Viper - Michael Morley [4]
‘Serial killers, like those bergs, come in all shapes and sizes, and all of them are potentially lethal. You have to spot them early. Catch them after murder one, while they’re still small fry. And remember, to do that, you have to concentrate damned hard on the ten per cent that’s on view above the surface.’
Jack took a final look around. His gaze stuck for a second on the front row, where one man, thin and pale, stared up at him with black empty eyes that seemed to be hunting for his attention.
‘In your investigations, please pay particular attention to these three things. Thought, Feeling and Action. Right now, right at this moment, you’re all doing the same thing. You have a uniformed, shared Action. You’re all just sitting and watching. That’s your visible ten per cent. Your action is very much in full public view. But Thought and Feeling are complex masses that make up your private ninety per cent, and that’s what we can’t see; that’s what you’re keeping hidden. A few of you may still be feeling shocked or sickened by some of the murder-scene slides we looked at earlier. Some of you may have been bored or fascinated by them. Whatever your emotions, you’ve all kept those feelings hidden. Similarly, as I come to a close, I know you are almost all thinking different things. I hope many of you are thinking that your time at this conference has been worthwhile. I’m sure some of you are worrying about how you’re going to get home through the snow tonight, and I’m confident that there’ll be several of you who are hoping that your own dark secrets of infidelity, sexual deviation or petty theft from work will never be discovered. Well, don’t bank on it, they might well be.’
Embarrassed laughter rippled through the audience. Jack let the tide settle, then finished his speech. ‘Remember, everyone’s an iceberg, and only ten per cent of each of us is on show. You can’t spot a killer berg without looking beneath the surface. Search for that hidden ninety per cent. Find it and destroy it, before it destroys us. Thank you for your time. I wish you all a safe journey home and a peaceful and merry Christmas.’
Applause rang out. Jack mouthed several ‘thank yous’ left and right of stage. As he clapped back and started to head for the exit, his eyes caught again on the thin, pale-faced man staring up at him from the front row. The man with the blank, unblinking gaze. The only person in the auditorium not clapping.
3
Centro città, Napoli
The black snake of Mercedes slithered north through the rubbish-strewn side streets of Naples.
Bruno Valsi swivelled in the backseat and glanced through the rear windshield. ‘We’re not heading home?’ He tried not to sound suspicious.
Don Fredo, sitting alongside him, smiled reassuringly and lit a Cuban cigar. ‘It is your first day of freedom and we are going to honour you. I know you are anxious to be alone with your wife and son, but my daughter and grandchild will have to wait a while longer.’
Valsi relaxed a little, though the incident made him realize his vulnerability. He was unarmed and at anyone’s mercy. Five years in jail had left his street instincts rusty. He made a mental note to sharpen up.
‘Don Fredo, it is not necessary to honour me. To have served you as I did was honour enough.’
The sixty-four-year-old Camorra Capofamiglia raised the palm of his right hand, signifying that protest was futile. ‘Bruno, you