The Carabiniere nodded to the inspector and Spiro. The captain said, ‘So, Massimo. What do you have? Anything enticing, anything plump? I see you’re first on the scene.’
Spiro said, ‘Actually, Giuseppe, Forestry was here first.’ Perhaps a joke but he was not smiling. The Carabinieri officer, however, laughed.
Was this a contest to see who would seize control of the case? The Carabiniere might have pushed, and would probably win, having a political edge over the Police of State.
As for Dante Spiro, he might harbor a personal preference for working with the Police of State, on the one hand, or for the Carabinieri, on the other, but for his career it made no difference; the prosecution would be his, no matter which police unit took control.
‘Who was the victim?’ Giuseppe asked.
Rossi said, ‘No identification yet. Some local unfortunate perhaps.’
Or an Eskimo, Ercole thought but, of course, didn’t even consider saying.
Rossi continued, ‘A good case. A press-worthy case. Kidnappings always are. Camorra? Albanians? That Tunisian gang from Scampia?’ He grimaced. ‘I would have liked to find out, firsthand. But here you are. So, good luck to you, Giuseppe. We’ll get back to Naples. Anything you need, please, let us know.’
Rossi was giving away the case so easily? Ercole was surprised. But perhaps the Carabinieri wielded more power than he’d thought. Dante Spiro was looking at his phone.
Giuseppe cocked his head. ‘You’re giving us the case?’
‘Your organization is senior to us. You are senior to me. And it is clearly big. Kidnapping. Those reports you heard on the way over are wrong.’
‘Reports?’
Rossi paused. ‘The initial reports from Dispatch? Personally I think they were trying to downplay the incident.’
‘Massimo,’ Giuseppe said. ‘Please explain?’
‘The youths, of course. That was pure speculation. I think this has to be Camorra. Or at worst Tunisian.’
‘Youths?’ Giuseppe tried again.
‘But it’s not that. I’m sure.’
‘Still, your meaning?’
Rossi frowned. ‘Oh, have you not read? About the initiations?’
‘No, no, I think not.’
‘It happens more in the north. Not in Campania.’ He gestured toward the scene. ‘That’s why it could not be this.’
The second Carabiniere asked, ‘Inspector, how does this scheme work?’
‘Well, as I have read, it’s university boys. The initiate must drive around, and when he sees someone he approaches on the pretense of asking directions or for change of money. Then when the victim is distracted, he is thrown in the car and driven for many kilometers and released. Pictures are taken and posted anonymously. A prank, yes, but there could be injuries. One boy in Lombardy ended up with a broken thumb.’
‘Broken thumb.’
‘Yes. And upon displaying the pictures, the perpetrators are allowed into the college club.’
‘Club? Not a gang?’
‘No, no, no. But, again, it is the northern regions in which this is happening. Not here.’
‘Perhaps not yet. But kidnapping from a bus stop, way out here, nowhere close to a city center? It makes no sense.’
Then a voice cut through the night: ‘Look, what I have found.’ The Carabinieri lieutenant was pointing to the euros. ‘As he was counting out change for the bus driver.’
Giuseppe walked to the rope Ercole had laid out and looked down. ‘Yes, so perhaps it does fit that category of offense.’
Spiro watched silently.
‘Hm. But a coincidence. Surely.’ Massimo Rossi nodded and stepped toward his automobile.
The Carabiniere turned to his associate and they had a quiet conversation. ‘Ah, Massimo, my colleague has reminded me that we have a drug operation in Positano. You are familiar?’
‘Not aware of that.’
‘No? An interdiction planned for a few days. I think we’ll need to let you have the kidnapping here.’
Rossi looked concerned. ‘But I have no time for this, for a major criminal investigation.’
‘Major, is it? Pesky college boys?’ Giuseppe smiled. ‘I will let you take all the glory, my friend. I will sign the case over to you formally back at the station.’
Rossi sighed. ‘All right. But you do owe me.’
A wink from the senior officer and they turned and left.
Spiro glanced at them departing and said to Rossi, ‘The Positano drug cases? They were dismissed two months ago.’
‘I know. As soon as he mentioned them, I knew I’d won our little contest here.’
Spiro said, with a shrug, ‘Giuseppe’s good. A solid officer. But... I prefer working for you. Army rules add layers.’
Ercole realized he’d just seen a subtle chess game. Massimo Rossi had, for some reason, wanted to keep control of the case. So he had tried reverse psychology, attempting to palm off the case to the Carabiniere, who had immediately become suspicious.
If the Positano case was an illusion, so was the initiation matter.
‘Inspector?’ Daniela Canton asked.
Rossi, Spiro and Ercole joined her.
She was pointing down to a small piece of cardboard. ‘It’s fresh. It’s likely he dropped it with the money. And it blew here. It was beside another dinar bill.’
‘Prepaid phone card. Good.’ Rossi extracted a plastic evidence bag from his pocket and placed the card inside. ‘We’ll have Postal analyze it.’ To the uniformed officer he said, ‘Anything else?’
‘No.’
‘Pull back then. We’ll let Scientific Police search more carefully when they get here.’
They returned to the road. Rossi turned to Ercole. ‘Thank you, Officer Benelli. Please write up a statement and then you’re free to go home.’
‘Yes, sir. I’m happy to be of help.’ He nodded to the prosecutor.
Spiro said to Rossi, ‘We, of course, cannot assume that the dinars and phone card are the victim’s. They are, probably, yes. But it could be too that the attacker had been in Libya recently.’
‘No, impossible.’ Ercole Benelli said this softly, almost a whisper. He was staring at the bus-stop bench, an ancient thing, bearing only a fraction of the paint that had been applied years ago.
‘What?’ Spiro snapped, staring, as if seeing Ercole for the first time.
‘There would not have been enough time to go to Libya and arrive here in Italy.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Rossi muttered.
‘He fled America late Monday night and arrived here yesterday. Tuesday.’
Dante Spiro’s voice cut like a blade. ‘Enough riddles. Explain yourself, Forestry Officer!’
‘He’s a kidnapper, though he intends to kill his victim eventually. He goes by the name “The Composer.” He creates music videos of his victims dying.’
The inspector and prosecutor — Daniela too — seemed unable to speak.
‘Look.’ Ercole pointed to the back of the bus-stop bench.
A miniature hangman’s noose hung from a beam.
Chapter 11
Ercole Benelli said to the others, ‘In the Europol alerts yesterday. A notice from the US embassy in Brussels. Did you not see it?’
Spiro glared at the young officer and Ercole continued quickly, ‘Well, sir, this man — they know he is a white male, though not his name — he kidnapped a victim in New York and left a noose just like this one, as a token. He tortured him. The man was about to die but was rescued just in time. The perpetrator escaped. The State Department believed he left the country but did not know where he was headed. It seems he’s come to Italy.’
‘A copycat crime, surely.’ Spiro was nodding at the noose.