The Venice Conspiracy (21 page)

Isabella hesitates. ‘Correct.’

Montesano interjects, addressing the whole squad: ‘Please be careful.

The key word here is “
linked
”. The
chainsaw was used for dismemberment, not for murder.’

‘The professore is quite right,’ adds the scientist. ‘I’m
not
telling you only one person was involved. Nor am I telling you that several were involved. That’s for you to discover. I’m merely describing for you the single instrument used in the dismemberment.’

The statement is about as definitive as Isabella can make, given the circumstances. She thanks everyone and steps aside for Rocco Baldoni. He flips another page on the chart. ‘Some other factors to remember. All three bodies were found within ten kilometres of each other. The ones in the lagoon were considerably decomposed, so we cannot be a hundred per cent certain that the livers were deliberately removed, but we can say the organs were not found with the bodies. Because Monica was not dimembered and therefore there were no saw marks, this organ removal is what primarily links all three cases. Professore Montesano tells us the elderly male victim had extensive injuries to the back of the skull, indicative of a ferocious attack from behind with a blunt object such as a rock or hammer. Despite the advanced state of decomposition of the younger male, there are indications that he suffered stab wounds to the side of his neck. Remember, we already know that Monica Vidic was abducted and restrained by a very controlled and calm killer. He cut her throat while facing her; meaning he was neither squeamish nor inexperienced and actually wanted that eye contact with his victim. I’ve been talking to our Crime Pattern Analyst and he thinks we’re looking at a single, gradually evolving offender. Attack One from behind is cowardly and rushed – a sign the offender was unsure of himself. Attack Two may have been from the side with a knife – indicative of the offender getting closer and bolder in his MO. And the final assault was a full-blown abduction and then a very controlled execution, a sign that the killer was perfecting his technique.’

Valentina raises her hand. ‘Monica was stabbed more than six hundred times and her body not dismembered at all. That seems completely at odds with the two earlier corpses.’

‘You’re right, it does,’ says Vito. ‘But the stab marks on the male bones and the removal of the liver are key linking factors.’

Valentina presses her point: ‘But how do you explain the differences?’

Vito understands her desire to know more about the psychology of the man they’re hunting. ‘I think our UNSUB was rehearsing on the earlier victims. He was trying to develop a ritualistic way of killing people. He made a real mess of it with the older male victim, tried to be more precise with the second one and finally got it right with Monica.’

Tom catches his eye. ‘And now that he’s got it right, what next?’

Vito, Valentina and Montesano
all answer at the same time: ‘He’s going to kill again.’

666
BC

Atmanta

Arnza and Masu are only too delighted to have been chosen to carry out Larth’s instructions. They’ve not been long in his employ and he has rarely noticed them, let alone favoured them with tasks of any importance. Even more pleasingly, they have a
personal
grudge against the netsvis.

They wait until the seer’s powerfully built father wanders away and joins a group of other men leaving the temple. Then they move swiftly.

Arnza, the smaller of the two, does the talking. ‘Netsvis, on the orders of Magistrate Pesna you are commanded to come with us.’

Before the seer can object, they each have hold of an elbow and he finds himself being marched down the eastern side of the temple.

‘What is the purpose of this?’ protests Teucer. ‘Why such haste that I cannot take my proper leave of the people?’

The guards smirk at each other. ‘We are instructed to search you, using whatever force we see fit.’

‘Why so? Why do you have to search me?’

Masu waits until they have manhandled him away from the temple and into the thicket behind it. His breath reeks of day-old meat as he pushes his face into Teucer’s and sneers, ‘You have no idea who we are, do you, Netsvis?’

Teucer half stumbles as they let go of him. Finally his memory stirs. He now recognises their voices, even their smells.

Rapists. The men who held and raped his wife!

‘Disrobe, priest!’ Arnza draws his sword. ‘Take off those garments while we remind you of the cut you gave me and how you killed our friend.’

‘I know not of what you
speak. I am but a blinded man. A man of the gods.’

‘We know who and what you are,’ says Arnza, using the point of his sword to prompt Teucer to lift his mantle over his shoulders. ‘Get on with it!’

There is a noise in the thicket.

The guard puts his sword to the priest’s throat and whispers. ‘Speak one word and I will spill your blood.’ He nods to Masu to check out the undergrowth.

The big man draws his blade, careful not to make a sound as it slithers free of its sheath. He eases his way through the tangle of twisting, hanging gorse. Twigs crack underfoot.

Teucer speaks in an un-hushed voice: ‘Your friend moves with the quietness of an elephant.’

Arnza presses the sword to his windpipe. ‘Be quiet.’

‘But the gods do not command me to be quiet. They command me to speak.’

The guard leans on his blade again. It nicks Teucer’s neck. A thin river of blood springs to the skin. ‘You’re not as brave now as when you killed Rasce and cut my face, are you?’

Another noise in the bushes.

Arnza spins round.

It is the split second Tetia needs.

She steps behind him and plunges one of Teucer’s ceremonial knives into the side of his neck.

She holds it there. Presses hard as he tries to fight her off. Uses both hands as he wriggles and kicks back at her. She keeps pressing until he hits the ground, gargling and choking on his own blood.

Now she darts forward to Teucer. ‘Husband, are you all right?’

He is on his hands and knees, feeling his way towards the guard. ‘Tetia! Thank the gods, you’re here. Pass me his sword – he has a companion nearby.’

Present Day

Carabinieri HQ, Venice

When the briefing is over and
the team leaders, forensic scientists and the ME and his assistants have all dispersed, Valentina Morassi walks Tom outside. At first he doesn’t realise that she wants to ask him something. Something personal.

Only when she’s walked considerably further than the front steps of the Carabinieri building does his pastoral instinct finally surface: ‘Valentina, is there something I can help you with?’

She struggles at first, unsure just how to unload the thoughts that are driving her crazy. ‘Do you mind if I walk with you? I need to clear my head.’

‘Don’t mind at all. In fact, I’d be delighted to have your company – you can be my guide. I’ve done this walk back to the hotel before but I’m geographically challenged and bound to get lost.’

She laughs. ‘People say getting lost is the only way to get to know Venice.’

‘Then I’ll soon be an expert.’

They stroll and talk about work for a while, including the tasks Vito has set them all. Tom has to find out more about rituals, cults and symbolism surrounding the liver. He jokes about it being his history, religious and biology homework but Valentina can barely muster a polite smile.

The sky is full of what Tom calls ‘old lady’ clouds, a greyness that seems to match the melancholia on his companion’s face. After a couple of bridges he tries to edge closer to what’s troubling her. ‘Valentina, I really admire your strength. How dedicated and professional you’ve been after the loss of your cousin. I can barely imagine how stressful it all is for you.’

She looks humbly at her feet. ‘
Grazie
. The work helps. It’s a welcome distraction – stops me thinking about him.’

Tom understands; he’s seen too many grieving relatives not to. ‘As
the funeral gets closer, you’ll feel pain at its rawest. Probably you’re already experiencing a little confusion, maybe some anger as well?’

She rubs a hand through her hair. ‘All of that.’

‘It’s natural. Part of the grieving process. When you lose someone so close to you, it’s overwhelming, bewildering. It’s going to take a while to get your bearings.’

She manages a tiny smile. ‘Like being in a strange city, such as Venice?’

Tom smiles. ‘Glad you’ve still got a sense of humour.’ He walks a couple of steps then looks kindly at her. ‘I really believe you
do
have to get lost in order to eventually find the new self that you become. Especially when it comes to dealing with the death of someone who’s been such a big part of your life.’

She looks up, and now there’s no trace of humour. ‘What happens when we die?’ She narrows her eyes and gives away just a glint of anger. ‘I mean, is that
really
it? We just become dust? Ashes to ashes, and all that?’

Tom stops walking. It’s a question he’s been asked many times. ‘I don’t believe so. I’m sure there’s more to us than only decay.’

‘More of what? What more is there?’

‘More to existence than our mortal time on earth.’ His eyes make a connection with hers. ‘I believe our spirits live on after we’re gone.’

Until recently she’d have laughed at such a remark. Not now. Not since Antonio’s death. ‘I hope you’re right, but I’m not even sure what a spirit is, let alone whether I have one and where it might go after I’m dead.’ It hurts her even to say the word
dead
– a word she’s used on a daily basis since joining the police and only
now
understands the meaning of.

He takes her hand. ‘Trust me, you have a spirit. And though I didn’t know Antonio well, I know he had one too – a very good one.’

She blinks. No tears, but they’re close. ‘I loved him so much. He wasn’t only a cousin – he was a best friend – the big brother I never had.’ And now the tears come. ‘Shit!’ She fumbles in her pocket for a tissue.

Tom puts his arms around her and holds her for a moment. Over her shoulder he sees the labyrinth of canals leading to the scene of Monica’s murder. He rubs Valentina’s shoulders to comfort her. ‘Things will get easier. It will take a while, but the worst of the pain will pass.’

Valentina pulls gently from his embrace and begins to walk. ‘I’m sorry. I try to keep these moments private.’

‘No need to apologise.’

Her cellphone beeps out that she’s missed a message. She takes it from
her coat pocket and sees the call was from Carvalho. ‘Somehow, everything seems to remind me of Antonio. I look at my phone and think it’s a text message from him, he was always wanting some favour or other. I go to make a call and I see his name on my directory – yet I just can’t bring myself to wipe it from the memory.’ She shakes her head. ‘Back home I still have answerphone messages from him on my landline.’

‘All that’s okay. It’s not time for you to let go yet.’

‘When will it be time?’

He holds her again. ‘Hard to say. Maybe after the funeral. You’ll know when it’s right to move on. You have to go steady. One step at a time.’

Valentina looks up and over his shoulder. ‘Your hotel. I’ve delivered you safe and sound.’

‘
Grazie
,’ says Tom, aware it’s one of the few Italian words he feels confident enough to try. ‘Do you want to come in? I’m meeting Tina – we could all have a drink in the bar if you need some company.’

Valentina lifts her phone and shows the missed call. ‘Thanks, but I have to get back. My boss will be sending out search squads if he doesn’t see me shortly.’

Tom smiles sympathetically. He wishes he could do more. ‘Okay. Take care, and please call me – any time – if you feel you want to talk.’

‘
Ciao
,’ says Valentina, raising a hand in thanks as she turns and begins the walk back to headquarters. Part of her wishes she’d taken up his offer. She probably would have done if it hadn’t included Tina.

Valentina thinks about calling her boss. She unlocks the phone and then determines to do something else first. She scrolls through the directory and finds the entry marked
Antonio
. She takes a breath, selects Options and then hits Delete.

666
BC

Atmanta

Masu rushes from the thicket and finds his friend Arnza dead. The blind netsvis is on his knees scrabbling in the dirt beside his corpse.

What he doesn’t see is Tetia.

With surprising force she swings
Arnza’s sword in a broad sweep at his back.

Sensing the danger, Masu turns as the blade scythes towards him. Instead of catching him full on, it slices into his side. A long wound, but not severe enough to stop him.

Tetia backs away, gripping the sword with both hands.

Masu advances.

He feigns a sweep to his right and then switches his body angle.

Tetia doesn’t even feel the cut. But she knows it’s there. Long before the pain arrives, the look in his eyes tells her his steel has found flesh.

Blood dribbles down her right arm from a wound just above the elbow. Suddenly, shock springs through her body. Arnza’s sword falls from her hands and the world spins fuzzily around her.

Masu knows she’s powerless. He looks towards the netsvis, the man who’d helped her kill his friend, and he can already taste revenge on his lips. He swings his sword at the arterial junction of Teucer’s neck and shoulder.

Blood spurts from a severed vein.

He shifts position and lunges. Smiles as steel slices through the priest’s stomach and bursts out through his back.

It is a fatal blow.

In his mind Teucer sees Tetia as she was on the day they first met. She is shy and beautiful and he aches to hold her face and kiss her.

A kick to his shoulder sends him sprawling to the ground.

Teucer can’t breathe.

Can’t feel any more.

He sees his wedding night. His wife’s robes falling from her shoulders. Tetia’s naked body lit by the fire in their hearth. She is waiting for him.