“May we see the complete file?”
The colonnello shrugged, rose, shuffled to a distant cabinet, then returned with a fat bundle of documents. He put it on the table, cut the twine with his pocketknife.
Pendergast looked through the documents, pulled one out, began to summarize in English: “Carlo Vanni, aged sixty-nine, retired farmer, body found in a ruined casa colonica in the mountains near Abetone. There was no physical evidence recovered at the site, no fingerprints, fibers, shell casings, prints, tracks.” He glanced up. “This does not look like the work of a maniac to me.”
A slow smile gathered on the colonnello’s face. “Even among the carabinieri, incompetence has been known to occur. Just because no evidence was recovered does not mean there was no evidence to recover.”
Pendergast flipped the page. “A single shot to the heart. And what’s this? Some droplets of molten aluminum recovered by the medico legale, burned deep into the man’s flesh.”
He flipped another page.
“Now, this is even more intriguing. Several years before his murder, Vanni was accused of molesting children in the local community. He got off on a technicality. The police theorized that the murder was simple vengeance, and it appears they did not try very hard to find the killer.”
The colonnello stubbed out his cigarette. “Allora. A revenge killing, someone from the community. The killer wanted to make this pedophile suffer for what he had done. Hence the burning, then the shot to the heart. It explains everything.”
“It would seem so.”
A long silence.
“And yet,” said Pendergast, almost to himself, “it’s too perfect. If you wanted to kill someone, Colonnello, but it made no difference who it was, who would you choose? A man exactly like this: guilty of a heinous crime but never punished for it. A man with no family, no important connections, no job. The police aren’t going to exert themselves to find the killer, and the townspeople will do all they can to hinder the investigation.”
“That is too clever, Agent Pendergast. Never in my life have I dealt with a criminal who would be capable of such sophisticated planning. And why kill someone at random? It is like something out of Dostoevsky.”
“We are not dealing with an ordinary criminal, and our killer had a very specific reason to kill.” Pendergast laid the file down and gazed at D’Agosta. “Vincent?”
“Worth pursuing.”
“May I have a copy of the report of the medico legale?” Pendergast asked.
The colonnello murmured to the officer, who had just returned with the coffee. The man took the folder to a photocopy machine, returning with the copy a moment later.
The colonnello handed it to Pendergast, then lit a cigarette, his face creased with irritation. “I hope you are not going to ask me for an exhumation order.”
“I’m afraid we are.”
Esposito sighed, smoke dribbling out of his nostrils. “Mio Dio. This is all I need. You realize how long this will take? At least a year.”
“Unacceptable.”
The colonnello nodded. “That’s Italy.” A thin smile worked itself into his face. “Of course . . .”
“Of course what?”
“You could always go the unofficial route.”
“You mean, grave robbing?”
“We prefer to call it il controllo preliminare. If you find something, then you do the paperwork.”
Pendergast rose. “Thank you, Colonnello.”
“For what? I said nothing.” And he made a mock bow. “Besides, the place is out of my jurisdiction. A satisfactory arrangement for all concerned—save perhaps Carlo Vanni.”
As they were leaving, the colonnello called after them. “Do not forget to pack panini and a good bottle of Chianti. The night, I fear, will be long and chilly.”
{ 70 }
The church where Carlo Vanni was interred lay in the foothills of the Apennines above the town of Pistoia, at the end of a winding road that seemed to climb forever through darkness. Their replacement Fiat wound back and forth, the headlights stabbing into darkness at each turn.
“We should be prepared for company,” said Pendergast.
“You think they know we’re here?”
“I know it. A car’s trailing us. I glimpsed it a couple of times three or four switchbacks down the mountain. He’ll have to park below the church, and I don’t intend to be surprised. Are you familiar with the move-and-cover approach to an objective?”
“Sure.”
“You’ll cover me while I move, then I’ll signal you to follow, like this.” And he gave a low hooting sound indistinguishable from an owl’s.
D’Agosta grinned. “Your talents always manage to surprise me. Rules of engagement?”
“We’re dealing with a potential killer, but we can’t shoot first. Wait for the first shot, then shoot to kill.”
“Meanwhile, you’re down.”