Hunted
Page 18
“What other topics would you talk about?”
“Cinema… actors… fashion… travels… or simply the weather. A bit of everything.”
“Did he ever ask you to do a favour for him… anything at all?”
“No, never.”
“Did he ever ask about your job and your own life?”
“Not much – as I said, it was always varied.”
“Did he send you a friend request on Facebook?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Did he tell you why he did?”
“He had found a post that I had written – he commented on it and then sent a friend request.”
“What was the post about?”
“It was a photo of Rupert Everett, the actor,” he said almost reluctantly.
“Do you live alone, Mr Reggi?” Greta asked – she had remained silent until now.
“Yes.”
“Are you in a relationship?”
“I’m seeing somebody, but we each live in our own place.”
“A girlfriend?”
Reggi hesitated a little. “A boyfriend,” he said eventually. “It’s not a crime, is it?” he asked with a hint of arrogance.
Claps gave Greta a slight nod; he wanted to indicate that she should let him talk. “Of course not.”
Reggi had begun to act nervously. “Pornographic material? Illegal trading online? Is that what he is accused of?”
Claps looked at him in silence for a few seconds. “That’s an interesting… question. Has he ever offered to send some of that material to you?”
Reggi remained stubbornly silent.
“You have nothing to worry about… if you collaborate, that is.”
“He asked me for some photos. Of myself.”
“What type of photos?”
“Isn’t that obvious? Of me.”
“Did you show him?”
“Yes.”
“Did he send you any of him?”
Reggi nodded. “Even though I’m pretty sure that it wasn’t him in the photos – he must have taken them from the Internet. It didn’t matter anyway… it was only a game.”
“Was it… cyber-sex?”
“As I said, it was only a game. Only now and then.”
Claps paused a little, thoughtfully.
“Did he ever ask you to meet up? Especially recently?”
“No… as I said it was only an online thing and that’s the way I wanted it to be.”
“Did he ever mention meeting up as a hypothetical possibility in the future?”
“No.”
“Does he know your home address?”
“He never asked… and even if he did, I would never have given it to him. The Internet world is different to real life.”
“Does he know the restaurant where you work?”
“It’s on my Facebook page – everybody knows it.”
“One more thing – did he ever tell you whereabouts in Milan he lives?”
“Milan? He has always said that he lives in Florence.”
“Has he ever mentioned a flat in Milan?”
“No, never.”
*
Greta and Claps were going back down to the ground floor in the lift. Greta decided to ask Claps what he thought about his conversation with Reggi.
“He was chatting to the… Fox… not to Jack.”
“I wouldn’t think that he was planning to get anything from him. Anything related to his escape, I mean.”
“No, he just wanted a little bit of fun… and somebody to talk to. That’s something that people who are deprived of their freedom always miss.”
“This conversation wasn’t that useful, was it?”
“No, but we should keep in mind that he knows where to find Reggi, if he ever wants to.”
“What about the restaurant? Will you ask Sensi to monitor it?”
“Yes,” Claps lied. He wouldn’t need anything like that, because Riondino had been penned in.
The air outside was very damp. Greta huddled in her coat. The area under surveillance comprised nine buildings and two hundred and sixty flats. There were no warehouses, but each building had cellars and terraces. Maiezza had gone to talk to the caretakers who worked in two of the nine buildings within the crucial area; the information that he had received had allowed him to tick them off as possible sites for Riondino’s hideout.
There were two hundred and forty-three other flats to check now, distributed among a few buildings.
“Twenty-one flats are inhabited by immigrants, or at least that’s what it seems, judging from their names on the telecom buttons. We’re trying to understand how many flats are inhabited by their owners, how many are being let and how many are empty.” Maiezza observed. “It might be useful for us to know, unless he decides to stay hidden away like a rat in the cellar.”
“Do you think that the son of a bitch has rented a flat for himself?” Sensi asked, almost ironically.
“He might have done so over the Internet – it’s not that difficult.”
Sensi was a bit sceptical – he was wondering whether anyone could have rented a flat from a rehabilitation centre.
It might have been more likely that he had occupied someone else’s flat while it had been left empty? Maybe the owner had naively told him about the empty flat during one of his online chats? Or maybe he had murdered the inhabitants?
Sensi sighed noisily. The truth was that Riondino could have been in any of those three hundred flats and they didn’t even know which building he was in.
“Whether or not he rented the flat, he’s hiding there – let’s go and find him, shall we?” Maiezza asked decisively.
“Patience. We have to be patient. Riondino can’t escape. If he tries to go out, we’ll be onto him. In the meantime, let’s try to learn more about the flats that have been rented out – how many there are, whether the identity of the tenants is credible and when the letting contracts start. We will have to dig out the names of each and every single person that lives in the buildings – we have to check whether one of them is a relative, a friend or an old colleague of that bastard.”
“We’ve been monitoring all exits for hours now. We’ve stopped more than twenty people for checks.” Maiezza sounded impatient. “Everyone in the whole area probably knows that we’re looking for someone.”
“He’s hiding away – he can’t have noticed anything.”
“With all respect, we know that he’s there – why are we waiting to go and get him?”
Sensi took off his glasses and glared at Maiezza. “There are seven buildings, with more than five hundred people overall. Do you know what this means? What you’re suggesting is something similar to a military raid. Let’s at least wait for the next twenty-four hours.”
*
Claps had slept a deep, dark sleep. No thoughts, nothing to remember, nothing to find out.
No need to demonstrate how good and determined he was. The perfect condition. Nothing at all.
Now, though, he was awake…
He stumbled sleepily to the bathroom – the thoughts had begun to crowd his mind again, as they did every day. He opened the medicine cabinet.
Greta… he had agreed with her that they would go and speak to at least one more of Riondino’s Facebook friends.
The anxiolytic bottle was on the first row.
The second visit in the morning – before Claps had given in to tiredness – had been useless. All that Claps had found out is that different personalities had been chatting on the Internet at different moments in time. This time, the Earl had talked to a ‘friend’ who was as passionate about gambling and cars as he was.
Facebook… Riondino’s chance – or even, his illusion – of freedom in a virtual world. An avatar to escape his condition, but also to plan his real escape by using the naive, unfortunate figure of Matteo Contri. He had to insist – maybe he would have found something talking to the other people…
Claps rolled a pill in his hand.
Was that just a good excuse to give up?
He rang Greta’s number on the phone. No, excuses are the nails that build the house of failure. “Let’s meet at six, let’s ta… talk to Antonio Greco this time.”
He gave her the address, then he ended the call and finally swallowed the pill.
*
“Will it work?”
“It will be a hell of a trick, Jack.”
“It has to work.”
“We’ll go into action at seven – it will be dark by then but there will be quite a lot of people in the streets. We’ll be away in a few minutes and we can go to our friend’s without any trouble.”
“Do you think we should warn him first?”
“No – absolute silence. Let’s surprise him.”
23
This time Greta had arrived at the meeting place before Claps. As Claps walked towards her, he realised that he was still struggling to walk – his steps were heavy. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t slept much or maybe the pills that he had taken had been too strong for him… or perhaps it was just the burden of his anguish, which he carried around with him all the time.
“He lives here… on the fourth floor… Antonio Greco is the next contact who shares the most qualities with Matteo Contri.” Claps told Greta before going upstairs. “He hasn’t been online since Riondino’s escape, and he didn’t turn up to work the following day. Sensi thought that he was helping Riondino to hide at his place, so he sent out a s… a squad while we were in Florence to talk to Professor Reti.”
He didn’t mention the fact that Sensi had identified the specific area where Riondino was hiding and that the place was being constantly monitored at the moment. And that they could catch him any time now.
Claps felt a little guilty and somewhat ungrateful for being so reticent. Greta wasn’t fully aware of it, but she was helping him a lot to not pull out, to stick to his mission. He was trying to justify himself by thinking that telling her the whole truth wouldn’t have been good for her, considering the plans that she had in her mind. He would tell her everything when Riondino was back in jail.
Antonio Greco was a tall, chubby man; however, he seemed somewhat fragile, his eyes and his movements hinted at a lack of confidence. Greco led the two to his living room, which was filled with run of the mill furniture. He had the same anxious attitude as the other two people that Claps and Greta had met already.
“Liberty?” Greco shook his head. It doesn’t ring a bell. I have more than a thousand contacts online, I don’t remember him.”
“You were friends, though,” Greta broke in. “His nickname is easy to remember.”
Greco raised his hand a little. “Some people send me friend requests but they don’t really talk to me at all – they just follow my posts and look at my photos.”
“So you don’t remember ever chatting to him online?” Claps asked.
“No, I’m pretty sure I haven’t. Maybe I greeted him to welcome him among my online friends… something like that.”
“Are you sure? Please remember that this is a police investigation.” Claps said.
“I’m positive,” Greco looked away. “Like your colleague said, that nickname is easy to remember and I would know if I had talked to him.”
“So you seem to have a large audience online, Mr Greco. How come? Is there something in particular that you… do… that raises people’s interest in you?”
“I’m sure that you found out before coming here.”
“Tell us anyway.”
“I enjoy partying – I go to events, clubs, themed parties…”
“Like what?” Greta asked.
“Burlesque… body painting… artistic performances.”
“Thanks for your collaboration… Mr Greco… that’s all for now.”
*
“That’s another one to tick off our list,” Greta commented as soon as they walked out of the building. “I’m beginning to think that Riondino’s online friends were only a way for him to compensate for his isolation, a way to feel free.”
Claps remained silent – he was observing his own steps as they walked towards his car.
“Do you think that’s possible?” Greta asked.
“Maybe…” Claps raised his eyes. “You didn’t notice… did you?”
“Notice what?”
“He didn’t ask.”
Greta froze, she stared into Claps’ eyes questioningly.
“Greco did not ask why Liberty was being monitored by the police,” Claps said. “The other two have asked. It’s a natural question… anybody would want to know.”
Greta felt the chills run up her back. “Unless…”
“Unless he knows already.”
*
“It’s time to go, Jack.”
Riondino glanced down the road one last time – early in the morning, the car that had been parked outside the building had gone and had been replaced by another one. How long did each shift last? Eight hours? Eight hours spent waiting for him to walk out.
Very well – a few more minutes, and he would make them happy.
A deep breath.
He stepped away from the window – he noticed that he was limping slightly.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. The Actor had done a very good job again. The hair was scruffy and blonde, his face was even rounder. A pair of large glasses was hiding the rest of it. Both his real face and the one that would appear on his fake documents looked different to his current appearance.
He lowered the blinds, carefully.
He walked to the bedroom. The limp was more pronounced now.
“Jack?”
He soaked the curtains and his bed with alcohol. He poured a good amount on the furniture. He took a blanket, he ripped it in the middle to double its length and then he laid it on the floor towards the other room. More alcohol on the curtains and the furniture.
He walked into the kitchen. His eyes blinked for a moment.
“Jack… everything okay?”
“Yes, fuck, yes.”
“The gas. Now.”
Riondino pulled the stove forward. He disconnected the gas supply. The smell of gas spread through the room with a hiss.
He walked out of the kitchen and closed the door behind him. He put a towel down to seal the door – he had to make sure that the gas didn’t spread through the whole flat before he wanted it to. The kitchen had to be full of gas when the flames reached it.
He put on his backpack with his laptop in it.
He blinked again – this time more slowly.
“Jack… Jack!”
Riondino had frozen in the middle of the room.
“Jack – kick her out! Kick her out!”
Riondino took a step forward, then another one.
Another deep breath.
“I got it, Fox… it’s all under control…”
“Finish the work. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Riondino’s heart was pounding and his hands were shaking when he quickly hunkered down to set light to the blanket laid on the floor.
“Quick! Quick!”
In a moment, he was out of the flat – a few moments later, he was hidden in the shadows in the corner of the entrance hall. It felt as if his lungs were now incapable of inhaling air.
“How long will it take, Fox?”
“I don’t know… I reckon a few minutes. Let’s be ready any time. When the explosion happens, everybody will run out of the building like a flock of sheep.”
*
Sensi had fallen asleep in his armchair watching TV. He had only been able to follow the show for a few minutes, then his eyelids had become as heavy as lead and he had dropped off. He was fast asleep when the telephone rang – he woke up suddenly, startled. Initially he didn’t understand the meaning of the first few words that he heard
on the phone.
“W-what? An explosion?”
“Half a building has been blown up by an explosion… it’s mayhem!”
Maiezza’s voice was difficult to hear – a lot of background noise was making the conversation almost impossible.
“Hello? What’s this noise? I can’t hear much… which building is it?”
“The firemen… the firemen are here now.”
“Which building is it?”
“One of the buildings that we were monitoring! It’s in flames… there was an explosion and now there’s a huge fire. A whole floor is in flames.”
“Hello? Hello? I can’t hear you… shout for me!”
“It’s a mess – people are all over the place now!”
“Fuck! Where’s Riondino?”
“There must be more than two hundred people outside, about one hundred of them ran out of the building… there’s a lot of smoke… a lot of noise… and firemen… and ambulances.” Maiezza shouted on the phone.
“Riondino?”
“You can’t imagine how messy it is right now – it’s impossible to keep an eye on everyone. I think we lost him.”
*
The underground train doors closed behind him. Riondino walked towards the exit, together with a few other passengers. He was walking fast, his head low and the hat hiding most of his face now.
“What did I say, Jack? We made it!”
“We have to be careful – they will be after us now.”
“Calm down… they’re probably still struggling to understand what happened.”
“We’re not all that close to our friend’s place yet – it will take us time to get there.”
“The city is big, Jack. It’s dark and there are still people in the street – we will blend in. If we keep calm, we’ll get there without even realising.”
“Something tells me that it’s not going to be as easy as you say, Fox.”
“Easy… I’m not the one who complicated everything. Julia almost showed up again…”
“It didn’t happen.”
“We were that close to the end. I was losing control of myself. She was there. She was about to take control and goodness knows what would have happened.”