Viper

Franco took more than an hour caressing and sorting Rosa's garbage. He hid his trinkets in the bottom drawer of an old wooden bedside cabinet that he kept in a corner of the pit, beneath a makeshift shelter of boarding and clear plastic sheeting. His den. His sanctuary.

Finally, he gathered the rest of the garbage from the sack and put it in the centre of the pit. He balled up the pages of an old newspaper and set them on fire. As the flames rose and the smoke spiralled skywards he put his finger to his lips and thought once more of Rosa and how sweet she must taste.

34

Grand Hotel Parker's, Napoli Jack finished dinner in his hotel room and waited for Sylvia to collect him. He wanted to see the crime scene at night. See it in the same way he guessed the killer had visited it and left it.

They met in reception and he saw how, despite her naturally pretty face, the strain of the inquiry was starting to show.

She came straight to the point. 'The ME's notes are in. You were right. The burning was ante-mortem. Francesca was set on fire while she was alive.'

Jack soaked it up. 'It takes a special type of monster to kill someone like that.'

'Special? Is that what you call them?' Sylvia led the way to the garage at the back of the hotel. It was hewn out of a giant hillside, high above the city.

Jack saw her point. 'I should have said the worst kind of monster. Organized. Sadistic. Relentless.'

She knew what he meant. 'The kind that doesn't stop unless they're caught. The kind that's probably killed before.'

'That's exactly the kind.'

Sylvia lit a cigarette as they waited for the valet to find her car. 'You're not a smoker, I can tell. I'm afraid I'm an addict. I know it's bad. And the more people tell me to stop, the more I have to continue.'

'Says a lot about your personality.'

She smiled. 'All Neapolitans are like that.'

'How so?'

'Grazie mille,' she tipped the valet as they got into her Alfa. 'We don't like being told what to do.' She stubbed the cigarette out in the tray on the dashboard and sparked up the engine. 'Take seat belts, for example. Hardly anyone in Naples wears one. Even though it's illegal not to. When it became law, the best-selling fashion accessory was a white T-shirt with a fastened seat belt painted on it. When you wore it, it looked like you had your belt on, even when you hadn't. People who had been fastening seat belts for years stopped doing so when it became law.'

'Shouldn't you know better? Set a good example?' asked Jack, lightly.

'I do know better. And I'll never wear a seat belt again. Two carabinieri friends of mine were shot dead in their cars by the Camorra. They still had their belts on. The restriction probably stopped them even drawing their weapons.'

'I'm sorry to hear it.'

'One of them almost lived. The ambulance turned up really quickly – in fact, too quickly. The killer must have seen the paramedics set to work as they stretchered him away. After one block of lights the ambulance was ambushed. The assassin climbed into the back and finished the job.'

Jack noticed she'd jammed her army issue Beretta between her legs. Clearly she wouldn't be caught off-guard in an ambush. 'Creed mentioned the Camorra. You think they could be involved in all this?'

'Could be. They're like water. They're invisible, spread everywhere and hard to avoid.' The Alfa didn't so much join the traffic flow in front of the hotel as rocket into it. Horns blared and moped riders swerved, but Sylvia was unfazed.

Jack put a hand on the dashboard to brace himself. 'Man, I thought New York was dangerous, but it's Disneyland compared to here.'

Sylvia smiled. 'The secret of driving in Naples is not to care about what others are doing.' A moped zipped in front of their bumper. 'If you show any weakness or hesitation, then they will take advantage of you. Drive as though you are the only person on the road and you will be fine.'

From the city they took the A3 autostrada out towards Salerno. Jack continued to ask about the Camorra. 'If the mob are into everything, then how does that affect the way you investigate murders and missing persons?'

'It's a wall of silence,' explained Sylvia. 'If a Camorrista is involved then none of the clan will talk. Worse than that, if someone from the System is involved then you can bet no one in the city will talk either.'

After fifteen minutes of congestion-free traffic they began a steep spiralling climb. 'Not far from here, over at Sant'Anastasia, one of the biggest Camorra arms caches was discovered. They'd hidden everything from Uzis to AKs, enough to equip a small army. In fact several armies. The System imports weapons for use here in Campania and also to supply much of the rest of the world.'

'You have regular contact with your anti-mob squads?'

'Of course. And we'll reach out to them about this case – when the time is right. They're very busy right now and very difficult to deal with. We need to have more to go on before we knock on their door.' Sylvia spun the wheel expertly into sharp left- and right-hand bends that zigzagged towards the top of Vesuvius. 'During the day tourist coaches rule these roads. When they descend, everyone scatters so they don't get crushed by them.'

'Is this route used only by tourists?' Jack peered through the darkness at signs advertising cheap restaurants and hotels.

'No, not exclusively. There are houses, bars and businesses that locals frequent. Some of the workers in the park, or in the restaurants and snack bars, live around here.'

'Workers on Vesuvius?'

'Yes, on the volcano. Also in the national park where Francesca's remains were found. And further down in Pompeii and Herculaneum too. Work is hard to find and good housing even harder. If you get either, then you stick with it as long as you can. Nothing lasts forever. In Naples, nothing lasts very long.'

It took five more minutes for them to reach a lay-by where Sylvia pulled over. They got out and she produced two high-powered military flashlights from the trunk. Jack had expected a big entrance to the park but instead they took a worn path that wound uphill through a cluster of trees.

'Is this the main way in?'

'There are several routes, but this is the closest one you can take if you come here by car. This is the way that the man who found Francesca had taken.'

'The guy with the dog?'

'Yes.'

'So it's not necessarily the killer's route?'

'No, not necessarily.'

They walked in silence for a while, both wondering exactly who they were hunting. Jack thought of Creed. Had he been here with Francesca? Had he followed her out here? Perhaps approached her and been rebuffed? Had he killed her and returned her bones to the place where she'd rejected him? Or was Creed what he claimed to be – public-spirited and the only person so far to spot that a missing person was a murder victim? Had he not been so obnoxious – so sexually obsessed and twisted – it would have been easier to have believed him. Maybe one of the workers Sylvia had just mentioned was the killer? A tourist guide, bus driver or restaurant worker? They had local knowledge and, given how remote this place was, local knowledge was obviously a factor. Or could there be more than just an organic link to the Camorra, the evil and untouchable shadow that seemingly fell over everyone and everything in Campania?

'Here we are!' Sylvia's flashlight picked out an area still fenced and taped off but unguarded. 'When I first heard of the bones, I didn't think it would be murder.'

'Why's that?'

'Well, recently we've had a spate of discoveries. Bones have been found, not around here but across other parts of Naples.'

Jack looked confused.

'The city's cemeteries are as overcrowded as its slums. To make way for new burials – and the cash that accompanies them – the Camorra exhume graves then re-bury the bones in the countryside. Eventually the dearly departed work their way to the surface. Over at Santa Maria Capua Vetere so many bones were coming through in the fields that locals would cross themselves as they walked past.'