The Spear of Destiny

by Julian Noyce

  De Luca heard her sobbing again.

  “I truly understand how you feel Maria. I’m sure there is a perfectly logical reason to your husband’s whereabouts. Is there any family or friends he may have stayed with overnight?”

  “No. I’ve tried them all. Everyone I can think of. He’s never done this before in six years of marriage.”

  “Is there anything else you can think of to help us Mrs Balotelli.”

  “I can think of nothing.”

  “I understand. As I said I’m sure there is a perfectly good reason as to why he didn’t come home last night….Probably a mistress,” De Luca was thinking. He decided not to tell her about the missing police car, “I will personally get back to you as soon as there is any news. In the meantime Maria the number I’m ringing you from is my own mobile number. If you can think of anything else please don’t hesitate to call. Don’t worry Maria. We will find him as soon as we can.”

  She thanked him and he waited until the line went dead. De Luca reached into his trouser pocket and took out his keys. He selected one and opened the drawer in his desk, reached in and took out a 9mm Beretta, checked it and put it in it’s holster on the belt around his waist.

  Thirty minutes since he’d spoken to Ferrara and De Luca left the police station and got into the black Lancia that was waiting for him.

  “Have you got details of Balotelli’s patrol patterns?”

  “Yes sir. Did you speak to the wife?”

  De Luca nodded.

  “She wasn’t much help. Just kept bleating on about how he’d never done this sort of thing before. He’s probably been shagging some bit on the side all night. When I catch up with him I’ll have his balls for not returning his car. The tax payers own that car not him!”

  “Yes sir. Did you tell his wife all this?”

  De Luca turned his head.

  “Of course I didn’t. I told her we were doing everything we could and that there must be a perfectly good reason. But I’ll tell you this. If he’s used that car for anything other than police work we won’t have to worry about the wife killing him. I’ll do it myself.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Now. Where does this Balotelli patrol?”

  “I quickly checked with records and he…..” Ferrara pulled out a map and pointed to the A12 road, “He issues most of his tickets here. He books motorists for overtaking on the white lines.”

  De Luca was reading the map.

  “I know it well. We’ll start there.”

  De Luca got out of the black Lancia and stretched his legs. Ferrara had stopped the car at the large run off area that was triangular in shape. Armco barriers stopped anything from tumbling off the cliffs. De Luca looked down the road at the approaching traffic. A Porsche sped past a lorry, overtaking on the white lines. The two detectives stared at the driver who slowed down and looked guiltily at them as he drove past.

  “I can see why he likes to sit here and catch offenders,” De Luca said, “There’s another one.”

  This time it was a speeding BMW. De Luca watched another two cars break the law before turning his back on the traffic. He looked at tyre marks left in the dirt. Some were clearly HGV’S or coaches. No doubt providing tourists with photographic opportunities. Many were car tracks. One of which caught his eye.

  “Hey Mario. You’ve got one of those I-phones haven’t you. Get over here with it.”

  Ferrara offered his phone.

  “These have a really good camera on them don’t they?”

  “Very good.”

  “Take some pictures of all these tyre marks. Especially this one.”

  Ferrara began flicking the touch screen on his I-phone until he got the camera symbol.

  “Just stills or video?”

  “Do both.”

  “Yes sir. Why am I photographing tyre marks?”

  “Why?”

  “Yes why?”

  De Luca smiled at his apprentice. He had much to teach the young detective.

  “The Carabinieri had new vehicles earlier this year didn’t they?”

  Ferrara nodded while clicking away.

  “To my knowledge, apart from the vans the cars were all Alfa Romeo’s.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then they would have all been supplied with the same brand of tyres if straight from the factory.”

  “So if the cars are all new they would still be on their first set of tyres.”

  “Correct and one of these tracks may match the tyres on Balotelli’s Alfa and if I’m right I think it’s this one.”

  Ferrara took photographs of the tracks in as many angles as he could.

  “Get those sent to Ezio in forensics straight away.”

  “Yes sir,” Ferrara began sending the MMS data.

  “And tell him I want analysis immediately. The moment he can pinpoint make and brand.”

  Midway through the messages being sent Ferrara’s phone rang in his hand.

  “It’s Ezio,” Ferrara said answering.

  The conversation was very brief.

  “They’ve got a location for Balotelli’s last known position.”

  De Luca reached into the Lancia for the map. Ferrara drew his finger on the map until he found the coordinates he was searching for.

  “Balotelli’s car’s tracker last reported from this area here. It’s an old abandoned airfield.”

  De Luca folded the map.

  “I’ll drive,” he said as Ferrara raced round to the passenger side. De Luca reached out of the driver’s side window and placed a single blue light on the roof. Traffic instantly slowed on the busy road to allow him to pull out.

  De Luca turned off the blue light and reached out and removed it from the Lancia’s roof as they approached the mesh gates to the airfield. The gates were locked as De Luca had expected them to be. He stopped the Lancia on the small, dirt, pull off area and looked around.

  “There’s nothing here,” Ferrara said.

  De Luca shook his head.

  “It’s been derelict and up for sale for years,” De Luca noticed the heavy chain and padlock on the gate, “That’s new though,” he said pointing out of the windscreen. He opened the driver’s door and got out of the car slowly. He examined the heavy, brass padlock attached to the chain.

  “Definitely new,” he said. He looked through the gates, “There are tyre marks on the grass. More than one vehicle and recent.”

  De Luca bent forward with his knees far apart and cupped his hands between his legs.

  “Come on.”

  “What sir?”

  “You’re going over the fence. I’ll give you a boost.”

  Ferrara scrabbled over the gate and dropped down onto the soft grass on the other side. De Luca reached into his pocket and withdrew a leatherman tool and tossed it over the fence. Ferrara caught it.

  “You’ll find pliers on that. Cut some of those clips and let me in.”

  Ferrara cut through the clips holding the mesh panels taut. When he had done four he took handfuls of the mesh and lifted up the fence with all his might. De Luca was now able to scramble under the fence. He stood upright and brushed dirt from his palms.

  “Good work,” he said patting Ferrara on the back, “Now let’s have a look around.”

  They searched around the buildings. De Luca spotted another tyre track in some mud which appeared to match those Ferrara had already photographed.

  “Photograph this,” the inspector said, “See if it’s a match.”

  Ferrara took a shot from every angle.

  “Send that through to Ezio as well. Tell him to get back to us ASAP and find out who is the agent for this site. I want to know who has been in and out of here recently. Someone bought a new padlock for that gate.”

  De Luca left Ferrara to make his phone call while he explored the upstairs of the main building. He found the door to the main building heavily fortified. He went back downstairs. His assistant had just finished on the phone.

  “The door upst
airs has a new lock as well.”

  “The Centauro letting agency is dealing with this site.”

  “Do we have their details?”

  “Ezio is looking into them as we speak.”

  “Very well. We may need to pay them a visit. Now let’s check out that hangar.”

  The main hangar was empty. In the corner against the wall was a large dustbin and a brush. De Luca tipped the dustbin up and emptied it’s contents onto the floor. He bent down and sifted through the rubbish with his pen, then stood up.

  “Nothing.”

  He glanced around the hangar. Then conceded that there were no more clues. They were just crawling back under the fence when De Luca’s mobile began ringing in his pocket. He looked at the caller display. It was Sonnenburg.

  “Commandant,” De Luca said answering the phone.

  “Cesare that police car you’re looking for has turned up.”

  De Luca turned to look at Ferrara.

  “Where?”

  “Here. At the Vatican.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Natalie, Dennis, Hutchinson and their guide Luigi Alberto all squeezed through the airport style scanners and into St Peter’s square to join the hundreds of tourists already there. They had spent the morning exploring ancient Rome and had left, in what was Alberto’s opinion, the best for last. Natalie smiled and pointed. They all turned to see the basilica of St Peter’s church towering above the square.

  “Now that is a sight,” Hutchinson said, “I’ve always wanted to see it.”

  “Vatican city is an independent state created by the Lateran treaty of 11 Feb 1929 which was signed by Pope Pius XI, the holy see and the Italian government. It covers an area of 108 acres on the hill west of the Tiber river. It is separated from the rest of Rome by high walls on all sides except at the Piazza of St Peter. Over one thousand people live within these walls. The Vatican issues its own coins, postage stamps and has its own postal service. The head of state is his holiness Pope Benedict XVI. He is the 265 Pope of the Roman catholic church. He has full legislative and judicial powers with freedom under the Lateran treaty to organize his armed forces. He is also free to move or live through Italy as he should so desire. The Pope reigns over one billion catholics throughout the world and is assisted by the college of Cardinals and synods of bishops, synods being church councils.

  The building you are looking at now, St Peter’s church, is the largest church in the world. The Vatican palace has been the official residence of the Popes since 1377. The original building was built in AD 319 by the Roman emperor Constantine who built a basilica over the tomb of St Peter himself, the first bishop of Rome. In the fifteenth century the building looked as if it would collapse and in 1452 the reconstruction was begun. The whole project soon ran out of money though and it was abandoned for over 50 years until 1506 when Pope Julius II gave instructions for the entire area of buildings to be demolished and the new St Peter’s to be built. Pope Julius II commissioned an architect by the name of Donato Bramante to do the work. Though it wouldn’t be until 1626, another 120 years before the work would be completed. Bramante died in 1514 and four other architects would work on the buildings. Namely Baldassare Peruzzi, Antonio Sangallo, Raphael and of course the most famous of them all, Michaelangelo.

  A year before Bramante’s death, in 1513, Pope Julius II commissioned Raphael to decorate the Vatican apartments and Michaelangelo to paint the Sistine chapel.

  In 1527 Rome was sacked by the army of the holy Roman empire led by the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V and the work once again ground to a halt. Over the next twenty years very little was done and then in 1546 Pope Paul II persuaded an elderly Michaelangelo to complete the building. Michaelangelo reverted back to the original plan of Bramante’s to create a church of Greek style cross plan. Do any of you know what that is?”

  Natalie nodded.

  “It means that the arms of the church are all the same length.”

  “That’s good Miss Feltham. Have you excavated churches in Greece?”

  “No. During the summer months the institute runs diving tours for extra funding from the island of Zakynthos. It’s just something I learned somewhere. The sort of thing one picks up.”

  “What do you dive for?”

  “Oh there are a few ancient shipwrecks off the coast, Roman mainly, though there’s virtually nothing of the ships left themselves. There is an amazing display of hundreds of amphorae all standing upright in the sand.”

  “It sounds very interesting. You must surely love your work as I love mine.”

  “You have a fascinating job,” Hutchinson added, “This tour is fantastic.”

  “I live in one of the oldest and greatest cities in the world. I knew when I was just a small boy that I would dedicate my life to her. To me, she is the most beautiful city in the world.”

  “I’d say,” Hutchinson concluded.

  “Now,” Alberto said, bringing them back to his tour, “The best of Michaelangelo’s work on st Peter’s church would have been the dome itself but it was never completed during his lifetime and his plans were modified after his death by the architect Giacomo Della Porta. Later when we go inside I will tell you more about the church itself. Now in front of the church is the most beautiful, I think, architecture in the world, St Peter’s square. The Piazza Di San Pietro designed by Gianlorenzo Bernini. It was started in 1656 and completed in 1667. Now it’s called St Peter’s square but this is in fact wrong. It’s shape is not square but elliptical. You can see there are four rows of giant coloumns creating two collonades. Miss Feltham, Mr Dennis, if you would like to stand on either of the stone discs on the ground here and here,” he waited until they were in position, “We are lucky that the crowds aren’t too big. You’ll note that the collonades now appear to be single rows only.”

  Alberto paused long enough for Hutchinson to have tried it also.

  “That is amazing,” the American said.

  “The Egyptian obelisk,” the Italian guide continued, “Is 25.9 metres in height or 85ft if you don’t measure in metric.”

  “Never did understand metres,” Hutchinson said, “Pounds and inches are what I know best.”

  “The obelisk was brought to Rome from Heliopolis in Egypt in 35AD by the Roman emperor Caligula. It was originally used in the circus and was moved to here in 1586 by Pope Sixtus V. The star at the top of the obelisk is the Chigi star named after Fabio Chigi who became Pope Alexander VII and under whose reign the Piazza was built. During the moving of the obelisk there was almost disaster when the ropes holding it began to break. A warning shout from a Genoese sailor saved the obelisk from falling and the palms used every palm Sunday thereafter came from his home town of Bordighera. They still do to this day.”

  “Wow!” Hutchinson said, “So much history.”

  “Indeed there is. Now shall we go inside the Vatican museum?”

  De Luca and Ferrara jumped out of the Lancia and ducked straight under the police cordon tape stretched across the street. They each flashed police I.D. at the uniformed Carabinieri officers who, due to the blue flashing light on the roof of the Lancia, would have let them through anyway. The officers stepped out of their way. The street ahead had been evacuated and they approached a larger group of police standing a couple of hundred metres ahead. As they got nearer Sonnenburg turned and strode towards them. He shook hands with them both then almost instantly began leading them towards another line of police tape. They passed under this cordon and now De Luca and Ferrara could see the Carabinieri Alfa Romeo parked amongst other cars at the side of the street.

  “Balotelli’s car was discovered by a parking ticket officer. She was doing a routine inspection of parked vehicles. That’s her over there,” Sonnenburg pointed towards a small woman in a police uniform giving a statement to a detective.

  “She noticed that the back of the police car seemed to be considerably lower than the front. She called in its registration number unaware it was reported missing.”

 
De Luca nodded.

  “And the car’s tracker?” he asked.

  “Disabled. We are unable to trace its whereabouts even though we know it’s parked right there.”

  “I see. And the reason for the suspension appearing low?”

  “That’s why we called you,” Sonnenburg said, “Although the car is within Vatican city. It belongs to the Carabinieri and it’s your jurisdiction. Your call.”

  They passed the last line of uniformed police and now the street was empty.

  “We’re keeping the public back for a block in each direction,” Sonnenburg said.

  “And the Vatican?”

  “As normal for the moment. There’s no need to cause unnecessary alarm.”

  “What do you think is in the trunk of Balotelli’s car?”

  “I’m guessing Balotelli himself.”

  “That’s what I’m fearing.”

  They got to the police car and De Luca walked around it, slowly, looking for clues. There was clearly something heavy in the boot. De Luca called out twice. There was no answer.

  “Do we have a spare set of keys?”

  “No. Balotelli has, had, the only set.”

  “We’re going to have to get it open,” De Luca said tapping the black paintwork with his forefinger, “Get someone who can open it.”

  Sonnenburg turned to a group of police nearby.

  “Get a crowbar.”

  Ferrara’s phone started ringing. He moved away from the group to answer it. A policeman ran up with a crowbar. Sonnenburg and De Luca moved aside for him.

  “Open that,” Sonnenburg ordered pointing to the Alfa Romeo’s boot.

  “Si commandant.”

  The officer tried gently to enter the crowbar into the gap in the boot. The metal of the bar being too thick for it to enter. De Luca watched with impatience.

  “Here let me try.”

  He snatched the crowbar and began attacking the boot with gusto. He was unconcerned as to the damage he was causing to both the bodywork and paint.