The Deliverance of Evil (50 page)

That was why Valerio had called Alessandrini in the Vatican before he hanged himself—to remind him of the truth.

“Alina was terrified of you, Mr. Hagi, because of something you’re holding back from us. And your wife wasn’t one to scare easily.”

“Well then, I’ll spell it out clearly, Balistreri. Ulla had overheard a conversation of the count’s. She told Anna Rossi, Samantha’s mother, about it. And she passed it on to Alina that I’d thrown Elisa in the river. And my wife, poor innocent young girl that she was, was terrified by the damnation of hell into which your God threatens to send even those who remain silent in order to protect her own husband.”

Balistreri was incredulous. “All these deaths twenty-four years later to punish someone who turned Alina against you? You could have thought about it before, couldn’t you?”

“Believe me, I thought about it many times, but I didn’t know who had killed Elisa Sordi. I threw her in the river, but when I carried her out of that office she was already dead.”

“Do you know who did it now?”

“No, Balistreri. I still don’t know. That’s your fault.” He pointed to his blood-spotted handkerchief. “But I can’t wait any longer. You’ve got to find out who did it.”

“What do you think you’ll achieve by acting like this? The name of a killer? Or the massacre of Romanians in Italy? You’re turning this country into a hellish pack of racists!”

Hagi looked at him mockingly. “Like that Coppola I shot between the shoulders that night—”

Enraged, Balistreri lost control and launched himself on him. He felt the blood pounding in his ears and bursting his eardrums and temples as he squeezed Hagi’s neck. The prison officers rushed to stop him. Fortunately, one of them was built like an ox and pulled Balistreri off Hagi as if he were a leaf.

Hagi was spitting blood on the floor and coughing as he held his throat. But his mocking gaze never wavered while the prison officers were restraining Balistreri.

“Call a doctor,” Corvu said.

“It’s not serious,” Hagi said, massaging his own neck. Then he turned to Balistreri. “You see how little it takes to kill? But you already know that, don’t you?”

“That’s enough for now,” Corvu said. “You can take this animal back to his cell.”

Hagi said, “But we’re just getting to Fiorella Romani.”

“Let me go. I’ve calmed down,” Balistreri said to the officers, who loosened their grip on him but stood between the two men.

“You’re not going anywhere, Hagi,” Corvu said.

“Then say good-bye to Fiorella Romani and you add another death on your conscience, Balistreri. And what’s it going to change anyway? One more, one less . . .”

He wants your rage. He wants to turn you into an animal like him.

The thought calmed him down. “I don’t believe you, Hagi. You don’t even know if she’s alive.”

Hagi glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a minute to one.

“Switch on your cell phone, Balistreri. Right now.”

There’s still one thing he wants to do, and that is to destroy you. It’s his price for saving Fiorella.

As soon as the phone was on, it rang. “Hello?” Balistreri said.

He heard a terrified whisper. “This is Fiorella Romani. I’m begging you, come get me and bring Titti to me.”

The call ended abruptly.

Balistreri called Fiorella’s mother. “Does the name Titti mean anything to you?”

Franca Giansanti was surprised. “Titti? That’s Fiorella’s favorite stuffed animal. It was a present from her grandmother Gina. What’s going on?”

“Just trust me, Franca. I’ll let you know before this evening.”

In order for Hagi to be allowed out of prison, even under escort and in handcuffs, the chief of police had to call the minister of the interior and the minister of justice.

“This is crazy, Balistreri. But it will all be worth it if we save her,” Floris said.

“You’re a decent man, sir.”

“Thank you, Balistreri. So are you. Be careful.”

Balistreri instinctively felt for the Beretta in his holster.

He came back into the room. “Where do we have to go, Mr. Hagi?”

“It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon, or so they tell me. Let’s go to the beach. I’ll ride with you.”

“We should go in a police van,” Corvu said.

But Hagi didn’t want to do that.

“No, let’s go in a regular car. I want to enjoy the view. It’s going to be the last trip I ever take. And besides, if I can’t see the view I can’t show you the path to her salvation.”

Afternoon

They formed a line of five vehicles, the first and last two each containing four armed policemen. In the middle was the car with the four of them: Corvu at the wheel, Piccolo next to him, Balistreri in the back, and Hagi in handcuffs. They left at two thirty in the scorching-hot afternoon. The car’s thermometer said the outside temperature was well over one hundred degrees.

“Take the Via Pontina toward the coast,” Hagi ordered.

As they left the center of Rome, Hagi was silent, looking keenly at the pavements crowded with tourists, the Tiber, and the open-air restaurants. There was little traffic. In that heat everyone was at the beach or up in the hills. It took them only twenty minutes to get onto the Via Pontina, an minor highway leading south of Rome to the coast.

“Where are we going?” Corvu asked.

“Keep going straight. There’s still time.” Hagi seemed completely absorbed in the view.

Balistreri gathered this was not going to be a short trip.

“Take the handcuffs off and give me a cigarette, Balistreri,” Hagi ordered.

“Not the handcuffs,” Corvu said.

“Then you can turn the car around and go back. These are the last cigarettes I’ll ever smoke and I want to smoke them with my hands free.”

“Unlock his right hand and cuff the left to the seat,” Balistreri told Piccolo. She leaned over and complied.

Then he gave Hagi a lit cigarette.

“Don’t you have the Bella Blu lighter anymore?” Hagi asked him, inhaling.

So you want to talk? All right, let’s talk.

“Who’s waiting for us at the beach?” Balistreri asked.

Hagi gave a little laugh. “Don’t be impatient; you’ll see when we get there. But if you have other questions, I might answer some of them. I’m in a good mood today.”

Balistreri caught Corvu’s warning glance in the mirror, but he had no wish to be cautious. By now he thought he knew who had killed Elisa Sordi, but that wouldn’t save Fiorella Romani. It was a mosaic that was still missing several tiles, one in particular.

“Let’s start with Samantha Rossi. Why her?”

“I’ve already told you. It was Anna Rossi who told to Alina that I’d removed Elisa’s body and then persuaded her to run away. It was as if she had killed her. I could have avenged myself on Anna right away, but I’d already learned the hard way that a greater pain is the death of someone you love. And so I chose her daughter. And please, I must insist, tell the lady that if she’d minded her own business, her daughter would still be alive today.”

Balistreri heard a deep intake of breath from Giulia Piccolo and placed a warning hand on her shoulder. Hagi wanted to provoke them, but they had to remain calm and focused on one goal: saving Fiorella Romani.

“And why Nadia?”

“Oh, Christ, why all these questions I’ve already answered? Because she looked like Alina and Alina hurt me.”

Balistreri wasn’t convinced, not for a moment. “I just don’t buy that answer, especially after Camarà saw you with Nadia in Bella Blu’s private lounge.”

Hagi shook his head. “It wasn’t me. I could meet up with Nadia any time I wanted. Someone else wanted to meet her there.”

Piccolo turned around. “Colajacono,” she said.

Hagi had a fit of coughing mixed with laughter. “You are such a fool to be fixated on that man. Colajacono was invited that evening so that he’d be more deeply involved in what was about to happen. That idiot thought it was about blackmailing a politician and that Nadia was being used for that.”

“But you called Vasile. You went to get the Giulia GT at the top of the hill with Adrian’s bike. You left the bike there, picked up Nadia, took her to Vasile, and left on the bike.” Piccolo came to a halt, confused.

Hagi laughed. “You’re missing something, aren’t you? Who killed Nadia?”

Corvu said. “You went up on the bike, took the car, and left the bike on the hill. Then you went to pick up Nadia in the car around six thirty. You slowed down when you saw Natalya, because you thought it was her. Then you were lucky enough to find Nadia by herself.”

“I’ve never been lucky in my life. I’ve just had an excellent assistant,” Hagi said placidly.

Balistreri had already reconstructed that part.

“It was the man who couldn’t get it up with Ramona. That gave you time to make off with Nadia. You rode with him on the bike to collect the Giulia GT that would be used to pick up Nadia on Via di Torricola. Then you both came down from the hill separately, one on Adrian’s bike and the other in the Giulia. At six o’clock you picked up Nadia while he kept Ramona busy. Then you handed Nadia and the car over to your assistant. He took her up the hill, while you went home, hid the bike, and then went to Casilino 900 to distribute presents to the children.”

Corvu and Piccolo stared at him in the rearview mirror. Hagi clapped his hands. “Bravo, Balistreri. You’re beginning to catch on after all these years.”

Balistreri ignored the provocation and continued.

“Your assistant waited two hours while Vasile had sex with Nadia and then fell asleep because he’d had so much to drink. Then your assistant strangled her and carved the letter E on her. Alessandrini was right about you, Hagi—you’re not the kind of man to rape, strangle, and carve letters into women.”

Hagi nodded. “I prefer to torture the living. That’s my specialty, Balistreri.”

Balistreri made no comment and went back to his reconstruction of the events. “From Casilino 900, the others went to St. Peter’s Square, but you went to pick up your assistant on the bike. You left the car up there and came back down together on the bike.”

Hagi seemed genuinely pleased with Balistreri’s progress, as if someone was finally going to admire his grand plan.

“That’s right, Balistreri. He carved the letters into all of them, including Elisa Sordi. It was ugly. I wouldn’t be able to do it, but that’s how my assistant is. He enjoys that kind of thing.”

“A collaboration that started twenty-four years ago,” Balistreri said. “The count assumed Manfredi hadn’t killed Elisa and wanted someone to go and talk to her, calm her down, maybe make a deal with her. The first thing he did was call Francesco Ajello.”

Hagi made a slight bow. “Bravo, Balistreri. I see your brain is working today. Francesco was supposed to make a deal with her in exchange for her silence. But when he went into the office, he discovered she was already dead. He called me to help him out. We cleaned up the office, and then we put her body in the trunk of my car and took it away. Ajello went to watch the game with some friends, and I dumped the body in the river. That wasn’t very pleasant, especially since I had to cut her and burn her with cigarettes to make it look as if she’d been tortured. I’m tired now, Balistreri. Give me another cigarette and leave me alone.”

They didn’t speak for a while. Hagi smoked in silence as the road signs went by one after another. Pratica di Mare. Pomezia. Anzio. Nettuno. It was nearly four thirty in the afternoon and Via Pontina was absolutely deserted under the blazing sun.

Balistreri was unsettled. Something wasn’t quite right. That insistence on Nadia was ridiculous. Without her and the broken headlight on the Giulia GT, no suspicions would ever have been aroused.

“I want to talk about the letters of the alphabet,” Corvu said all of a sudden.

“A childhood passion of my assistant, perfected over time,” Hagi replied, as if they were talking about art or sports.

“I’d like to know if we have to use the initial of the first name for Ulla and Giovanna Sordi, as with your wife Alina.”

Hagi was amused by the question.

“You’re determined to solve the puzzle, aren’t you, Corvu? I, on the other hand, find it childish, not to mention risky. But he’s determined to finish it. U for Ulla is correct. But after her daughter’s death, Elisa Sordi’s mother wore an engraved charm on a bracelet.”

“A golden heart with the letter E,” Corvu recalled, thanks to his photographic memory.

“But there’s already an E immediately before that, the one carved on Nadia,” Balistreri protested.

“You’re very quick today, Balistreri. It’s true, there are two consecutive Es. My assistant is very particular, a little like Corvu here. He insisted that there be two. It might interest you to know that killing Giovanna Sordi was simple.”

“Killing Giovanna Sordi?” Piccolo echoed.

Hagi coughed and spat blood into his handkerchief.

“A stroke of genius that your idiotic World Cup final made quite easy. My assistant met her that morning at Mass and told her that he was going to reveal the truth about her daughter’s death, but in exchange she would have to join her daughter that same evening.”

“I don’t buy it,” Corvu said. “Elisa’s mother was ruined by grief, but she wasn’t gullible enough to do that.”

“You’re wrong. He told her he knew the killer’s name and offered it in exchange for her jumping off the balcony. She swore on the Virgin Mary that she’d do it. And besides, what better occasion than another World Cup final? If Italy hadn’t won that shootout, she might not have jumped. But my assistant would just have killed her off anyway.” Hagi was coughing and laughing.

Piccolo turned around, furious, and Balistreri shot her a warning glance.

“And how did your assistant convince her he knew who the killer was?” Corvu asked.

“He revealed a detail that only someone who had witnessed the attack on Elisa would have known. That was no problem for him.”

Corvu said, “So, the sequence is OUAREEVI plus the last letter.”

Hagi was clearly amused. “I see Corvu can’t resist, so I’ll give him a little help. The sequence is correct, but the first letter is missing.”

The car skidded, and Corvu straightened it out, swearing in Sardinian. Piccolo turned and pointed her gun at Hagi’s forehead. Balistreri put his hand between the gun and Hagi.