by Toni Parks
“Yes, sorry. I can see from what I’ve not said, that you might feel that way. So I need to back track and hopefully I’ll remember everything she told me. Jessica has killed three people, who were abusing their partners. Well, act…”
“Stop right there,” exclaimed Eduardo, as his brown eyes staring at Emma had opened up to the size of saucers. “You’re telling me that Jessica has murdered three people? When?”
“Well, actually it’s five, but two were killed as part of the cover up,” she replied defensively. “And they were all before we met you. She hasn’t killed anyone since, honest,” she pleaded as if that would condone Jessica’s actions.
“But why? Why would a young woman do that? And more to the point how would a young woman do that and not show any signs of guilt? I mean we could have recruited her, had we known sooner!”
“Well, it was all a bit confusing to me too. When we were young, I lived with my aunt and Jess lived with Grannie, you know our other Mama. We did not know of each other after Mum and Dad died, what with all the warring going on with the Camorra clans. So our histories were always inextricably linked with each other and Naples and you all and I suppose fate has brought us to this,” she reasoned, extending her arms. “Anyway along the way I think Jess suffered sexual abuse. I don’t think she talked about it then, or since really, and although it had been banished to the back of her mind, certain words, objects or situations would trigger its memory. For instance, I think one of the words is ‘sweetie’. She does say it herself but I’m sure it has a deeper, more sinister meaning.”
“Sounds like she’s had a rough childhood. Men have died here for less than that. I can’t believe how composed and lucid she was when we met, knowing what events had already taken place. So where is she now?”
“She’s in prison, near Stirling, in Scotland. The crimes she is being charged with are too serious for bail so she’s banged up awaiting her trial. The Crown Office and Procurator Fiscal Service are preparing their case and then she’ll be put away for life.” Emma’s voice caught on the last words and not for the first time that day, tears rolled down her cheeks. “So that’s why I’m here,” she blubbed, “I can’t see my sister, who I’ve only known two or three months, locked away for life. She’s not really a monster, is she?”
Eduardo placed his arm around Emma’s shoulders as they moved up and down in sync with her sobs. “No from what we know of Jessica, she is anything but a monster. She had provocation and now she’s one of our own, she will be given all the support we can manage.”
“Well, that’s kind of you to say, but Secondigliano is a long way from Stirling, you know. Does your power stretch that far and wide?”
“Emma, you would be surprised what we can and cannot do. Not only do we have an active cell in Aberdeen but we also have the full power of SpiyWeb. And, as I told you on the phone, you have the added bonus of me calling personally on my Aberdeen colleagues, so I’ll be able to get a more accurate perspective then.”
“All those options do fill me with hope, but is hope going to be enough to free Jess and get her out of the country? I don’t know how we can release her mentally but if you can physically, then that’s a beginning. And I’ve brought money to pay, and I intend to get more. From here I’m going to travel to Zurich and take out additional sums from the safe deposit box.”
“Money to pay. Do not even consider the thought. Both your sister and you are family, and heroines in our eyes; we’ll have no talk of Zurich and money. And believe me when I say this, it will not be the first time we have sprung someone from an impossible situation.” This statement acted as a logical conclusion and Gabriella stood automatically and began clearing the cups off the table. Pernille offered consolation for Emma’s plight and reassurance that Eduardo’s word was his bond. She even suggested Emma’s uncle, Pietro, may be contacted to add further firepower. Emma thanked her but felt in her heart that firepower would not be the answer, it would be more, stealth and guile, which would win the day.
Gabriella spent the next day very much showing Emma the sights she had shown Emma’s mother all those years ago. And Emma, not being a sporty type and also carrying a secret, struggled with the more strenuous aspects of the expedition. On returning she treated herself to a long soak in the cavernous hot tub. Since Gabriella’s arrival, just before Emma and Jessica returned to Edinburgh, she had been staying at Fem Benessere in Casoria, a short distance north of Secondigliano. And so this became the obvious choice for Emma too. Mama’s residence had been the alternative but it did not boast a spa, a hot tub, a sauna or an indoor pool, however it did stretch to running water, which sometimes could be hot too.
As Emma soaked and studied her corrugated fingertips with chipped nail polish on the reverse, she became more at ease with her sister’s plight. ‘The problem has certainly been halved by talking about it,’ she thought. But there was one tinge of sadness lingering in the back of her mind. That of Gabriella, she had met her once before, fleetingly and now again for a little longer, but now Gabriella was leaving. It had been preplanned, her vacation was over and her bonds with Secondigliano had been refreshed and strengthened. The Smithsonian beckoned and life for her would return to its own equilibrium. But both Gabriella and Emma wished it were different. The short time they had spent together had proved enjoyable and although both had come from totally differing backgrounds and ended up with totally differing vocations, there was a certain magnetism and rapport between them.
So that evening was to be Gabriella’s last on Italian soil. She chose the restaurant and invited her close friends to dine. Mama was invited but graciously refused as expected, but the Sacerdote had confirmed his acceptance as too had Pietro, who by chance was working in Salerno, some 60 kilometres south of Naples. Eduardo had briefly explained the plight of Jessica and he wanted to reassure Emma that everything in their power would be done to expedite her release. And that usually meant that they would succeed. During the day Eduardo and Pernille had compared and discussed their workloads, thus enabling him to book tickets for Emma and himself on the Wednesday flight to Edinburgh, leaving at 11.25.
The three ladies enjoyed the company of their male guests and it was reciprocated. Emma began to appreciate that there were a lot more men out there who treated the opposite sex with respect and actually valued their company. Up to that point she had only presumed it was Barnham who was being attentive to her, but now her eyes had been truly opened. And with work and religious topics being banned from the table even the Sacerdote proved an interesting character having been released from his sanctimonious shackles. The subject matters ranged from childhood antics, through to relationships, successful and failed and inevitably ended with future hopes and desires. Each subject being helped along with generous amounts of alcohol, which Emma bypassed, and Gabriella knew she would regret in the morning for having not.
The Sacerdote refused to imbibe liberally on religious grounds. Emma pretended to join in but the one real secret she brought to the meal she took away again. She was desperate to tell someone her news but frankly felt that Mama should be the one to hear it first. So when Gabriella brought her back to the present by saying that she was now going back to her hotel room Emma was more than happy to accompany her. The Sacerdote and Pietro chaperoned the two ladies in their taxi whilst Eduardo and Pernille, recently defined as an item, took a second one back to Eduardo’s house; but not before stating that they would both be around to wave off Gabriella on her departure to the airport. Pietro told Emma that he would be available all the next day and hoped for the opportunity of a chat at some point. Emma happily agreed saying that she intended spending much of the day at Mama’s house so he could find her there. With that put to bed, everyone went their separate ways with much the same intention, and with the Sacerdote’s blessing ringing in their ears.
Tuesday proved very much a low-key day. Mama always enjoyed the simple life and bestowed the same calm on her frequent visitors. Emma arrived with freshly baked b
read hot out of the oven from the local panetteria. She hugged Mama by way of greeting and set to with filling the kettle and placing it on the gas ring. Mama fussed around Emma remonstrating that she should sit down and rest. Emma was tired from the travelling and late evenings but began to wonder whether her Mama had sixth sense. No one knew her secret; well no-one in Italy but Mama was acting as if it was a foregone conclusion. So Emma decided to grab the bull by the horns and her Mama by the wrists. She guided her to the table and both sat down, hands locked together. “Mama, there are things you should know about the reason for my visit,” began Emma. Mama smiled sweetly and complicitly as if the ensuing words would be irrelevant when spoken. Her wistful fairytale look was quite off-putting but Emma persevered nonetheless. “Mama as well as my good news, which it would appear you have already guessed, there is some not so good news too. Jessica is in prison on a charge of murder and the evidence is building against her.”
Mama’s grip tightened and her expression changed instantly as Emma registered that her bluntness had proved too sudden. She had an immediate panic that the shock could have a serious effect on Mama’s health. That was until Mama opened her mouth. “All will be well. I will speak to Pietro. Eduardo and him, they will sort out the mess in just the same way we have done for years. No granddaughter of mine is going to rot in prison. And you, my amorina, you should not be carrying such heavy weights in your pretty head. You, who are not used to that style of existence, where crime is woven into the very fabric of everyday living.”
Emma felt the tension being released in both her mind and her hands. Convinced that Mama was not a teller of fortunes as she was beginning to believe, she replied, “Thank you Mama, for your kind words of consolation. I too, am hopeful that Pietro and Eduardo will be able to weave their magic and extricate Jessica from her plight. And now I will make that coffee before the bread’s aroma drives me crazy. You stay and rest, I will arrange everything.”
‘Everything’ did not take long to prepare. Emma placed two cappuccinos on the table along with a plate of Prosciutto ham and cuts of the warm bread, laid across the breadboard. Emma sat back down and began, “Mama, the other reason ...”
Mama placed her hand over Emma’s and smiled, saying, “I already know the other reason, call it intuition but I knew the moment we embraced. I have not lived all these years, mostly amongst my fellow sex, with the men either going off fighting or working the fields, not to recognise the first blooms of pregnancy.”
“Mama,” cried Emma throwing her arms around her Mama’s neck. “Is there nothing gets past you? You should be working with Pietro, even now!”
“The less said about my past the better. I have had my moments, but everything is still in working order up there.” She said, tapping her finger gently to the side of her head.
Having all the news laid out before them enabled the two ladies to enjoy their breakfasts and the silence of their company. Surprisingly, Emma fussed more over Mama than vice versa and even more surprisingly Mama let her. They started their second coffee with the arrival of Pietro. He was actually staying at Mama’s house but had taken the opportunity of an early meet with Eduardo and Pernille. Jessica’s incarceration was on the agenda, amongst other things and Eduardo’s trip to Aberdeen now became a priority for that very reason. Once sat and facing a coffee himself, Mama relayed Emma’s news. Pietro appeared stunned at all the right moments and then surprised himself by actually being stunned by the announcement of her pregnancy. The Agosti clan took births in the family very seriously, whether the line was direct or not. So Emma had to box clever when it came to the father. She acted slightly coy as to the identity knowing that a police officer would not be welcome in this household, let alone one with the rank of Detective Inspector.
Emma lifted the atmosphere by slightly changing the subject and regaled how Mama had known of her condition intuitively. Pietro expressed no surprise whatsoever by saying, “That was the main reason we very rarely brought girlfriends home. We didn’t want the shock of Mama diagnosing and then the poor girl rushing off home in floods of tears.”
“Par pooch,” exclaimed Mama, as if my boys would have carried on in that way!” And that was that, no more was said on the subject.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Mama and Pernille matched DI Barbour’s tears of frustration, in buckets. For the second day running they were making goodbyes to their loved ones. The sooner those loved ones arrived in Edinburgh, and consequently in Aberdeen, the sooner they would be able to put their minds to attending and resolving the inherent problems. In the case of the latter city, it was also DI Barbour’s view, succinctly put.
The media conference commenced and concluded, with ambushes therein leaving raw scars on the DI’s back. Her DCI had originally voiced his intention of fielding at least 40% of the questions, but when the going got tough the top brass got going and he reneged and relegated over 90% to the DI. And so much for the PR guru, she had just stood, open mouthed like a fish out of water. The result being that DI Barbour was left in the spotlight, punch drunk and reeling. Not only had Police Scotland to assent to the fact that they were no nearer capturing the dunking man video killer, nor the murderer of the grotesque now pictured in the Press & Journal; albeit the photograph did have an oblong pixilated slash where the victim’s eyes should have been. But the killer blow from left field was the three bodies found by the docks, in what was widely perceived as a red-light area. And TV, radio, press and social media were in strength to witness the bombardment and consequent demolition of law and order. Anarchy was waiting in the wings whilst the city of Aberdeen accepted without protest, the first vestiges of life under siege.
And unfortunately for the detectives, Calum McLaughlin was not in a generous mood. First he had seen his best undercover asset exposed: exposed to the elements and social media and then he had lost a percentage of his prostitution protection, leaving a number of his vice girls to their own devices. To him it was very apparent what was happening, who this vendetta was between and how it would end up. So far, Hunter-Bell had been caught very much on the back foot but McLaughlin’s mind was now totally focused on the destruction of his archrival. He had instigated this warfare with the turning of Joey Donaldson and so he must finish it before his world came crashing down. And there was no way that he was prepared to leave the situation in the hands of an impotent police force. Calmly, he picked up his mobile, composed his mind and keyed in the pre-agreed text message to activate a clandestine meeting with other, smaller criminal gangs operating within the city. He knew his action would have an adverse effect on his slice of the cake but at least there would be a cake and his pleasure would be all the greater when slicing up Lucisano’s operations.
Obviously, the Lucisano family had not taken Calum’s previous hint, or was it merely that they did not understand the simple irony of quid pro quo. So to spell it out, for every occasion his assets were made dysfunctional he would come back with greater vengeance. And so it was. One of the nuggets of information handed over by Joey Donaldson before he took his last drink was going to prove Calum’s coup d’état. Sitting opposite his fellow criminal peers he laid out his plan.
“There are two buildings out on St Fittick’s Road; the road running along the side of Balnagask Golf Course. Discreet looking buildings, one is a single storey affair, not dissimilar in looks to a longhouse and the other, although attached is two storeys. The longhouse type building has North Sea Frozen across the front of it but inside it’s anything but that. Joey told me that it’s rigged up with the latest ventilation technology and differing kinds of fluorescent lights and sodium bulbs. In fact, for those of you with green fingers, just the right set up for growing our friend, Cannabis; and in particular, the Indica Marijuana strain. Call it what you will, but they are making it in some quantity! Now you might ask, ‘how come no one’s caught them out? What with the heat signature given off,’ well again Joey’s provided the answer. Francesco Lucisano, being a bright spark, designed the building with two
built-in deflections. One was a masking of the roof with space blanket foil to prevent the detection of a heat source and two, the channelling of that heat source to an innocuous outlet. Now, have any of you studied the science of Infrared imaging? No? Neither have I, but I read a little. So let me educate you; an Infrared scope detects electromagnetic radiation with longer wavelengths than visible light. For example, a human generally radiates wavelengths of around .01mm, when recorded without taking strenuous exercise. So that indicates to what a sophisticated level this equipment has journeyed. And this accuracy of calibration tells you that there are not too many ways of preventing it seeking you out.
“Now I’ve explained one concealment with the foil but clever Lucisano was not happy to stick at that. He wanted to be doubly sure. So he strengthened the ceiling structure and had solid glass fitted underneath the foil, which basically sandwiched the foil between the slate roof and the glass itself. Talk about hedging your bets. So he’s trapped the energy inside, more noticeable when using the high-pressure sodium bulbs, which bring on the flowering stage. But by designing a complicated venting system he sucked the hot air through ducts into the sizeable building next door. The pipes, again foil clad led into a rectangular chamber in the middle of a cavernous room with a circular chimney leading up through its two storeys and out into the atmosphere. These premises, trading for years as Farrah’s Family Wholesale Bakers are also owned by Lucisano. And where better to have a large rectangular heat source than in the oven of a bakery. Genius.
“So in one building we have the harvesting of cannabis on an industrial scale with its heat signature radiating out in plain sight through the chimney of the next door building. But, my friends, that’s just the half of it, because the said building housing the fake oven is a front for a series of sterile laboratory units. Here scientists and chemists busy themselves in their own little worlds of mass-producing narcotics. These travel to the floor above where they are cut with adulterants such as powdered milk, rat poison and even ground drywall. And then the opiates are broken down into saleable wrap quantities for the street market. It operates on a 24/7 basis, taking delivery of raw materials each morning. Sacks are unloaded containing flour with sealed packets of pure drugs nestling in their centres. It’s such a wheeze that it will be a shame to destroy it all.”
