Spider

35

Rome None of the offices smelled more of stale tobacco than that of Massimo Albonetti, head of the Ufficio Investigativo Centrale di Psicologia Criminale, an elite offshoot of the Unita di Analisi del Crimine Violento, modelled on the FBI's famed National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime in Quantico. Crammed inside Massimo's nicotine den, in preparation for Jack King's visit, were Orsetta, case coordinator Benito Patrizio and assistant analyst Roberto Barcucci. In readiness for working with Jack, they were instructed to speak English, not Italian, though they all knew Massimo would be the first to lapse into their native tongue.

The Director's desk was cleared of all unrelated papers and files, leaving only a dark green leather-framed ink-blotter, a hard-backed faintly lined notebook, a cheap police-issue ballpoint pen, and a black-and-white photograph of Cristina Barbuggiani's face that seemed to stare right up at him. Massimo pressed a buzzer on his desk and spoke to Claudia, his secretary, who patrolled the other side of his office like a pit-bull guarding a sirloin steak. 'Claudia, please bring some water, juices, sodas and a double espresso for me. Grazie.'

He flicked off the buzzer and gently touched Cristina's picture before addressing his team. 'Orsetta, Jack will be staying at the Grand Plaza on Via del Corso. He's booked in for two nights, please authorize Admin to reserve a third. Have an unmarked car waiting to pick him up from the train station and take him straight there. He should be arriving around ten p.m.' Massimo thought once more about the transportation for Jack. 'Don't let them send an owl, make it a VIP sedan with a driver, I want him fully refreshed by the time he has got through our blessed traffic. The following morning have the same car and the same driver bring him to my office. I'll probably drop him back at the Plaza myself at the end of the day.'

'I head home that way, Direttore,' said Orsetta. 'I don't mind dropping him off myself.'

Massimo studied her face and thought about teasing her. It was only natural that she'd be intrigued by someone as well thought of as Jack King; come to think of it, he'd probably planted the seeds himself by quoting Jack's theories during many of his case conferences. 'Very kind of you, Orsetta. I'll keep it in mind and call you should I need you,' he said playfully.

Orsetta, dressed simply in figure-hugging black trousers and a long-collared white cotton blouse, felt herself blush as Massimo's brown eyes appeared to x-ray her mind. What the hell, she had decided that Jack King was special and she hoped something special was going to happen when they met again.

'Roberto, have all the translations been finished? My old friend Jack is American; he can barely speak English let alone Italian.'

'Si, Direttore,' laughed the assistant. He was so young and fresh-faced that Massimo didn't think the kid had even started shaving. A blessing he should enjoy while it lasted. 'We have done overviews of the main witness statements, a summary report on the major actions carried out and their results, also a forensics overview, with a run-down on soil and substance analysis. We're still running traces on the black plastic bags that the body parts were found in. It all takes time and right now we are short-handed.'

'Chase it, Roberto. You need more men, ask now, not in two weeks, when it is too late.' Massimo fixed his eyes on him, making sure the lesson was being learned.

'I need two more people,' replied Roberto quickly. 'Maybe three shifts each?'

'Then you'll have them, my young colleague,' said Massimo with a generous smile. 'What else?'

Roberto cleared his throat. We have translations of the summaries on fingerprints and DNA, but we have no known matches to any offenders.'

'Then, for the moment, keep looking,' instructed Massimo, silently cursing the fact that, unlike the FBI, the Italian Forensic Science Service did not have a fully integrated DNA database on which to carry out searches. It had established CODIS, its own highly efficient Combined DNA Index System as far back as 1999 but the national police, the carabinieri and many other public and private bodies continued to have separate databases that were not connected to CODIS. Moreover, the databases were so zealously guarded that often Massimo's unit had to apply to prosecutors or judges to instruct the owners to release information.

Massimo tried to put the DNA tangle out of his thoughts and pressed on. 'We're all presuming that this BRK is American, and that he is the FBI's problem and will stay the FBI's problem. But a murder here in Italy changes all that. It makes it our problem. My problem, your problem, our problem.' His eyes roamed over them, picking them out one at a time. 'You all understand me?'

'Si, Direttore,' they managed, apologetically and not in unison.

'So why Italy?' continued Massimo, rubbing his big bald head while looking at his team for answers. 'Come on; give me some of your thoughts.'

Roberto went first, 'He's moved here, this is now his home. His job has brought him to Italy.'

'Possibly,' said Massimo. 'Next.'

'Holiday,' suggested Benito, the case coordinator. 'Even serial killers have holidays. Perhaps he just had the opportunity to kill while he was here.'

'Next,' said Massimo.

'Perhaps Cristina Barbuggiani had been on holiday in America and he came over to visit her,' offered Orsetta.

'Check it,' said Massimo. 'Ask her family where she'd recently been on vacation, and whether there were any foreign friends that she spoke of.'

'What if this serial killer turns out to be Italian?' suggested Roberto. 'Maybe he came from Rome originally, then moved to America like many Italians do, and now, after a long and illustrious career killing Americans, he has decided to come back home and settle here.'

'Then why kill here?' questioned Massimo. 'I could understand a killer, perhaps of Italian blood, coming back to his native home to give it all up, to turn his back on the murders and live out the last of his days in the sunshine, a long and happy way from anyone investigating his crimes. But not to kill here. A dog does not shit in his own basket.'

'I have a dog that shits everywhere, including his own basket,' argued Benito, stroking a straggly black goatee that Massimo desperately wanted to cut off.

'Good point,' said Massimo. 'We should not close our minds to the fact that this man is an exception to all the rules we know, and that he will never stop killing. He is not a burned-out businessman looking for a place in the sun to retire to and rest his old bones in. He is a predator, looking for new prey, thirsting for fresh blood, and perhaps he has decided that Italy is a new hunting ground for him.'

'Perhaps it's not BRK,' suggested Orsetta. 'Perhaps it's a copycat.'

'I don't buy that,' interjected Benito. 'Two killers on two different continents with the same MO, targeting the same type of victims. It's a big ask.'

'No bigger than imagining he's come all the way here just to kill,' replied Orsetta, her voice rising in defence of her theory. 'I mean, it's not like he's short of choice in America, is it? He's got three hundred million people to choose from, so why on earth would he give up such a rich hunting ground to operate in a country that is alien to him?'

'Okay, we'll chalk that up as a maybe,' said Massimo. 'But, back to my point. Why here? What's the link?'

They sat silently, dredging their minds for inspiration. 'King,' suggested Orsetta. 'If it is BRK and not a copycat, then the only link I can think of is Jack King.'

Massimo frowned. 'Jack King?'

Orsetta struggled to build on her suggestion. 'I'm not saying King is the reason BRK may be killing in Italy, I'm just saying that he appears to be the only link.'

Benito curled his beard between his fingers. 'I agree. It's the only link that I can see as well.'

Massimo thought they were getting nowhere. 'Then we are in trouble. If the only connection we can come up with is Jack King, the man I invited to help us, then indeed we have nothing to go on. I want a bottom-up evaluation of all our statements, and I mean all of them. I want every last second of Cristina Barbuggiani's life accounted for. And let me make this very clear to you. I do not want this sociopath slaughtering dozens of young girls here in Italy. I do not want a second person to die. Do you understand me?' The looks on their faces told him that they did. 'Good. First killings in new areas are never perfect. This may be our best chance to catch him. No, let me correct myself. This may be our only chance to catch him. And that is the reason I have asked Jack King to put his own health at risk in order to help us try to catch this monster – this -' Massimo was stuck for the English words to express the full venom of his hatred for Cristina Barbuggiani's killer. As he resorted to his native tongue, he respectfully covered the dead girl's picture with his big hand. 'Uno che va in culo a sua madre!'

'Motherfucker,' said Orsetta coolly. 'The word you're looking for, Direttore, is motherfucker.'