Spider - Michael Morley [58]
Massimo held up a hand. ‘That’s good, but let’s stop for a moment and back up a little. It looks as if this man held Cristina alive for between a minimum of two and a maximum of four days.’ He looked up at his team, and continued, ‘Then, when he killed her, he kept her body, or parts of it, for another six to eight days. Why? Why did he wait so long? What was he doing?’ He let the dates and questions sink in, swallowed hard and added, ‘Our killer then kept Cristina’s severed head for another four or five days, before it was delivered to us. Again, why?’
Orsetta made the sign of the cross and bowed her head; she could not begin to imagine what agonies Cristina had endured, or what kind of man they were hunting.
‘He has left us with many questions to answer, but let’s concentrate on the main ones,’ said Massimo, preparing to tick them off on his fingers. ‘How did he manage to abduct Cristina? Where did he hold her for those two to four days that she was alive? Did he keep her corpse in the same place, for up to six days, or did he move her somewhere else? Why did he wait so long before sending Cristina’s head to us?’
Massimo let his hand fall to his desk and glanced across at the framed picture of Cristina. She seemed not to have a worry in the world. Her face was unlined, radiant and full of promise. Her smile was so wide that the photographer had probably caught her just as a laugh was about to escape her lips. Massimo looked up again, and moved the conversation on to something he’d so far kept secret from Jack. ‘And the other big question is: what exactly did the killer mean to tell us by the note that he sealed in a plastic bag and left inside Christina’s skull?’
PART FOUR
Wednesday, 4 July
39
Rome
‘Jack King, you look magnificent!’ exclaimed Massimo Albonetti, throwing his arms around the former FBI agent as he entered his office.
‘And you – my smooth Italian friend – you still look like a polished cue ball,’ said Jack, playfully rubbing the top of Massimo’s bald head.
Massimo slapped his hand away and shut the door behind them. ‘They told me you were ill, but look at you. You’re heavier and healthier than I’ve ever seen you.’
‘Good food and a good wife, that’s the secret,’ said Jack, patting his stomach.
‘Jack, please, I am Italian – these things you do not need to tell me.’ He waved a hand towards a chair on the other side of his desk. ‘Please, please sit down. Can I get you a drink? Coffee, water?’
‘Just some water, please. I’m trying to fight the caffeine.’
‘Me too,’ said Massimo, ‘but the caffeine is always winning.’ He pressed his desk intercom. ‘Claudia, two double espressos and some water, please.’
Jack shot him a disapproving glance.
Massimo shrugged his shoulders. ‘If you don’t want it when it comes, then I will have yours as well.’
Jack took the seat and leant on the desk. ‘Benedetta and the kids good? Did they get away on holiday okay?’
‘Yes, fine, thank you,’ said Massimo. ‘Though there was another terrorist scare at the airport and the children were disappointed at not being able to take certain toys on the plane. No toy guns, no water pistols – how does a young child cope these days without them?’
‘Air travel will never be the same again,’ said Jack. ‘Pretty soon you’re going to have to empty your body fluids, then zip yourself up in a clear plastic bag before they’ll let you board. The boys and girls in the anti-terrorist units certainly have their work cut out for them.’
‘si,’ said Massimo, smiling. ‘I thank God every night that I managed to avoid being drafted into that particular war.’
The small talk had come to an end, so Jack asked the question that had been preying on his mind ever since they’d last spoken. ‘So, Mass, are you going to tell me what you couldn’t tell me on the phone?’
The Italian sat back and his old chair creaked so loudly it sounded as though the joints might break. The question was far from unexpected, and the answer was simple, but he still hesitated to break the news. ‘Jack, you know how much I respect you and treasure our friendship, so forgive