headlines in newspapers around the world, but he hadn't realized the full length and breadth of its activities. 'To be clear, though, our girl, Francesca, she has no Camorra links at all?'

'None whatsoever,' said Sylvia. 'It's just pure coincidence that she shares the same surname. It's also the name of a famous Italian fashion designer and a well-known photojournalist.'

Jack moved on. 'And how have her parents taken the latest news?'

'I've seen them recently. They're devastated. They'd feared something bad but had always hoped the phone would ring and she'd breeze back into their lives. Her father's a sales manager for some computer company. He and his wife split up some time before Francesca vanished.'

'No record. No hint of abuse, or anything?'

She shook her head. 'Not a thing. He's a decent man. I'm sure of it.'

Massimo opened a second box of pizza and ripped off a small slice. 'You said Creed knew Francesca personally. Did he give you details about their relationship?'

Jack shook his head. 'No. It was right at the end of our meeting. To be honest, I was keen to get away from him and was losing interest until he mentioned that he knew her. I thought about that overnight and then when I returned to his hotel he'd already gone.'

Sylvia jumped in. 'I don't see them as a couple. She was gorgeous – truly beautiful. Creed, on the other hand – he looks like a sewer rat.'

'Beautiful women have been dating ugly men since the dawn of time,' said Massimo.

'Thankfully,' added Jack.

Both men laughed.

'Sure, but the ugly men usually have more charm or cash than Creed,' added Sylvia. 'I could more easily imagine him stalking Francesca than dating her.'

'My thoughts entirely,' said Jack, 'and that's what worried me. If Newark hadn't got a snowplough down their runway so quickly I might have had another meeting with him and been able to shed some serious light on this.'

Massimo's willpower snapped. He went back for a bigger slice of the pizza. 'This is my last piece; no one let me take any more.'

'Me too,' said Jack, 'I'm stuffed. When I think of Creed I think of him as being inadequate. He seeks power and control and he has traits that indicate an inferiority complex…'

Massimo nodded as he chewed. 'But that doesn't necessarily mean he's an offender. If it did, then we'd be carrying out surveillance on at least half the male population.'

Sylvia poured Coke. 'You say inadequacy. That worries me. Inadequacy is the kind of thing that can drive scrawny men like Creed to rape and murder.'

'I'm not saying Creed is killer material,' stressed Jack. 'Inadequacy and inferiority are more stalker's traits.'

'But sometimes stalkers become killers,' countered Sylvia.

'Sometimes, but it's rare,' conceded Jack. 'There's something about him. Something about this case that just kicks my gut, and I'm old enough to know that I shouldn't ignore being kicked in the gut.'

Sylvia glanced down at the thick pad of notes she'd taken during their hours together. 'You said in your statement to one of my officers that you thought Creed might be a competent psychological profiler.'

'The stuff he showed me was smart. He knew all about Criminal Geographic Targeting techniques, jeopardy areas, overlapping distance-decay functions. He'd certainly done some studying.'

'So we can't rule out that he's just genuinely interested in solving these cases?'

'No, we can't. At this stage, I don't think it wise to rule anything out – or rule anything in, for that matter.'

'Which makes him one of two things -' said Massimo.

Jack finished the sentence for him. 'I was thinking the same. Misunderstood or murderous.'

All three reached for more pizza. They needed the comfort food.