‘Was he suggesting that he was the murderer?’
‘That was my impression.’
‘That was also the way Landru saw it. He was visibly shocked,’ interjected Dupree. ‘I was standing next to him.’
‘But that was thirty years ago,’ observed Lapointe.
‘Everything about this is bizarre,’ said Bartolli. ‘But in a strange way, it all fits. The man who spoke to us was in total control and in command of all the facts, right down to the last detail. As far as I’m concerned, he’s our best candidate for a psychopath here, pulling all the strings. He ticks all the boxes.’
‘We know that Spiridon 4 couldn’t have committed the early murders,’ said Lapointe. ‘Those murders were well and truly before their time. The three Paris murders, maybe, but not the others.’
‘I watched the two clowns very carefully,’ continued Bartolli. ‘One of them was definitely an older man, I’d say. His demeanour, the way he spoke, the way he moved, suggested that.’
Lapointe nodded, taking it all in. The case was becoming stranger by the minute. ‘Anything else?’ he said.
‘Yes. This might explain why Jack and Landru were taken away,’ said Dupree. ‘The man in the shadows obviously has something quite specific in mind for them.’
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Lapointe.
‘After he showed off his collection, the man referred to the Mascarino amulet and that piece of the mask we just found in the ruins. He said they belonged together because only once they had been united would they give up their secrets—’
‘And he also said,’ interrupted Darrieux, ‘that Jack and Landru would help him achieve that. I think those were the exact words.’
‘Correct,’ said Bartolli. ‘That’s how I remember it as well. It follows that Jack and Landru will be used as some kind of pawns in this high-stakes game, and it all revolves around that lost Inca treasure. The man was obsessed with this subject and hardly spoke about anything else.’
‘Is that it?’ asked Lapointe.
‘There was one more thing,’ said Tristan quietly.
Everyone in the room turned and looked at Tristan, who until then hadn’t said a word.
‘Just before we were locked in the wine cellar and Jack and Landru were told to stay outside, Jack said something to me as I walked past him. I have no doubt that this is hugely significant. The expression on his face made that clear to me.’
‘What did he say?’ said Lapointe.
‘Two things: “Irish stutter”, and “Berchtesgaden”.’
‘What did he mean by that, do you think?’
‘Well, the man who spoke to us definitely had an Irish accent and spoke with a slight stutter. It was barely noticeable, subtle, but it was definitely there.’
‘And the second thing?’
‘Berchtesgaden is a place in Bavaria that Jack knows well. He’s been there several times, following up leads in connection with the lost Monet painting in 2008.’
‘And this could be relevant?’ said Lapointe.
‘Must be.’
‘Any ideas?’
‘Not yet.’
What Tristan hadn’t told Lapointe was that there was a third thing of importance. Throughout the strange video call, Tristan could sense something profoundly frightening. Something malevolent was reaching out from the distant past, threatening to engulf them all.
50
Florence: 8 November
‘This changes everything,’ said Grimaldi. ‘Two police officers shot dead, and Jack and Landru abducted under the very noses of the French police. I thought something like this could only happen here in Mafia-polluted Italy. I was clearly wrong. This is a disaster! Lapointe must be going out of his mind!’
‘We no longer have the luxury of time,’ said Cesaria, who had been up since the phone call from Lapointe at three am that morning. ‘And just as well, because the trial in Calabria is about to start in a few days. And we both know what that means—’
‘The end of Omerta,’ Grimaldi cut in, and lit one of his small cigars.
‘Our best lead,’ said Cesaria.
‘First Lorenza and now this. Jack abducted! What a mess! We all know what that could mean. The violence just goes on and on. Poor Tristan,’ said Grimaldi.
‘But if we move quickly, Omerta could give us the answers we are all looking for,’ continued Cesaria, ‘and perhaps put a stop to all this. I’ve asked Clara to join us. She should be here any moment. She has made some truly astonishing progress during the night, as you will see. And what Lapointe told me this morning, could bring us even a step closer.’
‘We could certainly do with some good news because so far, the villains appear to be winning.’ Grimaldi opened the window behind his desk and looked down into the street, bustling with early morning traffic. ‘I could kill for a coffee.’
‘Should I ...?’
‘No, thank you. Perhaps later. Let’s hear what Clara has to tell us first.’
Moments later, Samartini swept into the room, her face flushed with excitement. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said and put a bundle of files on a chair next to Grimaldi’s desk. ‘I’ve been up all night, but I think it may have been worth it. My American contacts have been most helpful.’
‘Enlighten us,’ said Grimaldi.
Samartini pushed back her glasses, which were sitting on the tip of her nose as usual, and picked up one of the files. ‘Do you mind?’ she said and pointed to the whiteboard next to Grimaldi’s desk.
‘Go right ahead.’
Fastidious and methodical by nature, Samartini wanted to put everything she had to say into its proper context first, and the best way to do that was to begin at the beginning. ‘A lot has happened since Cesaria and I met with Lapointe and the others at the Kuragin chateau on thirty-one October.’
Samartini picked up a felt pen and wrote Kuragin chateau meeting, 31 October in the top left-hand corner of the board. ‘That was the day it was decided to use Landru as the “bait”, as Lapointe put it, and Jack was asked to persuade Landru to go along with that. As we now know, he was successful, and in light of what happened earlier today, perhaps too much so.’
Samartini wrote down Landru bait in the middle of the board, and drew a line between the two notations. ‘But what really gave us an unexpected breakthrough in our strategy, was the delivery of Landru’s death mask with that encrypted phone number the next day. The mysterious puppeteer in the background pulling all the strings here made contact much sooner than we dared to hope. A line of communication between Landru and the suspected killer was opened.’
Samartini wrote down Landru death mask delivery, 1 November in the top right-hand corner with the word contact, underlined, after it. ‘This triggered a chain of unexpected events, with remarkable consequences we didn’t expect.’
‘Please explain,’ said Grimaldi, carefully watching Samartini.
‘First, Cesaria and I decided to use Landru’s recent release from jail to cause trouble among the dark net gamblers who had followed the Death Mask Murders for years, and flush out a reaction. We did this by contacting a number of them through Omerta, anonymously, of course. These were all high rollers Giordano had introduced to the game. Huge sums were wagered here—’
‘We know all this,’ Grimaldi cut in impatiently. He too had been up half the night and was irritable.
‘Perhaps so, but you may not know what happened late yesterday,’ said Cesaria, stepping in to assist Samartini, who was beginning to look a little flustered.
‘Sorry. Tell me.’
‘Instead of putting Alessandro under pressure, as we were hoping to do, quite the opposite happened. We know that since his father’s arrest, he’s been running the family business from his yacht in Monaco. He’s desperately trying to prove himself and make some money.’
‘What happened yesterday?’ demanded Grimaldi.
‘Another Death Mask Murders computer game appeared on the dark net called The Final Showdown. It’s all about online betting, but of
a very sophisticated, extremely violent, and highly illegal kind,’ said Samartini. ‘Because much of the violence is real.’ Samartini paused, collecting her thoughts.
‘We found it through Omerta and actually have access to this site,’ continued Samartini. ‘We can monitor everything that’s going on right now, in real time. In essence, this is a unique online-betting site available to a closed group of privileged, very rich and very depraved individuals with deep pockets, looking for the ultimate thrill. The site has turned into an instant hit and, just like before, huge amounts are already being wagered on various scenarios and potential outcomes.’
‘The encrypted site that was used previously has been reactivated, and that’s very fortuitous,’ said Cesaria. ‘According to the Americans, who are looking into this as we speak, it is the same site that was used to post the Landru murder video sent to Lapointe. As you know, the Americans have been after this operation for years – especially in connection with illegal arms sales to terrorists – and they have tried in vain to shut it down.’
‘And this could be helpful?’ asked Grimaldi.
‘It could; very,’ replied Cesaria. ‘Because something discovered in that video could make it possible to break the encryption and trace the source. And if that happens, the shield of the dark net may no longer provide anonymity and protection, and instead lead us to those hiding behind it.’
Grimaldi shook his head. ‘Cyber warfare,’ he said. ‘I’m an old-fashioned cop. Out of my league, I’m afraid.’
‘But not out of mine,’ said Samartini. ‘And that’s not the end of the good news.’
‘There’s more?’ said Grimaldi.
‘Yes,’ said Cesaria. ‘According to Lapointe, just before Tristan and the others were locked in the wine cellar, Jack said something to Tristan. You know what Tristan’s like; very perceptive to say the least, and there’s a special bond between those two. If we are right about this, what Jack said could be hugely significant here. It was clearly an observation about what was going on at the time.’
‘Oh? What did he say?’
‘Three words,’ said Samartini. She picked up the felt pen again, and wrote down Irish stutter, and Berchtesgaden at the bottom of the whiteboard, and drew a circle around the words.
‘You speak in riddles,’ said Grimaldi. ‘Please elaborate.’
‘How about I go down to your favourite trattoria,’ said Cesaria, ‘and bring up some coffee and a few pastries, and Clara can then tell us a little story over breakfast that will explain it all?’
‘You’re on. Let’s do that,’ said Grimaldi. ‘I’m starving.’
‘All right, guys,’ said Grimaldi, devouring his second cornetto. ‘Story time.’
Samartini put down her coffee and reached for one of her folders. ‘This is all about the dark net, a mathematical genius, a computer whizz, and a hacker extraordinaire, all wrapped into one.’
Samartini held up her file. ‘I received this just an hour ago from Washington.’
Grimaldi looked expectantly at Samartini.
‘After the 1993 World Trade Centre bombing, the CIA collected intelligence around the world about hundreds of suspected black market arms dealers who could be supplying arms and explosives to potential terrorists. This was considered a promising line of enquiry for detecting – and reaching – terrorist cells.’
‘Makes sense,’ observed Grimaldi.
‘Obviously, a number of operators stood out and warranted further investigation,’ continued Samartini. ‘That’s when the Dark Net Bazaar first came to the attention of law enforcement agencies in various countries.’
Samartini looked at Grimaldi. ‘Does the Dark Net Bazaar, or DNB, mean anything to you?’
‘Should it?’
‘I thought so. For years the DNB was an online, illegal marketplace where it was possible to buy just about anything imaginable, for a price. It was banned in most countries and pursued by law enforcement agencies around the globe, trying in vain to close it down. At first, the Americans were only interested in arms deals, but soon other, more sinister activities appeared on the site, like snuff movies, real-time murders, extreme pornography, and especially gambling. But what really focused their attention was a failed assassination attempt on the United States Ambassador to Israel that was linked to the DNB, because Mossad strongly suspected that the assassin had been sourced through the site, which had acted as a go-between, a broker—’
Grimaldi held up his hand. ‘Fascinating, but where are you going with this?’
‘It’s relevant, trust me,’ said Cesaria. ‘This is only the background.’
Grimaldi shrugged.
‘Because of this possible connection, the Americans began to dig deeper,’ continued Samartini, ‘until they came up with a name: Ronan O’Hara, an Irishman suspected of being the man behind the DNB. Because the DNB operated on the dark web, it wasn’t possible to pinpoint where the operation was actually located, but MI5 suspected it was somewhere in the UK. As it turned out, they were right and began to close in on a farmhouse in Cornwall. Unfortunately, by the time there was a raid, O’Hara had gone to ground and disappeared. After that, the Americans lost interest.’
Samartini reached for her coffee.
‘Is that it?’
‘No. In many ways this is just the beginning. I contacted MI5. They have a comprehensive dossier on O’Hara and, as it turns out, he’s been on their radar for years, but has never been found.’
‘Something puzzles me,’ said Grimaldi, shaking his head.
‘What’s that?’ asked Cesaria.
‘How did you come up with O’Hara in the first place? And why do you think he could have something to do with what happened at the Kuragin chateau this morning?’
Smiling, Samartini stood up, walked over to the whiteboard and pointed to the three words at the bottom. ‘Because of this: Irish stutter, and Berchtesgaden.’
‘Go on.’
‘Remember I told you that my American contact detected something embedded in the encryption of that video sent to Lapointe about the Landru murder?’
Grimaldi nodded.
‘That something raised a red flag that pointed to the DNB. And when I told her about the Irish stutter and Berchtesgaden – a place in Bavaria – that Jack mentioned this morning, and this information was run through a supercomputer together with the encryption point from before, one name came up: Ronan O’Hara. Simple.’
‘And you really think this could help us?’ said Grimaldi.
‘It’s early days and we must dig deeper, but yes, we think it’s definitely a lead worth pursuing,’ said Cesaria.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘While O’Hara did go to ground and disappeared off the intelligence radar, the DNB never stopped operating. In fact, over the years it became stronger and more sophisticated, especially in online gambling of a very special kind, which is its trademark and a huge money-spinner. As I said before, law enforcement agencies around the world have tried in vain to shut it down. It is operating right now, and Omerta has taken us right to it, because the online gambling involving the Giordanos we mentioned earlier, is operated by the DNB.’
Grimaldi looked stunned. ‘Wow! You have been busy. Well done, guys. So, where to from here?’
‘I think Clara and I should go to London, talk to our contacts there, and have a close look at the MI5 dossier on O’Hara. It’s our best lead by far. The French police will throw everything at this disaster and follow up forensic leads on the ground. They have the resources. This could be our contribution.’
Grimaldi nodded. ‘Good idea. When do you want to do this?’
‘I’ve booked an afternoon flight,’ said Cesaria.
‘Then you better go. There’s obviously a lot to attend to before you can leave.’
‘Quite,’ said Cesaria. ‘But there’s one more thing ...’
‘What?’ asked Grimaldi.
‘I would like to ask Tristan to come with us to London. You know what h
e’s like, and how close he is to Jack. He can see things we can’t. It’s quite a gift. And let’s not forget, he was right there in the chateau when it all happened. What do you think?’
‘Do it! We need all the help we can get in this.’
Cesaria made eye contact with Samartini. ‘I better call him then,’ she said.
‘You do that,’ said Grimaldi, lighting another one of his small cigars. ‘And besides, we owe him. Lorenza, remember ...?’
51
In the salt mines near Berchtesgaden: 8 November
Heavily sedated and strapped to a storage frame in the back of the van, Jack had been in a comatose state throughout the entire ten-hour trip from Paris to Berchtesgaden. Taking turns at the wheel and using back roads wherever possible, Dragan and Petrinko had driven the eight hundred kilometres non-stop. By the time Lapointe arrived at the Kuragin chateau just after three am, the van had already covered more than half the distance.
Excellent, thought O’Hara. He adjusted his computer screen as he watched the black van being backed into a barn on CCTV. The barn was part of an old farmhouse he owned at the foot of the mountain, not far from the entrance to the famous Berchtesgaden salt mines, a popular tourist attraction just outside the township.
The reason O’Hara had bought the property was not because of its lush meadows, but because of something far more practical: access to an abandoned, labyrinthine section of the old salt mines under the house, where he kept the most sensitive parts of his dark net server. It was a secure, stable, underground environment where the temperature never varied and unwelcome intruders never ventured because no-one really knew that this section of the mine existed.
O’Hara picked up his mobile and called Petrinko.
‘Well done,’ said O’Hara. ‘This will be your home for the time being. You will find everything you need inside the house. My men will take care of things from here. The van will disappear, and Rogan and Landru are no longer your responsibility.’
‘What would you like us to do next? Anything?’ asked Petrinko.
The Death Mask Murders Page 31
