The Venice conspiracy

CHAPTER 22

Present Day Isola Mario, Venice The killer of Monica Vidic continues to watch the monitors long after Antonio is out of view. He pans the surveillance cameras left and right, then tilts and zooms in and out.

There's no further trace of the snooper.

It isn't that unusual for one of the security team to wander off their perimeter and stray into the boathouse's fifty-yard no-go zone. But this is different. The young guard hasn't appeared out of idle curiosity. No, not at all. He has something else focused on his mind.

Intrusion.

He's clearly come with the notion of breaking in.

The killer replays the tapes and smiles. Yes, indeed. The foolish boy had certainly been thinking of climbing the fence – he'd like to have seen him try – and perhaps even contemplated swimming his way to the boathouse door.

Now why would a guard do that?

And more importantly, what should be done with a guard who would want to do that?

The killer had made plans for the night. Big plans. But now they're going to have to be postponed.

On another bank of monitors – ones slaved to the security master system – he watches Antonio and Fernando say goodnight to each other, punch knuckles and go their different ways. How nice to see colleagues getting on. He switches to another covert video feed, provided by cameras hidden inside the ugly white wall domes that most people mistakenly believe are just lights. The night watchman returns to the changing hut and hunts in his locker for the stale panini and soggy torte his wife had packed for him half a day ago. The snooper dawdles down to the decked pontoon and un-ropes an old motor boat.

A very old boat, by the look of it. The killer can see its registration numbers on the side and quickly writes them down. Its name, Spirito di Vita – Spirit of Life – has been removed, but the letters have been there for so long they've left legible outlines on the craft.

On a laptop on a steel table beside the security system, he opens a file marked Personnel. A few clicks later he's reading all about Antonio Materazzi – no doubt a false name – and where he's supposed to live and his employment history.

The references and background checks look good. But he still has a bad feeling about the young guard. A very bad feeling.

Within the hour his suspicions are confirmed. The boat's number and the name Spirito di Vita don't tally. The registration tracks back to someone called Materazzi, but the Spirito has a very different history and entirely different numbers. It started life as a plaything for a businessman called Francesco di Esposito from Naples. It was then bought by a former hospital worker called Angelo Pavarotti and now apparently belongs to his son, Antonio. Antonio Materazzi is almost certainly Antonio Pavarotti. Most likely an undercover cop – a special unit of the Polizia or Carabinieri. Operatives often keep their real first names in case some local calls to them in the street; that way they can pass off the recognition without arousing suspicion.

Monica's killer shuts down the laptop and returns to the safety of the commune. A smile comes to his face. How ironic that Antonio's father, Angelo – a name meaning messenger of God – should be the one to provide him with the information on how to kill his son.