Spider

'It wasn't signed in, and we can't find anyone to say that they took possession,' answered Massimo, looking embarrassed. 'It's possible that it was just left with other mail in one of the "In" crates. We security-scan all the mail and packages, but not until they are being sorted into the different departments.'

'Do I feel a security review and tightening of procedures coming on?' asked Jack.

'Already under way,' confirmed Massimo. 'There was a courier company stamp on the box, but we've not got anything on them yet.'

'Forensics find anything on either the box or your note?' asked Jack.

'No prints. ESDA testing also came back blank. We're running a trace on the notepaper and the ink.'

Jack shook his head. 'Not much point. It'll be the commonest possible.'

Massimo hoped he was wrong. 'Don't despair too early, my friend. Even the best of criminals make mistakes.'

'Not this guy,' said Jack. 'Let me tell you how he works. Before this son of a bitch does anything, he researches the backside off it. I bet you your life savings that the pen he used to write this pornography is the most commonly used felt-tip pen in America.'

'Or Italy.'

'I bet you a hundred euros it's American. The paper too. Your researchers will draw a blank on all your Italian manufacturers, I promise you, Mass.'

Massimo shrugged. 'Then maybe we discover the paper is a particular batch, issued to a particular region, on a particular date. Your colleagues in the FBI will be able to help us with this.'

'You betcha, they've got whole databases on ink and paper,' said Jack dismissively. 'But I'll guarantee you this as welclass="underline" BRK knows we'll run those traces, he knows that eventually we will find the factory that produced the ink, the very tree the damned wood came from to make the paper.'

'What are you saying, Jack?'

'I'm saying this. He will have bought the most common paper he could get his hands on, months and months, maybe even years, ago. He'll have bought it for cash, from a giant store, in a city that he no longer has anything to do with, and in the first place was probably only passing through. Even if we trace the day, the date, the time that he purchased it, the information will lead us nowhere.'

Massimo's door opened and Claudia, his PA, came in with the espressos and some small tumblers of water.

'Grazie,' said Massimo. Claudia smiled and left as quietly as a burglar.

'You want this?' Mass held out a cup of coffee to Jack.

'Yeah, I sure do,' said Jack, craving anything that would jolt him out of his moment of pessimism. 'Anyway, the pen and paper aren't the biggest clues.'

'You mean the text?' said Massimo, pulling his chair alongside Jack on the other side of his desk.

'Yeah. He thought long and hard about these words, Mass. What were your first impressions when you read it?'

Massimo turned the paper towards him and read silently. 'Shocking. Cold-blooded. Brutal. How you say in America, "straight to the point", is that right?'

'Yeah, that's right. What else?'

Mass puzzled for a moment. 'Clear – threatening – dangerous.' He started to struggle to add to his list. 'And you? What do you make of it?'

Jack scanned the paper again. 'He's begging for attention. The bold capital letters, the brevity of the note, the use of exclamation marks, the fact that he mentions his own name twice – it all shows that he's craving, almost demanding our attention. As you know, when killers do this, it's usually a sign that they are full of pent-up anger and are bursting to release it. I'd say he's either about to kill again, or maybe has even killed since writing this letter.'

It wasn't a thought that Massimo wanted to consider. His resources were stretched to the limit and another murder would cause mayhem, not just on the Barbuggiani case, but on three other, unrelated ones that he was overseeing. He took out a cigarette, tapped the end of it repeatedly on his desk and asked, 'Will he have found the process of writing the letter arousing?'

'Undoubtedly,' said Jack. 'Not only arousing, but empowering. He'd also be particularly turned on by the waiting process, the anticipation that we would read it.'

Massimo looked down at the letter again. 'I noticed that he spelt buon giorno correctly. Not many foreigners would do that. I think maybe he is an educated man.'

'He's certainly no fool. Check the letter again and you'll see that the grammar, spelling and punctuation are all correct,' said Jack. 'But I think there are two reasons why he is precise and so correct. Firstly, like I've said before, it's not that he's hugely intelligent, it's that he's hugely careful. BRK researches everything he does, meticulously. This guy probably looked up the spelling of buon giorno to make sure he didn't make a mistake. His whole attitude to life is to be careful, to plan, to avoid making that one slip-up that could end his freedom, and that's mirrored in this letter as well.'

'And the second reason?' asked Mass.

'His ego. This is a murderer with the biggest ego on the planet. If you could see egos, then we'd just hire a plane, fly around a bit and pull him in. It would be as easy as that.'

'Why so egotistical?'

'BRK would be mortified if he'd done something wrong and thought we were laughing at him, rather than him laughing at us.' Jack moved the paper closer to Mass. 'Here, look at this.' He pointed out the smiley face. 'Kids use these on e-mails, they draw them as symbols to express that they're happy in an uncomplicated, pure, childish way. The smiley is pretty much the first face a kid gets to draw. By using it, he's showing us that he has no respect for any of our values, and is happy to be seen as a threat to the most precious thing we have, our children. He's using the smiley as a form of intimidation. And now look at this.' Jack ran his finger under the line 'HA! HA! HA!' 'He's going to great lengths to mock us. Note the bold capitals again, and three exclamation marks. That's his way of saying, "I see you all as a joke, don't you get it?" And then there's this, the sickest of lines.' Jack's finger pointed to 'CALL IT A "HEADS-UP" OF WHAT I'VE GOT IN STORE FOR YOU!' The former FBI profiler leant back in his chair. 'He's warning us that he's going to kill again. Why?'

Massimo lit the cigarette, blew out smoke and considered his answer. 'It's a game. Maybe this whole thing is just one giant game for him.'

Jack blinked from the smoke wafting his way. 'You're right, and he wants to make certain that we'll play. I think he's here in Italy, and I'm a hundred per cent sure that he's going to kill again.' At the same time that Jack was meeting Massimo in Rome, American tourist Terry McLeod paid the taxi driver, moved his baggage off the dusty road and snapped the first of his holiday pictures, the outside of La Casa Strada.

'Sure is a pretty place,' he told Maria, as he bowled into the cool reception area and announced his arrival.

'We have you staying with us for just five days. Is that correct, Meester McLeod?' she said in the English that she hoped one day would be good enough to see her compete internationally as a beauty queen.

'That's right. Wish it could be longer. Never been to Tuscany before, it looks really fantastic.' He peered at her name badge. 'Tell me, Maria, are the owners of this place around? What're their names again?'

'Mr and Mrs King,' said the receptionist, struggling to understand him because he spoke so quickly. 'Mrs King is here, but not Mr King. Would you like me to call her for you?' She picked up the desk phone. 'Are you a friend from America?'

'No, no, don't do that,' he said. 'I'm sure I'll bump into them while I'm here. Lots of time to catch them, let it ride for now.'

Maria looked him over. He was about the same age as Mr King but nowhere near as tall or good-looking. He had a little fat belly that billowed beneath a pink Ralph Lauren polo shirt, like the one she'd hoped to buy her boyfriend Sergio. On closer examination, she noticed it had a thin brown stain running down the front of it, as though coffee or ice cream had dribbled from his machine-gun mouth and caught on his big stomach. 'May I have your passport, please?' she asked. 'And the credit card you wish to use to settle your bill? Breakfast is available until ten thirty and is included in your daily rate.'