The Rome Prophecy

by Jon Trace

The small chart makes fascinating reading.

  Suzanna and Little Suzie seem to be the two contemporary personalities, while Claudia and Cassandra – both classic Roman names – are the ‘legendary’ alters.

  Little Suzie alluded to the fact that there were many others.

  Are there really more? Questions stick like bugs on a wind-screen.

  Why do two of the personalities use the name Suzanna? Valentina thinks there’s a psychological reason – maybe a bridge to her real life. It could be that Suzanna is the name of someone who’s been kind to her, supported her through difficult times, or perhaps it’s someone she admired.

  Valentina has already made sure the Carabinieri’s records team has checked out the surname Grecoraci.

  They drew blanks.

  So too did the hospital’s own enquiries.

  No one with that name fitting Suzanna’s age and physical description has shown up on any official records anywhere across Italy. But to the best of Valentina’s knowledge, no one has run a check on Suzanna Fratelli. She makes a note to action the search – and also for Cassandra Fratelli and Claudia Fratelli.

  The sky is starting to cloud over and the warmth is disappearing from the patio. She heads back inside and leaves her food tray on a lopsided rack by the canteen door. She takes the stairs rather than the lift and thinks about calling Tom before she enters what she knows will be a dreadful meeting with Caesario.

  Predictably, Armando Caesario’s office is one of the grandest in the building. Occupying a south-facing corner position with enough floor space to double as a parade ground.

  The wooden floor is dark and polished and creaks as she walks over it. To her left is a seating area, marked by a large Indian rug full of deep reds and two chestnut-coloured leather settees. The rest of the room is dominated by a giant mahogany desk straight in front of her. The small man sitting behind it is backlit by a large sash window with a view across the city. Old hardback chairs covered in faded brown leather stand to attention to the front and flanks of the major’s desk. This is not a room where anyone is meant to feel at ease.

  ‘Sit!’ Caesario mumbles through his chins while he finishes writing.

  There’s a knock on the door behind Valentina.

  ‘Enter!’

  Even before Valentina turns her head, she knows who it is.

  Lieutenant Federico Assante walks noisily across the wood. Without speaking, he takes the chair at the end of the desk. The one nearest Caesario.

  The major downs his pen. He clasps his hands and looks up at them both. His face bears the expression of a disappointed father who’s gathered his wayward children for a scolding. ‘Captain Morassi – it’s been brought to my attention that you have without authorisation involved a civilian in a major criminal investigation and as a consequence probably compromised our enquiries.’

  Valentina gazes blankly at her superior officer. ‘I don’t believe anything has been compromised, sir. With respect, the civilian’s involvement advanced our enquiries rather than compromised them.’

  Caesario sighs and leans back in his big leather chair. ‘How so?’

  Valentina shoots Federico a withering look. ‘The man you are referring to is Tom Shaman. He worked with me on the serial murder case in Venice that you know of and he proved invaluable to our units there. If you wish, I’m sure Major Vito Carvalho will vouch for his integrity. My—’

  ‘Ex- Major Carvalho,’ interjects Caesario, ‘and to be honest, I don’t wish. Captain, I didn’t ask you for a character reference, I asked you to substantiate your claim that this man advanced our enquiries.’

  ‘Sir, Tom discovered the body. He happened to be with me when I visited the Ponte Fabricio with Louisa Verdetti, the clinical director of the Policlinico Umberto.’

  ‘Stop!’ Caesario raises his hand like a traffic cop. ‘Let me back up here. Lieutenant Assante, were you not the first officer I sent to the original crime scene in Cosmedin?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I was, sir.’

  ‘And as a local officer with local knowledge, did I not give you an express command to keep me fully briefed until this matter was cleared up?’

  ‘Yes, sir, you did, sir.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad we’re clear about that. So how is it, Lieutenant, that until this morning, you did not tell me anything about the expanded scale of the inquiry and the involvement of civilians and non-Carabinieri medics?’

  ‘I didn’t know, sir. Not until afterwards.’

  Valentina tries to jump in. ‘With respect, Major—’

  ‘Be quiet, Captain. Keeping your mouth shut is the best way you can show me respect. I’ll come back to your explanation in a moment.’

  Caesario angles his body towards Assante. ‘You were saying, Lieutenant – you didn’t know until afterwards … finish your excuse.’

  ‘Captain Morassi called me at home and explained that she had visited the clinic. She said she had spoken to both the doctor and the prisoner and consequently visited the area near Tiber Island where the body of a male was found. It was only when I arrived at the scene that I realised there was a relationship between the captain and the civilian who found the body.’

  The major again halts the conversation with his traffic cop hand. ‘Explain, Captain.’

  ‘Explain what, sir?’ She knows exactly what he means. And what’s going on. The sexist pig is dressing her down. Humiliating her. Showing her his station house is run by men – men who don’t take kindly to women being given positions of senior rank.

  Caesario puts his elbows on the desk and then leans forward on pale, chubby forearms. ‘Let’s start with your relationship with this man, Tom Shaman. Explain it to me.’

  Valentina feels Assante’s eyes on her. The disloyal son-ofa-bitch is enjoying every second of this. She swallows and stays calm. ‘Tom and I have a sexual relationship. A recent one. He is currently living with me.’

  Caesario can’t help but look smug. ‘I see. And …’

  ‘Is this a disciplinary inquiry, sir?’ Valentina puts her hands on the edge of his desk and pointedly leans towards him. ‘Because if it is, then I believe I should have been properly notified, and I haven’t been.’

  The major can barely believe her cheek.

  Valentina’s not done. ‘Major, I must also formally object to the manner in which you have encouraged Lieutenant Assante to report directly to you on an operational matter that you personally called me in on and asked me to take charge of.’

  Now it’s Caesario’s turn to try to control his anger. ‘Oh, must you?’

  Valentina stands. Her chair scrapes noisily across the wooden floor. ‘Sir, to be clear, I wish to put on record the fact that I believe your instructions undermined my position, and I feel I should inform you that I will be writing contemporaneous notes of this meeting and seeking representation.’

  ‘Sit down, Captain!’

  Valentina remains standing.

  ‘Sit down – that’s an order!’

  Valentina sits. She pulls the chair up under her legs and feels herself shake.

  ‘Assante, get out. Leave us alone.’

  The lieutenant rises, salutes and leaves without comment.

  The door at the far end of the room clicks shut. Caesario stares across his desk and draws a long breath. ‘What are you doing?’

  Valentina is fiddling nervously with her cell phone.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I forgot to mute my phone and there was a call coming in.’

  He can’t believe the girl. Insolent. Distracted. Unfocused. ‘Put it down! For God’s sake, woman, how unprofessional can you be?’

  Valentina all but drops the BlackBerry on the edge of his desk. ‘I’m not unprofessional, sir. Far from it.’

  Alone now, with the door shut, his anger boils over. ‘Not unprofessional? I’ll tell you what you are. You’re a joke, Morassi, that’s what you are. If the top brass weren’t under political pressure to have some skirts wearing senior rank, you’d be out doing traffic duty. Correct
ion, traffic duty is too important a job for women; you’d be filing reports.’

  ‘Sir!’

  ‘Don’t be so damned insolent, Captain. When a senior officer is talking, you sit and listen. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good.’ His voice becomes almost normal. ‘Look, I don’t know who you impressed or how you impressed them, but I didn’t want you here and I still don’t want you here. Your face is plastered across magazines, my press office is logjammed with requests to talk to you. You are a liability, Captain.’

  ‘Sir, it was the press office that insisted I did the Vanity Fair shoot. I assure you I have no desire to have cameras pointed at me.’

  ‘Enough!’ He drums his sausage fingers on the desk and grits his teeth. ‘Let’s be straight with each other – officer to officer. You and I both know that you have no future here. I need first-class officers, not political pin-up girls. You’re in the Carabinieri, not Berlusconi’s cabinet.’ He lets out another pained sigh. ‘Listen to me. I’m going to give you some advice. This is a good point for you to put in a transfer request. I’ll give you some time off until we get you posted elsewhere and you can spend it at home with your new lover.’ He smiles patronisingly at her. ‘How does that offer sound?’

  Valentina stares down at the big wooden desk. Caesario’s fat little fingers start drumming again, just centimetres from the cell phone he berated her for trying to turn off. She picks it up and turns it in her hands. ‘I think your offer sounds fine.’ She presses the touch screen on the phone and holds it up towards his face. Caesario’s voice rolls out from the phone: ‘If the top brass weren’t under political pressure to have some skirts wearing senior rank, you’d be out doing traffic duty.’

  Valentina hits pause and looks him in the eye. ‘I don’t think that’s the most damning part of the recording, sir, but I’m sure that even that bit is sufficient to end the career of a misogynistic bully like you.’ She turns the BlackBerry off and slips it inside her jacket.

  Caesario sits back in shock.

  He can’t believe what she’s done.

  A man would never have done that. A man would have taken his rollicking and done the decent thing. He can’t believe she’s been so sneaky, so cowardly, so duplicitous.

  Valentina’s voice is calm and deliberate. ‘Officer to officer, Major, let me be straight with you. I am not about to walk away from my position here, or this case. So – unless you want a copy of this recording to be the centre point not only of your own disciplinary inquiry but also of news reports from one end of Italy to the other, from this moment onwards you’ll afford me your total trust and support and allow me to do my job.’

  Caesario is still speechless.

  ‘I need an answer, Major.’

  He nods.

  Valentina stands. ‘And for the record, the phrase total trust includes me exercising my discretion as to whomever I wish to involve in this case.’

  He nods again.

  ‘Thank you, Major. Your support and confidence in me is greatly appreciated.’ She allows herself a small smile, and makes sure he sees it before she turns and heads for the door.

  45

  There are close to thirty busy desks in the open-plan office, which houses two serious crime squads. Federico Assante is sitting slap bang in the middle of all the action. He’s talking confidentially to colleagues around him, telling them of the impending demise of his captain.

  Phones are suddenly hung up and the chatter of the office vaporises. Valentina has emerged from Caesario’s office at the end of the corridor.

  Dead woman walking.

  The only noise that can be heard is her feet on the floor.

  From ten metres away her eyes lock in on Assante and she can see he’s struggling to even acknowledge that she’s there.

  She reaches his desk, calmly folds her arms and looks down at him. ‘Make sure you put all your files, memory sticks, actions and contacts on my desk within the next hour.’

  ‘Scusi?’ He swivels in his chair, looking around the room to show his audience his disbelief.

  ‘Stand when you’re addressing a senior officer.’

  He hesitates.

  Valentina leans across him and picks the phone up off his desk. ‘You want me to call Caesario and have him make you stand?’

  They both have the attention of the entire office. A distant phone rings, someone picks it up and immediately disconnects the caller. No one is going to miss this.

  Assante slowly gets to his feet and stretches like it’s something he was going to do anyway.

  She waits for him to finish.

  ‘You’re off the case.’

  Across the room there are gasps.

  ‘Get all your stuff together – logs, records, contacts, electronic files; anything that has relevance to what I’m working.’

  ‘You’re joking, right?’

  ‘I only joke with friends, Lieutenant, and you’ve made it very clear that’s not what you are.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  She laughs. ‘Oh, but you do. You thought that by undermining me you’d win favour with Caesario and further your career. You gambled and you lost.’ She shrugs like it’s of no concern. ‘I guess you played dirty because the stakes were high. So in your case, the price you pay is being dumped from this investigation by the female officer you sought to embarrass. Life is rough. Then again, if you were a woman in the Carabinieri, you’d already know that.’

  Applause breaks out from behind her. Valentina turns to see several women standing and clapping,

  She swivels back to Assante. ‘We’re done. I’m going out now and will contact you later with the name of the officer I want you to hand over to.’

  Valentina walks the rest of the room to the corridor amid a cacophony of wolf whistles and thunderous applause.

  46

  The video recordings make fascinating viewing.

  Hospital administrator Sylvio Valducci still isn’t convinced they prove the existence of dissociative identity disorder, but they’re certainly jaw-dropping enough to attract some substantial new grants. The bit where the patient seeks shelter under Verdetti’s desk is priceless. Pure theatre.

  Who knows, they could even be good enough to land some plum keynote speeches at top medical conferences around the globe.

  For him, of course, not Verdetti.

  The clinician remains a thorn in his side. He quite hoped she’d make a terrible mess of this case, then he’d have an excuse to discipline her.

  But it’s not working out like that.

  Even the way she acted with the police doesn’t warrant an official warning. At best she was being public-minded. At worst she was slow in notifying him of an instant demand of the Carabinieri. She’d have walked any disciplinary hearing on that one.

  Such a shame.

  He’d certainly have liked to take the wind out of her ambitious young sails and make his own life easier. The last thing any under-pressure administrator wants is a mouthy clinical director who is trying to do more and as a result spend more every damned year.

  Valducci puts the recordings back in their covers and stores them on his shelves.

  The distance from his office to Verdetti’s amounts to a lift ride and a short walk down a couple of corridors. He’s making it to flatter her. To throw her off-guard. He learned long ago that it’s politically smart to seize an opportunity to be nice to those you like the least. It allows you to manipulate them towards your own ends, especially when they’re tired and stressed.

  The eyes of a young nurse at the ward station almost pop out when he rounds the corner. In her fluster she stands up and knocks a plastic cup of water over her paperwork.

  ‘Wipe it! Wipe it!’ he barks. ‘And don’t let it get near the damned computer.’

  Eva Boscono quickly mops with tissues, while he leans on the top of the reception station and makes no effort to help her.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’ She tosses the l
ast of the Kleenex into the waste basket beneath the desk and rubs her wet hands together. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘I’m looking for Dr Verdetti. I just walked past her office and it’s in darkness.’

  ‘She left about an hour ago, sir.’ She glances down at a calendar on the desk top. ‘She’s at a funeral. I believe she will be back late this afternoon.’

  He grimaces. She never mentioned the funeral to him. Not that he doubts she’s properly booked the time – though he’ll check, of course. ‘Never mind. Tell her I came round. Get her to call my secretary and arrange to see me.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He starts to walk away and then has an idea. ‘The patient in room 116, how is she at the moment?’

  Eva scrabbles through a tray of damp paperwork. ‘I’ll just find her notes for you to see.’

  ‘I don’t want to see her notes,’ he snaps. ‘Just tell me how she is. Surely you know enough about those in your care to have an instant overview?’

  Eva reddens. ‘I’m told she slept well. This morning when I saw her she was subdued but not sedated. She complained of a headache about three hours ago and was given ibuprofen. An hour ago she was fine and was sitting out of bed, reading and drawing.’

  ‘Drawing? Drawing what?’

  The question throws her. ‘I don’t know. She likes to doodle; it seems to calm her.’

  ‘She had a pen?’

  ‘No. She has crayons to draw with, but there’s nothing sharp in her room when she’s alone. We’re careful about self-harming.’

  ‘Good. Take me to see her.’

  ‘Now, sir?’

  He looks exasperated. ‘When else? You want me to make an appointment and come back at a time that better suits you?’

  ‘No, sir.’ She scurries from behind her desk. ‘Please follow me.’

  The Carabinieri guard outside the door takes their names and then allows them in.

  Nurse Boscono closes the door and introduces her boss to Suzanna. ‘This is Signor Valducci. He is the administrator, the man in charge of the whole hospital.’

  He smiles at Suzanna, and then turns to the nurse. ‘You can leave us now. I’d like to be alone with the patient.’