The Burial Hour

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The Burial Hour Page 34

by Jeffery Deaver


  Spiro, Rossi and Rhyme looked at each other. Spiro said, "I'm not agreeing to any conditions of any kind."

  "Agreement is not an issue. What I just said is a statement of fact. This is hypothetical and I'll deny everything if asked." Without waiting for any response she said, "Abu Omar."

  Rhyme didn't get the reference but noted that Dante Spiro and Massimo Rossi both reacted. They shared a glance and a frown.

  Spiro said to Rhyme, "Si. An incident in Italy a few years ago. Abu Omar was the imam of Milan. He was abducted in an extraordinary rendition conducted by your CIA and our own security agency. He was taken to Egypt, where, he claims, he was tortured and interrogated. Prosecutors here brought charges against the CIA and our officers who conducted the operation. The incident, I've read, virtually closed down the CIA's Italian operation for a long time, and resulted in prison sentences, in absentia, against some of your senior agents."

  McKenzie said, "The Abu Omar case is typical of the two problems that intelligence services face overseas. First, sovereignty. They have no legal right to arrest or detain anyone on foreign soil, unless that government agrees. If foreign governments find out, there are serious repercussions--like the CIA station chief being indicted. The second problem is finding a suitable means of interrogation. Waterboarding, torture, enhanced interrogation, imprisonment without due process--that's not our policy anymore. And, frankly, that's not what America is. We need a humane way to extract information. And a more efficient way. Torture doesn't work. I've studied it."

  Begging the questions: How and where and against whom?

  Sachs now spoke. "So your AIS sets up fictions, like theater, to kidnap and interrogate subjects?"

  "You could say that." Hypothetically.

  Rhyme had a thought. "Ah, the amobarbital. I thought it was a sedative Stefan took for panic attacks. But you used it for its original purpose. Truth serum."

  "That's right, though in conjunction with other synthetic psychotropics we developed ourselves. Combining the drugs and specialized interviewing techniques, we can hit an eighty-five to ninety percent cooperation rate. The subject has virtually no will to deceive or withhold information." There was pride in her voice.

  But Dante Spiro said, "You say humane but these men were at risk!"

  "No. They were never in any danger."

  Sachs gave a faint laugh. "You know, the gallows were very shoddy."

  "Exactly. We designed them to fall apart before they'd do any damage. And in any event, an anonymous call would be made to the police reporting a crime and a victim held captive."

  "And Malek Dadi, the man killed outside Capodichino?" Rossi asked. "Ah, but he was killed coincidentally by robbers."

  "Stefan tried to save him. He was very upset that the man had died. He took it personally."

  Lifting his hands, palms up, Spiro said, "But one matter confuses me. The victims--"

  "The suspects, the terrorists," she corrected in a firm voice.

  "--the victims would know about the interrogation. They could tell someone and word would get out about your operation."

  Sachs said slowly, "Except they didn't. Maziq and Jabril didn't remember anything that happened. And that seemed genuine."

  "It was."

  "Of course," Rhyme said. Those in the room turned to him. "We assumed the electroconductive gel found at the first kidnapping site in Naples was from Stefan's treatments. But, no, you gave the victims shock treatment. To destroy their short-term memory."

  McKenzie nodded. "That's right. They might have fragments of memories, but those'd be like memories of a dream."

  Rhyme said, "But what happens to them afterward? They're still terrorists."

  "We monitor them. Hope they change their ways. If not, we have a preemptive talk with them. At worst, relocate them where they won't do any damage." She lifted her shoulders. "What in life is one hundred percent effective all the time? We're stopping terror attacks humanely. There'll be speed bumps along the way, but on the whole our project is working."

  Spiro regarded her with his narrow eyes. "Your operation...The fake kidnapping in New York, the real kidnappings here, the release of a psychotic patient, exotic drugs...So very much work. So very complicated."

  McKenzie didn't hesitate. She said evenly, "You could try to fly from here to Tuscany by balloon and, if the winds cooperated and with some luck, end up in the vicinity of Florence, after a day or so. Or you could get into a jet and be in the city, efficiently and quickly, whatever the conditions, in one hour. A balloon is a very simple way to travel. A jet much more complicated. But what's the most effective?"

  Rhyme was sure she had made this argument before--probably before a Senate or House finance committee.

  McKenzie continued, "I'll tell you my background...and the background of the director of our organization."

  Rossi said, "Intelligence officers usually come from the military or other branches of government. Academia sometimes."

  "Well, I was government service and he was army intelligence, but before that: I was a producer in Hollywood, working on indie films. He was an actor in college and worked on Broadway some. We have experience turning the implausible into the believable. And do you know what people buy into the most? The biggest fantasies. So outrageous that nobody thinks to question them. Hence, Stefan Merck, the psychotic kidnapper, composing waltzes to die by. How could he possibly be involved in espionage? And even if he told anyone, why, he'd be dismissed as crazy."

  Sachs said, "Still, even if nobody questioned your cover story, picking Stefan was risky--he was committed for kidnapping, assault and attempted murder."

  "Those are the bald facts," McKenzie said. "But it's more complicated than that. A few years ago, while Stefan was an outpatient at a facility in Philadelphia, he saw a male nurse abusing patients, some very disabled. The nurse was reported but the executives at the hospital did nothing about it, and he went on abusing women, but was just more careful.

  "Stefan found out where the man lived and broke in. He taped the man to a chair--that was the kidnapping charge--and put homemade earphones on the man. He hooked them to a sound generator and turned up the volume so high that it ruptured the man's eardrums. He's permanently deaf."

  "The attempted murder?"

  "Apparently if you play sound loud enough for a long-enough period of time, it can be fatal. Stefan's lawyers claimed that wasn't his intention. I'm sure it wasn't. To Stefan, being deaf is worse than dying. His psych evaluation led the judge to rule he wasn't fit for trial, and he was committed indefinitely."

  "How did you find him?" Spiro asked.

  "We wanted a functioning mental patient, with a history of schizophrenic behavior. We searched, okay, hacked medical records. Stefan seemed like a good possibility. The deal you were talking about, Lincoln? I told him if he helped us, I guaranteed he'd be moved to a nicer facility. He'd have access to music, the Internet. He'd get an electronic keyboard. He was starved for his music, for his collection of sounds. He'd be in Harmony if I'd do that, he said."

  Rhyme recalled that Stefan's doctor, the director of the mental facility, had said much the same.

  McKenzie said, "No, Stefan is unsettling but he's not dangerous. He's actually quite timid. Shy. He met a girl the other day. He was having an episode, so he went to downtown Naples. The noise, the chaos in the streets helps him. Calms him down. It's silence that's bad for him. Anyway, he met this girl. Her name was Lilly. He went with her to the Fontanelle Cemetery--an underground cavern here."

  Rossi and Spiro nodded, obviously familiar with it.

  She said, "An unstable person might have hurt her, assaulted her. But you know what he did? He secretly recorded her footsteps. Apparently he loved the sound her boots made in the cavern. After, he drove her home. That's the kind of 'danger' Stefan Merck represents. And, yes, the rifle shots? Only to scare you off."

  Sachs said, "But Garry Soames? He could have been convicted."

  "No. That wouldn't've happened. We hav
e absolute proof that Natalia Garelli assaulted Frieda. As soon as the operation was completed here--"

  Sachs shook her head with dawning awareness. "You have the goddamn CCTV video from the hotel across the street."

  McKenzie was nodding. "We hacked the security system and downloaded it, then overwrote their drive. It clearly showed Natalia committed the crime. I'll send it to the police tomorrow."

  The comment about the security tape reminded Rhyme of something. "And the videos Stefan made? You had him do that?"

  "No, no. His own idea, actually. We thought he might leave a noose and maybe a note to the press. But he thought the video would make the world think he was truly psychotic."

  "Why the waltz?" Spiro asked.

  "He loves them, for some reason. He's never told me why. Something about his parents, I think. This might be too tidy, but they weren't married when he was born. He was ten when they got married. I saw a picture of them dancing together. Stefan was there, watching them. She had problems too, drinking and prescription drugs--and serial affairs. She eventually killed herself. His father just vanished. disappeared. Maybe he associates waltzes with a happier time. Or a sad time. I don't know. He told me he found his mother's body in the family cellar."

  "She hanged herself?"

  "That's right." McKenzie shook her head. "What a terrible thing for a child to see."

  Explains a few things, Rhyme reflected. In this line of work you reject the obvious, and dig for unnecessary subtlety, at your peril.

  "He wouldn't say anything more. No reason for him to. We're close in some ways. Close enough so that he does whatever I ask him to. Well, whatever Euterpe tells him."

  Sachs said, "You're Euterpe. His muse."

  "That's what he calls me. When I said I could get him access to music and computers, he hugged me and said I was his muse. I'm his inspiration to get to Heaven--well, he calls it Harmony. Stefan has a very complex worldview. It's based on the medieval concept of the music of the spheres. And I'm helping him on his way to enlightenment--Harmony." McKenzie's face broke into a smile. "And you, Detective, are Artemis. The goddess of the hunt. We're half sisters, by the way."

  Ah, that was Stefan's meaning not long ago.

  Rhyme said, "Okay. The big question: How successful was AIS here?"

  "Very. We found out through our techniques that Ali Maziq's terrorist assignment was to travel to Vienna, collect explosives from a garage outside of town and detonate them in a shopping mall."

  Rhyme recalled that Henry Musgrave, the consulate general, had told them about a foiled attack.

  "The calls to Bolzano," Spiro said. "The Trenitalia trip, six hours to get him there."

  "Yes. He'd meet a German-speaking contact who would drive him into Austria. We didn't have a chance to interrogate Malek Dadi before he was killed. His target was in Milan. But you helped us there--finding the Post-it note with the address of the warehouse in Milan."

  Sachs shook her head. "Ah. Your quote 'legal liaison,' Prescott? He's with AIS too. Of course. Before Mike Hill's private plane landed at Linate, I gave Prescott the address of the warehouse. But he didn't drive me right there. He took me all over Milan, complaining about the traffic--but that was to give your team time to raid the place. I found a broken beer bottle on the driveway apron. Your people must've finished removing the explosives just before we got there."

  McKenzie said, "That's right. We recovered another half kilo of C4. We don't know what the target was, somewhere in Milan. But that's one attack that's not going to happen."

  Rossi asked, "And Khaled Jabril? The third terrorist you interrogated?"

  Her face tightened. "That was bad intel. Our asset in Libya gave us his name but he turned out to be innocent. We interrogated him thoroughly but he didn't know about any plots. Our techniques are very, very good. If there'd been anything, we would have found it." McKenzie looked from one to the other. "So, I've told you everything. Hypothetically, of course. Now I need your help. There's a problem."

  Rossi said, "I must say, Signorina, I have met many criminals in my day but no one who is as immune to contrizione...contrition, as you."

  She turned cool eyes toward him. "This is for everyone's own good. Your country, as well as ours."

  Spiro said, "Continue, per favore."

  "The terrorists here, Malik and Dadi, were recruited in Tripoli by a man named Ibrahim. We don't know much about him or his affiliation, maybe ISIS or al-Qaeda. Or other radicalized groups. Or he might be freelancing, working for anyone who pays him. Ibrahim's accomplice is in Naples, or nearby. He was the terrorists' contact here. He supplied the explosives and was the on-the-ground person planning the attacks in Vienna and Milan."

  Sachs said, "He's the man Ali Maziq had dinner with before he was kidnapped near D'Abruzzo."

  "Exactly. Under interrogation Maziq said that his name was Gianni. A code name, of course. But he didn't have any more information."

  Rhyme recalled that Beatrice had found samples of Neapolitan soil--rich with volcanic trace--in the warehouse. It would have come from this man. He mentioned this now.

  "Yes, Gianni would be the one who left the explosives in Vienna and in Milan then returned here. Now, the point of our operation wasn't just to stop the attacks; it was also to learn Ibrahim's real identity and address in Tripoli. Finding Gianni is our only hope. But we have no more leads. Will you help me?"

  And in her eyes, true, there was not a wisp of contrition. It seemed that she had hardly heard of--and certainly didn't care about--the case against her that had just been laid out.

  Spiro and Rossi shared a glance. Then the prosecutor turned. "And what, Capitano Rhyme, is your thinking on this matter?"

  Monday, September 27

  VII

  The Sound of Sense

  Chapter 58

  At 9 a.m., much of the team was assembled once more in the situation room, the basement of the Questura.

  Rhyme, Sachs and Dante Spiro, along with Thom, of course, ever-present Thom. Ercole Benelli was in the building, but elsewhere at the moment. Massimo Rossi had ordered him to bundle up all of the physical evidence in the Composer case, now that it was more or less closed, and log it into the Questura's evidence room.

  Rossi himself would join them soon. He was in his office upstairs with fellow inspector Laura Martelli, preparing the documentation to have Garry Soames officially released, verifying the evidence and interviewing Natalia, her boyfriend and others who'd been at the party. Garry had been released from prison but was still being held in a minimum-security facility in downtown Naples, pending the magistrate's signature.

  Stefan was in a holding cell, too, but Charlotte McKenzie was present. No longer saddled with her fake role as a diplo, she was wearing black slacks, a dark blouse and a supple leather jacket. She was still grandmotherly--but she was a grandmother who might practice tae kwon do and enjoy white-water rafting, if not big-game hunting.

  A uniformed officer wearing a shiny white belt and holster stood, nearly at attention, outside the door with orders not to let her leave the room.

  Before he'd left, Rossi had said to him sternly: "Qualcuno la deve accompagnare alla toilette," which was pretty clear, even in Italian.

  Though Ercole had taken the evidence to storage, the charts were still in place, on the easels surrounding them, and Sachs had created a new one--about their prey, Gianni, the terrorist Ibrahim's accomplice.

  Gianni (cover name)

  --Believed to be in Naples area.

  --Associate of Ibrahim, who is presently believed to be in Libya, mastermind of terror plots in Vienna and Milan.

  --White, though dark-complexioned.

  --Italian.

  --Described as "surly."

  --Large build.

  --No known distinguishings.

  --Curly dark hair.

  --Smoker.

  --Knowledge of and access to explosives.

  With such a sparse description and no helpful physical evidence--and with Ali Ma
ziq unable to provide details, after the drugging and electroconvulsive treatment--Rhyme, Spiro and Sachs decided that the best way to track him was through phone calls made to and from the mobile of the refugee he'd run: Ali Maziq.

  Both the Postal Police and the domestic Italian spy agency had spent the night establishing calling patterns to and from the phones. They could identify Gianni's phone, from which he'd sent and received calls to and from Maziq, and learned that Gianni had also frequently called and received calls from a landline--a cafe in Tripoli. It was undoubtedly the phone Ibrahim was using, not a mobile, for security's sake.

  Gianni's phone, however, was now dead; he'd have a new one. And it was this new mobile they needed to find, so they could triangulate and track it--or at least tap the line and see if he gave away his location or more about his identity in conversation.

  Massimo Rossi returned to the office and regarded the occupants, debating a strategy to discover Gianni's new number. Spiro explained the situation.

  Rossi said, "A landline, hm. Clever of him. In no small part because there has always been antagonism between Italy and Libya--we occupied them, you know, as a colony. And now our government is angered by their approach to the immigrant crisis--which is no approach at all. No one in Tripoli or Tobruk will cooperate with us."

  Dante Spiro said, "I must say I can think of a solution."

  Everyone in the room turned his way.

  He added, "The only difficulty is that it is in a small way illegal. A prosecutor could hardly suggest it."

  "Well, why don't you tell us," Rhyme suggested, "hypothetically?"

  New York has been called the City That Never Sleeps, though in fact that motto applies only to a few isolated establishments in Manhattan, where expensive liquor licenses and early work schedules keep the place pretty well shut down in the wee hours.

  Contrast that with a very different burg, a small town outside Washington, DC, where thousands labor constantly in a massive complex of buildings, day and night, no holidays, no weekends off.

  It was to one of those workers, a young man named Daniel Garrison, that Charlotte McKenzie had placed a call a half hour before, at Dante Spiro's coy suggestion.

 

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