Spider

EPILOGUE

Three months later What does not destroy me, makes me stronger. Friedrich Nietzsche San Quirico D'Orcia, Tuscany For the first time in the three and a half years that they've been here, La Casa Strada is free of tourists and strangers. That's not to say that all its rooms aren't fully occupied.

The celebration party was Nancy's idea. And everyone is agreed that it is a very fine one.

It is still warm enough to take drinks on the terrace overlooking the historic, undulating beauty of the Val D'Orcia, and several guests stand together finding peace and beauty in the views they're blessed with. Massimo, Orsetta, Benito and Roberto have travelled up from Rome, and they stand huddled in a group, babbling Italian at machine-gun speed as waitresses serve them the finest wines that Tuscany can offer. Terry McLeod has been invited back, and this time he hasn't needed to cheat or lie his way into the action.

Nancy glances at the one area that still gives her discomfort. As soon as the forensic teams had gone from her garden, she'd brought in Mr Capello, his team of landscapers and their equipment. She had the entrance to the catacombs sealed up with enough ready-mixed concrete to cover Manhattan, but the blocked-up catacombs still give her the shivers. Her eyes fall on her son Zack, riding his trike across the terrace, making sure he never leaves her sight. Since the incident he's been quieter than his parents had ever known and he still insists on sleeping in their bed every night. But he's on the mend and in bright sunshine, playing noisily, a smile returns to his face.

Her home is a crime scene no more. And she never wants to be reminded that it once was.

Nancy leaves Jack's arm for a moment to check in the kitchen on how long dinner is going to be. Paolo is preparing a special six-course feast, ending with Jack's favourite Zabaoine. The aroma of roasting pork drifts in the early autumnal air, sharpening the appetites of the waiting guests.

Howie has repeatedly declined the local wines, and instead has drunk everyone's quota of Bud. He's come alone, but lives in hope that he and Carrie might get back together in time for Christmas.

FBI Field Office Director Joe Marsh cleared his diary and crossed the Atlantic to be here. Jack awkwardly holds out his left hand as they greet each other in a corner on the sunlit terrace. His right hand is still heavily strapped and is going to need physiotherapy to repair the nerve damage caused by the knife wound.

'Still hurting?' asks Marsh as they get chatting.

'Some,' says Jack, slowly wriggling the end of his fingers. 'But not as much as my pride.'

Marsh looks at him quizzically. 'Meaning?' 'Well, to tell the truth, I'm still blaming myself for not reading BRK's strategy. If I had done, then I would have saved us all a lot of grief.' He looks up to make sure Nancy isn't nearby; he's been given strict instructions not to talk about the case. 'BRK staged the Kearney incident because he hadn't killed for a while and he feared that we had forgotten him. By picking the twentieth anniversary of when Sarah's body was found, he was fairly certain we'd put it down to him, but just to make sure, he wrote my name on the package containing her skull.' Jack pauses while Marsh takes a drink from a tray offered by a passing waitress. 'BRK gambled that the incident would reactivate the FBI investigation and put him back centre stage. Just as he gambled that if he killed in Livorno, it would be close enough for the Italians to come and try to persuade me to stop sitting around playing at hotels and get involved in the police case.' Jack nods towards the group of Italian detectives. 'Orsetta was right, I was the elephant in the room, I just couldn't see it.'

Marsh frowns. 'You were an elephant?' Jack smiles. 'Yeah, I was the link between the US, Italy, Sarah Kearney, BRK and the Barbuggiani girl, only I couldn't see it. For years people had been telling me to stop taking the BRK case personally, so I guess I had.'

Marsh agrees and takes a sip of his white wine. 'Whereas, in hindsight, we know that this last affair was personal. BRK was intent on getting you back to New York, to kill you in his father's old house, and at the same time to attack your unprotected family.'

'Yeah, that's about it. He had us all chasing around in America, while the big show was about to go down in Italy.' Jack grimaces as he thinks how close the serial killer had come to adding to his death toll. 'And let's not forget that this sick fuck would have enjoyed planning all that. He would have fantasized for years about carrying out these killings, and I guess Sarah's anniversary gave him the nudge to try to push fantasy into reality.'

'Almost ready,' shouts Nancy, her eyes fixed disapprovingly on Jack and Marsh.

Carlo quietly makes his way over to his boss and whispers discreetly in her ear, in the way that only the best of matred's can manage. She nods and instructs her waitresses to top up everyone's glasses.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' says Nancy, raising her voice to grab their attention, 'Jack and I want to say a special thank you to you all for coming here. I think you know that you all now have a unique place in our hearts. But before we raise our glasses and toast the wonderful fact that we are all alive and healthy, I want you to give a very warm welcome to our most special guest of all.' She waits a beat and then waves a hand back towards the hotel.

All heads turn.

Down the patio, walking gingerly with the aid of crutches, comes Ludmila Zagalsky. Her face reveals the widest and happiest of smiles.

Half a step behind her walks a tall young Chechen man with a kindly smile and a steadying hand.

As the applause dies down, Joe Marsh checks that he can't be overheard and then puts his hand on his host's shoulder. 'Jack, I'll give this to you straight, I need you back on the team. We've got a case over in the States that we really could do with your help on.'