The Rome Prophecy ts-2

by Jon Tracy

  ‘Sir…’

  He halts her with his hand. ‘Don’t try to defend it, Captain. This woman patient is now out of bounds to you and your inquiry team. She’s off limits, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He turns his head towards the briefing room, well aware that it’s full of officers awaiting her return. ‘Where are we on the rest of this case?’

  She hesitates.

  ‘Aside from this lunatic woman, are you close to giving me any clear explanation for why we have a dead, ball-less man under a bridge on the Tiber and a severed hand in a church in Cosmedin?’

  The look on her face says she isn’t. ‘No, sir. It’s extremely complicated.’

  ‘Then let me simplify things. Have we identified the murder victim?’

  Valentina looks pained. ‘We lifted prints from the corpse, but they don’t give us anything.’

  ‘And the dismembered hand?’

  ‘The same.’

  ‘So nothing?’

  ‘I wouldn’t go as far-’

  He cuts her off again. ‘No identities on the dead or injured. No suspect to interrogate. No forensic evidence to land a charge on anyone, and as far as I can see, not even a hint of a motive. How much closer to nothing can you get than that?’

  Valentina can’t help but colour a little. ‘We have leads and theories, sir. Given time, we-’

  ‘May well get someone else killed?’

  She bites her tongue.

  Major and captain just stand and stare at each other.

  He says nothing.

  She says nothing.

  The conversation’s over. Now is the moment when he’s going to suspend her.

  Caesario smiles.

  He’s going to let her stew in her own juice. Marinate in her anticipation of his next action. ‘Do you know what I’m going to say to you now, Captain?’

  She swallows hard.

  ‘I’m sure you do.’ Another smile. ‘As of this moment, you are suspended from duty. You will receive written confirmation of your suspension before you leave this building. This suspension implies no guilt or pre-judgement; it is merely necessary to remove you from the process that will now unfold. On receipt of the suspension notice, you will surrender your firearm, any Carabinieri equipment, identification and authorisation. You will not instigate, nor receive, any contact from colleagues, at either this workplace or any other within the force. You will be notified in due course of any charges brought against you. You are entitled to representation at any future hearing should one be convened. Do you understand what I’ve told you?’

  She stays strong. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good. Do you have any questions about the process I’ve just outlined to you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Then please go and wait outside my office while the appropriate documentation is prepared and where you will be formally relieved of your command.’

  Valentina starts to turn away.

  He puts a hand on her arm and whispers in her ear, ‘You really should have taken up my offer, Morassi.’

  70

  Tom Shaman sits silently in the briefing room and watches.

  Gossip about Valentina spreads like a virus.

  A poisonous whisper here joins with speculation there. Within minutes, everyone is infected by suggestions that she’s being sacked, suspended or reprimanded. The cause seems to be anything from insubordination to fraud or even corruption.

  At first Federico does nothing to stop the outbreak. Finally he steps in.

  ‘Can I have some quiet, please?’ He walks to the chair where Valentina sat and stands behind it. ‘Captain Morassi is busy with the major, so let’s make use of your precious time and begin the briefing in her absence. I want to run through house-to-house enquiries and medical, employment and social services searches on both Anna Fratelli and the prisoner we released this afternoon, Guilio Angelis. After that, I want a team chasing the forensic lab for progress on all their reports. I want an update on the translation analysis being done on the biblical text pasted on the walls of Anna’s apartment…’

  Federico stops.

  His attention switches to the back of the hall.

  Major Armando Caesario is standing there. ‘Lieutenant, due to unseen and serious circumstances, you need to adjourn this meeting immediately.’

  Chairs start to scrape back on the old wooden floor, but there’s no accompanying chatter.

  Tom fades into a corner behind a whiteboard as the room empties.

  He hears the door shut.

  ‘Lieutenant, I have just suspended Captain Morassi pending an investigation into a very serious matter.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘The administrator at the Policlinico has made allegations of serious misconduct against both you and her. As a consequence, he has obtained a protection order stopping us interviewing or interfering in any way with the treatment of their patient, Anna… Anna…’ He wriggles his fingers as he fumbles for her name.

  ‘Fratelli, sir.’

  ‘Fratelli.’ Caesario takes a beat, then asks his next question. ‘How do you view Captain Morassi’s actions in relation to Fratelli, Lieutenant?’

  ‘In what way, sir?’

  ‘In reference to how she conducted herself with the patient. Did she bully her? Was she aggressive with her? Physically violent?’ Before Federico can answer, Caesario spots Tom by the whiteboard.

  ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’

  Tom answers calmly, ‘I’m waiting for Captain Morassi. I’m a friend.’

  The penny drops. ‘Oh, the friend. I understand. Well, friends should wait downstairs in reception, not in here.’ Caesario steps aside and motions to the door.

  ‘Sure.’ Tom reluctantly leaves.

  The major turns back to Assante. ‘Why was he in this briefing room?’

  ‘Captain Morassi thought he could help.’

  ‘Dear God, what is the force coming to?’ Caesario lets out a long sigh. ‘I never thought I’d see the day when we had women captains, let alone a situation where one might think her ex-priest lover could be of use to an investigation.’

  Federico finds himself compelled to defend her. ‘He did find the body by the river, sir. And he did overpower the prisoner, Angelis, when he assaulted Captain Morassi. And being an ex-priest, he may have something to offer on interpreting some of the biblical links to the case.’

  ‘Oh, really? Well then, maybe he’d make a better officer than her.’ Caesario looks over to the door. ‘Before we were rudely interrupted by the captain’s lover, I was asking you about her behaviour towards Fratelli. You didn’t answer me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, what exactly was the question again, sir?’

  ‘Was Morassi violent towards the prisoner? There was that incident in the cell block; did she provoke it?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Caesario’s not getting the answers he wants.

  ‘Think again, Lieutenant. Perhaps it wasn’t quite as you and she wrote it up. Did Morassi provoke the prisoner the night she was arrested? Was the patient just defending herself?’

  Federico sees what the major is driving at. ‘It wasn’t like that, sir.’

  ‘Think harder, Assante. Because if it had been like that, it would also be consistent with the story told by this man we released, Angelis. Maybe Morassi didn’t clearly identify herself as a police officer. Maybe she did make a wrongful entry into Fratelli’s apartment and this man was just reacting like a protective friend.’

  ‘I wasn’t there at that incident, sir.’

  Caesario gets himself up close to Federico. ‘This is one of those moments when you have to make a decision. Decide whose side you are on. You need to work out whether you want to be a witness or a defendant.’

  Federico tries to play dumb. ‘How do you mean, sir?’

  ‘Well, let’s look at your own behaviour towards Anna Fratelli. Were you acting that way of your own volition, or were you simply following Morassi’s
orders?’

  He hesitates.

  ‘Were you following orders, Lieutenant, or were you disobeying them?’

  ‘Following them, sir.’

  ‘I thought so.’

  Federico can’t leave it there. ‘But Major, neither of us did anything wrong. We respected every demand by the medics to back off as soon as the patient looked even remotely stressed.’

  ‘Save it, Lieutenant! If that’s your approach, then I can listen to the rest of what you have to say at your disciplinary hearing.’

  Federico looks down at his shoes.

  Caesario puts a fatherly hand on his officer’s shoulder. ‘What I imagine, Federico, is that you were put in a difficult – no, not difficult – an impossible position.’ He pats his shoulder. ‘You were given instructions by your captain, and because you respect rank, you followed them as best you could. However – and this is a very important however – I am also sure you voiced your concerns to the captain about her ethics in pursuing such actions.’ He gives him a knowing look. ‘I am equally sure that you may now be able to recall those concerns and list them in a witness statement that you could write out for use in a case against the captain.’

  Federico doesn’t respond.

  ‘It would be greatly to your benefit – both immediately and subsequently – should you be blessed with full recall about Captain Morassi’s unbefitting and unethical behaviour. If such a statement were made now, I would be able to allow you to continue as the lead officer in this case and promise that charges are not brought against you. After all, you will be a key witness for the prosecution in the court martial that is bound to follow.’

  71

  Tom doesn’t have to wait long in reception.

  Valentina soon appears. She looks drained of all colour. In her hands are two carrier bags. Her personal belongings, newly cleared from her desk.

  ‘Come here.’ He opens his arms and embraces her tightly. ‘Everything will be fine.’

  Valentina is more angry than tearful.

  She didn’t expect fairness. Certainly didn’t expect favours. But she also didn’t anticipate this.

  She pulls away from him. ‘Let’s talk in the car, not here.’

  He understands.

  Valentina produces the veneer of a smile for the front desk staff as she leaves the building.

  ‘Your major came into the briefing room after you left.’

  ‘I guessed so.’ Valentina zaps the car open and they slide inside. ‘He gave me a letter suspending me, pending an internal inquiry and a possible court martial. Then he told me that he’d made you wait in reception.’

  Tom nods. ‘I heard him speaking to Federico. Sounded like he was warming him up to take over from you.’

  ‘Big surprise.’

  She starts the engine, clicks off the park brake and moves out of the yard.

  ‘They were talking about the night you got injured, and I got the feeling Federico was being asked to say it was your fault.’

  Valentina turns on the radio as the Fiat noses out into the traffic. ‘I can’t talk about it right now, Tom. I don’t know whether I want to scream, get hideously drunk or find a gun and blow Caesario’s head off.’

  ‘Screaming is the best option out of the three.’

  She does.

  Very loudly.

  Tom covers his ears.

  When she’s finished, they both laugh.

  He dips the radio. ‘As a matter of interest, where is home tonight?’

  ‘Not that fleapit we stayed in. The insurance company is going to cover a hotel until they’ve inspected the place and filed a report. I have somewhere in mind.’

  He can’t help but be impressed. Even when her world turns to garbage, she’s still together enough to look after them both. Seems women the world over do that. Guys take a body blow and they go down. They wallow or drink themselves unconscious. Women take a knock and they just ride it, get on with the job of looking after themselves and those they love most.

  Minutes later, Valentina parks at the front of a functional three-star on Via Mario de’ Fiori.

  ‘Let me book us in,’ says Tom. ‘If the press get a whiff of the suspension and come hunting, then you’ll be harder to trace.’

  She slaps a credit card down on the reception desk. ‘I don’t want to be hard to trace.’ She stands tippy-toe and kisses him.

  The front desk is busy and they have to wait.

  Tom takes the place in.

  It’s cosy enough.

  Off to his right is a lounge area with light wood-panelled walls, and some of those dark chesterfield leather settees that you see in old English homes. A large desk in the corner supports a computer and printer, and there’s a long coffee table filled with magazines and leaflets about Rome. To his left, a thick red carpet flows down a marble staircase into the reception area. There are only two people working behind the high curved desk, hence the delay. Behind them, Tom sees the key slots and mail for a total of seventeen rooms. There are no frequent-visitor leaflets and nothing promoting other hotels across Italy or Europe. He guesses the place is probably family-owned and not part of a chain.

  All pluses in his book.

  Valentina dangles a brass key and a warm smile before him.

  He follows her upstairs to a first-floor bedroom.

  It’s decorated in soft peach and gentle gold, with matching ceiling-to-floor curtains and a bed large enough to land an Airbus on.

  Valentina kicks off her shoes and throws her coat on the quilt. ‘Wine! I don’t care what colour or temperature, just open some, please. I’m going to the bathroom.’

  Tom finds the minibar.

  He selects two small screw-top bottles of Frascati and empties them into glasses. Valentina reappears from the bathroom and all but downs the cold white before sitting on the bed alongside him. ‘I was just thinking, now that work isn’t in the way, we should do something touristy. You’ve not seen anything of Rome except police stations and bodies, so let’s fix that.’

  He touches her face. ‘I’ve seen everything I want.’

  ‘Aaah, you say all the right things.’

  He puts an arm around her and kisses the side of her forehead. ‘I’m happy just to grab dinner here and stay in the hotel if you prefer.’

  She shakes her head. ‘No, I’d like to get out. I don’t want to sit and brood. I need to move around and be distracted.’

  A muffled ring fights its way out from the pocket of the crumpled coat she’s thrown on the bed.

  Valentina ignores it.

  She sips her wine and it rings again.

  Tom unfolds the coat and offers her the noisy pocket. ‘Maybe it’s good news.’

  She doubts it. She dips her hand in and takes out her phone.

  Tom goes back to the minibar in search of more wine. By the time he’s retrieved some from the back of the bottom shelf, she’s finished the call.

  Her face looks as empty as their glasses.

  ‘It was Federico. He’s been suspended as well.’

  72

  Guilio Brygus Angelis doesn’t go back to the stinking hole he calls home.

  He may never go back.

  The cops didn’t find anything there, he’s sure of that, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before they get lucky.

  He learned that a long time ago.

  You can take all the precautions in the world, but if you hang around in the same place too long, eventually the cops get lucky. They talk to neighbours, shopkeepers, local kids. They get a hold of you.

  Well, he won’t be staying around long enough for that to happen.

  It’s starting to rain – a shower, that’s all – but he backs up into the doorway of a cheap souvenir shop.

  Doorways are always good places to be.

  And this is an excellent one.

  It’s the perfect place to watch the comings and goings at the Carabinieri command building right opposite him.

  He’s amazed by how many cops come o
ut to smoke.

  No sooner are they through the front doors than their big cop hands are jabbing filters in their snarky little mouths and they’re lighting up.

  Lieutenant Assante throws down a match as he lights up and walks out into the rain.

  Guilio follows him to his car, a beat-up Lancia parked a block away.

  Doesn’t look as though the Carabinieri pay very well. There’s a child seat in the back. No doubt his money goes on his kid, or kids. He looks like the type who’ll have as many as his wife will make him.

  Guilio notes the number and watches as the cop climbs in and drives off without even putting on his seat belt.

  Reckless.

  The guy is just asking for trouble.

  73

  Drinking and walking are universal answers to most problems.

  When the minibar is dry, Valentina resorts to the latter.

  Motion to cope with emotion.

  Lots of emotion.

  In fact, she’s fired up and emotional enough to walk the length of the Appian Way, and then some.

  She’s proud of the career she’s built herself. Rightly so. Proud of the crimes she’s solved, the people she’s helped and all the badasses she’s locked up.

  How dare a sexist dinosaur like Caesario try to take that away from her?

  She walks Tom all the way out to the Piazza Navona, but to no avail. Bernini’s ever-flowing Fontana dei Fiumi does nothing to lighten her mood.

  From there she drags him east through the back streets, across Corso del Rinascimento and Via della Rotonda to the awe-inspiring Pantheon.

  Inside, neither of them manages more than marginal interest in the guide’s stories of Agrippa, Hadrian, Constantine and the dozens of other historic figures who created, refurbished, worshipped or were buried beneath its famous dome.

  The walking and the sights aren’t working.

  Valentina just can’t clear her mind.

  As the night starts to frost up and their feet begin to break down, they seek refuge in a touristy restaurant off Via della Fontanella di Borghese.

  Tom chooses octopus cooked in a light tomato sauce with pecorino cheese, followed by mezze maniche pasta with bacon.