Hunted

by Monty Marsden

  “You see, I shouldn’t be the one saying this… but feeling empathy for any of those personalities can confuse you and lead you astray, even if it’s understandable to feel pity or be intrigued. They are not people, like Riondino says, they’re just personalities. There is ultimately only one person and he is the killer. It’s Riondino. And he should be stopped. Don’t forget that, Claps.”

  No, he wouldn’t forget it. “We’ll do our best to catch him, Professor.”

  A long silence.

  “Tell me about Julia – why aren’t you sure that she is innocent?”

  “I won’t say anything for now – you’ll find out by yourself by listening to the other files. We’ll talk after that, if you want.”

  *

  The result was incredible – what Riondino was looking at in the mirror was very different from his previous look. He looked like a man in his fifties, maybe fifty-five, with grey hair and blue eyes. His wrinkles looked natural, his face was round and his lips fleshy. Nobody would have recognised Riondino like that.

  “If you had a moustache, the result would have been even better.”

  “There is no time to grow facial hair, Actor. You did an excellent job anyway.”

  “Yeah, I was inspired by Willy Loman from Death of a Salesman – I love that character.”

  Riondino leaned over towards the mirror to peer closer and see if the make-up was obvious. “Great job,” he repeated eventually. “It’s almost time to go out.”

  *

  “There are two people who would like to talk to you regarding Riondino.” Maiezza was in Sensi’s office. “They say that it could be important.”

  “What are we waiting for? Let them in,” Sensi replied.

  The two sat in front of Sensi’s desk. They were both in their sixties, they were wearing expensive clothes and one of them was holding a leather folder which contained some documents.

  “We’ve met before, but I don’t think you’ll remember…”

  “No, but your face looks familiar.”

  “I’m Aurelio Restelli, president of the Society of Financial Intermediaries which Giacomo Riondino worked for. The person next to me is Mr Riva, a lawyer who works for our company.”

  Sensi remembered – he had heard that man’s witness statement back in the day, when Riondino was arrested. Restelli had almost passed out when he learned that one of his most skilled and experienced employees was a murderer.

  “During the twelve years that he worked for us, Giacomo Riondino worked on more than fifteen hundred contracts. He has dealt with national and international investment funds, occupational pensions, insurance, asset management… an average total income of fifty million Euros. After the arrest, all of his clients were taken care of by other colleagues. The society had to reassure all of the clients who had had financial dealings with Riondino over the years. We were pretty successful with all that – I think that we lost only three clients eventually, but we realised that something was wrong financially. It took us three weeks to understand everything and get a good idea of what had happened. Riondino had embezzled funds over the years and four million Euros were missing.”

  “Four million, three hundred and twenty thousand, five hundred and sixty-two Euros, to be precise,” the lawyer added.

  Sensi put on his glasses and stared into Restelli’s eyes, in shock. “Are you saying that Riondino stole that money from the company?”

  “Over the years, a little at a time. Only part of the money belonged to the company – the majority of the money was stolen from clients’ investments. He used an extremely good technique by drawing on the currency, stock market fluctuations, tax premium to IPOs and reinvestment of profits. The numbers looked fine and always passed yearly reviews until we realised that there was something wrong.”

  “And you never sued him for this?”

  “No, we chose not to. Would you like to explain the reason?” he said, turning to the lawyer.

  “You see…” Mr Riva began to explain. “Any company like the one that I’m privileged to work for needs its clients to fully trust it. Trust is the most important value even before efficiency. The whole company would collapse if there was no trust from the clients. Riondino obviously committed atrocious crimes, but none of these were related to finance – and yet, clients had begun to lose faith in the company. Can you imagine what would have happened to the company if the clients knew it had lost four million Euros by misusing the their funds? The whole company would have collapsed in a matter of weeks.”

  “What Riondino did was illegal and it had to be reported to the police. Some of your clients were scammed without knowing.”

  “None of our clients have been adversely affected financially,” the lawyer said with a confident smile. “The company has reimbursed them whatever was missing to the last penny.”

  “It was expensive but the company is still healthy and I’m sure that we’ll be back on track again soon,” Restelli said. “We couldn’t see any other solution.”

  Sensi was immersed in his thoughts – all of this information was extremely helpful and it opened up new possibilities. “This means that Riondino has four million Euros hidden somewhere…”

  “We thought that we must report what had happened now…” the lawyer said. “The fraud is only a secondary crime now but we figured that Riondino will be easier to track down with that much money. If you manage to get the money back for us as well, then that would be great…”

  “What we would like to ask you though,” Restelli said, “is to keep the whole thing confidential for the sake of our company, for the reasons that we just mentioned.”

  The reputation of the financial company was currently the very last thing on Sensi’s mind. “Do you think that we’re so stupid as to tell the world something that could lead us to Riondino? We don’t want him to know that we know.” he said bitterly. “The news will be secret until we catch him.”

  “And after that?”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  “We are confident that we can trust you.”

  “This is not a deal,” Sensi said impatiently. “You are now obliged – as I repeat, obliged – to tell us all that you know. If not, you will be accused of being an accomplice. Having said that,” he added, a little more gently, “we’ll do our best.”

  Restelli nodded to the lawyer, who in turn laid his leather briefcase on the desk. “We have all of the documentation here – our notebooks, our analyses and information on the money that has gone missing… we did our best to track it down. As I said, Riondino was extremely good at scamming and we lost track of where the money went to at some point. I suppose the police and the court are better able to track everything down. We’re confident that you can help us.”

  *

  “Greta! I thought that you would never call me again, after our conversation yesterday.” Montanari’s voice sounded incredulous on the phone. “Did you watch the show? It was amazing!”

  It had been Greta who made the call, but she still had no intention of being nice to Montanari. “It was awful. You might have had a large audience, but hardly anything said was useful or even close to the truth. It was a rubbish show in terms of journalistic value.”

  “We drew on what we know, what has been made public.” Montanari was beginning to lose his patience. “You say that it was an awful show – well, if you had come over to tell us what you know, maybe it would have been less awful.” A few moments of silence, then Montanari sounded gentler again. “I received some data about our audience this morning and we had an incredible share – that’s what matters, after all.”

  “Sure, the audience are the most important thing. You know, sometimes I think that being an unpopular blog writer is still a lot better than anything else.”

  “That’s bullshit, Greta. You know it is. Without the audience, we wouldn’t have any advertisements and we couldn’t make anything happen. And tell me – what kind of journalist enjoys not having an audience, people who follow
what they say? You want to keep writing for a few hundred losers who believe anything that they read on the Internet, a bunch of people who believe in fairy tales. If that’s what you want, okay… but why did you call me then?”

  “I agree, maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

  Montanari remained silent for a while, then he carried on talking calmly. “You asked me this question yesterday. Now it’s my turn – what do you want from me, Greta? Why did you call?”

  This time, Greta hesitated before replying. “I may or may not have a story to tell… the true story of an event that has attracted the attention of the media.”

  “About Riondino?”

  “There has been a lot of talking around and about him, and most of the information is wrong. I may or may not know what really happened.”

  “About Riondino?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll be on TV tonight, Greta, if you let me write a last minute contract. It will be a good contract, trust me.”

  “You don’t get it. I don’t want to tell the story now. I don’t want to be the centre of attention. I already have been for way too long.”

  “I thought…”

  “Listen to me,” Greta interrupted him abruptly. “You were right – I have always been the type of person who wants to be involved in the news and I’m itching to feel alive again. My pseudonym was only a way to forget, a way to pretend that I could still survive.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about!”

  “There’s something that you didn’t get right, however – one can change. I did change. I don’t want to be part of a system that doesn’t take into account people’s dignity or that interferes with the work of the police. I want to be a real journalist, one of those who only gives true information. A journalist who talks about real stories. Who talks about their protagonists. Who lets people understand everything.” A pause. “I will tell Riondino’s story only when everything is over. Is that a deal?”

  Greta was certain that it wasn’t what Montanari wanted, but at the same time she was sure that he was already thinking about how popular a show, where she told Riondino’s story once the police work was over, would be.

  “What if it’s never going to be over? What if they don’t find him?”

  “You mean if he manages to run away? In a way, that will be the end of the story. I will tell what I know in that case, but I want freedom on how to lead the show. Is that a deal?”

  Montanari didn’t think about it for a second longer. “That’s great. We’ll have a contract by tomorrow. Welcome back, Greta.”

  After she hung up, Greta decided to call another number. This time, Claps answered the call.

  18

  Riondino walked out of his hideaway. Like the day before, he had listened out for any neighbours before opening the front door – he wanted to make sure that nobody in the building would see him. The sky was cloudy and the air damp and polluted from the traffic, but there was no rain. Riondino couldn’t use an umbrella to hide under this time. He walked confidently – not too fast, not too slow, and he affected a slight limp.

  “Are we going to town, Jack?”

  “Yes, Fox. It will be easier to find what we need. There’s a Western Union branch there, we’ll need that to transfer the money abroad.”

  Riondino’s hideaway was on a road named after one of the Roman kings – it was in the city centre, but still fairly hidden and isolated. Soon, he would have to walk through crowded streets, with lots of people and heavy traffic. He felt more nervous than he had the last time he had gone out. After a few steps, he stopped in front of a shop window, to check his reflection and make sure that he had done a good job with his make-up. He looked like a completely different person to the one the police were after. Riondino walked towards one of the main streets which lead to the heart of the city. The pavement was crowded with people and the road was full of cars. He tried his best not to look furtive, whilst at the same time trying to establish if anybody was paying attention to him.

  A few minutes later, he finally found what he was looking for – an optician and photographer. The shop was small, there was only one glass display – the woman inside welcomed Riondino with a smile.

  “I need some passport sized photos. How long does it take?”

  “We can do those straight away, you’ll have them in a few minutes.”

  “I would need a copy in digital form as well, for some documents that I have to send online, please.”

  “We can do that too, for a little extra charge. Come in here.”

  The woman was young and pretty, she was wearing a pair of boots and a skirt. She let Riondino sit on a stool and she moved closer to help him to pose. She smelled good. She touched Riondino’s chin to tilt his head slightly for the photo – her fingers were thin and her nails were polished red. Her touch was soft. Riondino felt something waking up inside him… he closed his eyes for a moment.

  “No, you have to relax your expression a little.” The woman was behind the camera, ready to take the photo. “You’ll look scary if you’re that tense.” She smiled.

  She had a beautiful smile – her teeth were white and perfectly straight.

  “There you go, that’s better. Done. Let me check the digital version to see if it’s a good photo. Give me your email address, so I can send you a copy.”

  “I have a USB stick, you can copy it onto there.” His voice sounded hoarse, unusually rough, as he handed the USB stick over to the girl.

  Riondino looked around – there was a small back door at the far end of the shop. It had to be a stockroom, or some kind of back room anyway. He moved his eyes back to the girl, he noticed her graceful movements, her low-cut top; her hips; the parts of her legs which weren’t covered by the skirt.

  “Do you work on your own here?” The hoarse voice, again.

  “No, but my manager was involved in a road accident with his moped and he sprained his ankle. He’ll be back in a few days.”

  “Will you be here if I need more passport sized photos?”

  “Sure, I can make as many copies as you want. Here’s your USB stick.”

  Riondino walked out of the shop – he was once again surprised by the damp, polluted air. He felt a little confused – he moved forward, forgetting to pretend that he was limping.

  “For fuck’s sake, Hannibal… not now…”

  “I want her.”

  “We have some important work to do first. It’s for our own safety, to keep us all safe once and for all.”

  “I want her, Jack. Did you smell her scent? It was coming straight from her thighs. It would be so easy… there’s a back door in the shop. We could turn up a little before closing time.”

  “Not now, not now!”

  “Are you sure that you can stop me like that?”

  “Fuck – Hannibal, think. We have to get our money back, get hold of some new ID documents and then run away from here for good. If anything goes wrong before that happens…”

  “I want that girl, and I also want you know who…”

  “I promise you that you’ll have both of them, but for now listen to me. The photos that we took a minute ago are for the new ID documents. We will have them in a few days and we’ll need them to get our money back. We’ll be able to move around more freely after that. You’ve waited seven years, Hannibal, what are a few extra days compared to that?”

  “Tell me, did you smell her sweet scent?”

  “Hannibal…”

  “Sweet, sweet like blood. Like pussy.”

  “Go away, Hannibal. Just a few more days.”

  *

  Sensi was still excited about the information from Restelli. He gave all of the documents to the magistrate and then went back into his office. Unexpectedly, Claps was standing there, waiting for him.

  He had bags under his eyes, but he still gave Sensi an intense, decisive look. “Today is a new day,” he said. “Tell me how… I can be of use.”

  There was no need to add any
thing else. Sensi nodded and let him sit down in front of his desk. He related all that he had heard from Restelli and his lawyer, without omitting anything.

  “We’re so close to finding him, Claps.” Sensi added. “We have identified the area he’s hiding away in and we are keeping it under surveillance. We hope that he doesn’t choose to shut himself in his hideout forever. Now we know why Riondino has been dying to run away from the rehabilitation centre. There is not one reason, there are four million reasons.”

  “Do you think that you’ll be able to… find the money?”

  “It’s not going to be easy but we have all the means to be able to find it. Technology will help us a lot with that. If we don’t find him before then, we’ll definitely catch him as soon as we find the money. The circle is getting tighter around him now.”

  “Maybe you don’t need me, after all.”

  Sensi smiled, his face looked relaxed, almost dreamy. “I never said that; he’s not back in prison yet.” Sensi then wiped the smile off his face and looked into Claps’ eyes.

  “Help me to spot the son of a bitch. The area where he’s hiding is being monitored twenty-four seven, but that’s not enough. The area is quite large and even if the surveillance is fairly tight, it is possible that he might sneak through it effortlessly. We’re close to getting him, that’s true, but we still haven’t found him. We have to be quick, or he’ll find the money and perhaps he’ll use it to move abroad.” Sensi leant over towards Claps. “You know how you were mentioning the possibility of reconstructing Riondino’s personalities before he was captured… do you think you can do that for me?”

  “I… I will,” Claps said. Julia… she dreamed of getting out of the house…. Had she ever done that?

  “If you need any help, feel free to ask. Take whoever you want. There’s something else that I’d like you to give priority to, please.” Sensi paused for a moment and then he carried on talking. “As you know, Riondino has eight friends on Facebook who live in Milan. The Internet data has revealed that he was the one who added them as friends online. Why did he choose them? Why them in particular?”