Spider

Howie gunned up the sound a little on the TV as he spoke. 'I'm sorry, buddy, I'm not dicking around, I had to call you. We've got a real shit storm blowing up.'

Jack dropped his smart-ass act. 'What's wrong? Are you okay?'

'I'm fine, no worries, but we've got a situation and it looks like it's related to our favourite sociopath, old BR-fucking-K himself.'

The mention of the Black River Killer was enough to get Jack to sit up. 'How do you mean? Go slowly with me, buddy; I'm not fully awake yet.'

'Well, this sure as hell is going to wake you up. You know Pan Arabia, the Arab channel set up in competition to Al Jazeera, the guys who do the special line in Bin Laden home videos?'

Jack rubbed sleep from his eyes. 'Yeah, I was part of one of the early validation teams that checked them out.'

'Well, they've got themselves one hell of a fucking exclusive this morning. They just friggin' well ran some video footage and a story about a woman being held hostage and being tortured to death.'

Jack struggled to catch it all. 'I don't get it, Howie; you're going to have to go slower, man. They've got pictures of an Arab woman hostage and you think it's somehow connected to BRK?'

'Fuck!' said Howie. 'I'm sorry. Let me start again. They're running an exclusive story on their English news channel, not their normal Arab output, video footage and a voiceover from their chief crime guy, Tariq el Daher. The report they've cobbled together shows a young white woman chained up in some kind of dark room. She looks in a hell of a fucking way. They're rerunning it now if you can find it on your TV over there.'

'I'll look when we're done,' said Jack, straining his eyes open. 'I'm still spaced-out at the moment.'

'Jack, you should see this girl, she looks really beat-up and distressed. Our friend Tariq showed a copy to some dumb-ass detective on Homicide down at the NYPD and got quotes enough to stand up a line that there's a nationwide hunt to find this kid before she gets croaked.'

'How do you know the footage is for real?' asked Jack, his brain in gear at last.

'I'm pretty sure it is,' said Howie. 'There's a copy of USA Today on the floor in the video and it's dated July the second, and here's the clincher, Jack, there were three other pieces of paper in the video, spelling out the words "HA! HA! HA!"'

Jack's head started to pound. 'Was it written the same way BRK did in his note here in Italy?'

'The very same way,' said Howie. 'All big capitals.'

'Holy fuck!' The worst of Jack's fears were coming true. The Italian connection was indeed a red herring, just as he'd told Orsetta he suspected. And, as he'd also guessed, BRK had been planning a new spree of America-based violence that was turning out to be unthinkably horrendous. 'Howie, do you really think this girl is being held right now by BRK somewhere in America? You reckon we've just been pissing in the wind over here in Italy?'

Howie could feel Jack's pain and humiliation. 'That seems to be the top and bottom of it. Italy's a false trail, laid just for us. I'm sure he had a lot of fun laying it, a creep like him would, but his real action is Stateside, always has been, always will be.'

Jack's mind focused on the videotape. He knew the film was going to turn out to be more than a one-off publicity stunt. BRK would be planning something far more sinister as a sequel. 'The way things are stacking up, BRK's going to kill this girl any time soon and then leak video footage of her murder to the Western world's most hated news channel.'

Howie shared the same fear. 'You got it. And you know these fuckers, Jack, they show beheadings of Western hostages and any manner of atrocity; they'll probably be praying to Allah, or Mohammed, or whoever the hell it is, that something happens right in the middle of the fucking ratings sweeps.'

Jack let out a long sigh. 'What are you going to do now, Howie? I guess your hot-shot new boss Joey Marsh is all over this and will be wanting a multi-agency briefing asap?'

'You got it. Marsh is so attached to my butt that I may have to have him surgically removed. We need you over here, Jack; can you get out of your obligations to the Italians?'

Jack took a beat to think about the consequences. 'Marsh okay with that?'

'Yeah, more than okay. He suggested it even before me. It's all going to kick off again, and this time this friggin' BRK screwball is begging for us to come get him. You never know, buddy, he might just be about to make his one big mistake.'

Jack weighed up the possibilities. Howie could be right. If BRK was behind the video footage, then he was taking risks, and he would do that only if he was very close to killing again. It was a unique moment; never before had they been able to so accurately predict when the serial murderer was about to strike next. 'I'll sort it out with Massimo. I'll come,' he said. 'I don't know when the next flight from Rome to JFK is, but I'll be on it. Meantime, get yourself all over this Tariq guy, clamp his balls in a vice and squeeze so hard that they come out of his ears. He's got to know that what happens next isn't about TV, it's about someone's life or death.'

PART SIX

Friday, 6 July

54

Rome By the time Orsetta and Massimo arrived at their office, Jack was already en route to New York. The concierge at the hotel had managed to get him one of the few remaining seats on the 9.55 a.m. Lufthansa flight from Rome's Fiumicino airport. It wasn't going to be the best of journeys; Jack topped six foot and squeezing into Economy was one of his pet hates. To make matters worse, he had to change planes at Dusseldorf and make the last leg of the long haul also in 'cattle class'. Orsetta and Massimo learned all this from the various messages he left on their answerphones. Just before boarding, he'd called Nancy and told her where he was heading and not to worry if she didn't get calls at the times he'd promised. He'd been encouraged by how understanding she'd been. He also managed a brief chat with Massimo, during which he'd told him more about the breaking news on BRK and the reason why he had to leave so suddenly.

Orsetta sat in her boss's office leaning her elbows on his giant desk. They both cradled espressos and discussed their disappointment at Jack's departure.

Massimo resisted lighting a cigarette to go with his coffee, his new pledge to himself being not to smoke before lunchtime. He tapped the desk with his finger, as though he were banging ash from it. 'Orsetta, I am hoping that Jack is right and that the murder of Cristina Barbuggiani is just a cruel decoy, but it is not a risk we can afford to take. When Benito comes in, we must impress upon him that our own investigations must remain fully focused. I do not want everyone sitting back and thinking the ball is now in the Americans' side of the court. That might be a tragic mistake to make.'

Orsetta was ahead of him. 'I spoke yesterday to the murder squad in Livorno and they are a determined team. I know the officer in charge, Marco Rem Picci, and he is not the kind to allow anyone to relax and do nothing.'

'Good,' said Massimo, the tension of the case showing in his red-rimmed eyes. 'Almost every day now I have phone calls or e-mails from the Prime Minister's office, the Minister of the Interior, the head of the Polizia Scientifica, the Direzione Centrale Anticrimine della Polizia di Stato and even the damn Chief of Police wanting to know what progress we are making.' He threw his hands up to show his exasperation. 'Hopefully this development in America will take a little heat off us for a while.'

Orsetta finished her espresso and drank water to take the bitterness away. She wanted to press on with the case more than anyone else, this was the biggest investigation she'd ever been involved in, and as far as she was concerned, it was just starting, not winding down. 'I'd like to go ahead with the 3D reconstruction of the crime scene. Can you authorize payment and access?'