Venice, present day The two men wore identical grey suits. One had a pair of aviators perched on the bridge of his nose even though it was 10.30 at night and black as a coalface outside the police station. The other, taller man had spiky bleached blond hair, with black roots. He was chewing gum. They approached the main desk and the officer in charge, Gabrielli Risso eyed them, a faint tingle of fear edging along his spine. 'Yes?'
The man wearing the sunglasses silently surveyed the room. The other took a wallet from his pocket and held it up close to the desk officer's face. ROS: Raggruppamento Operativo Speciale, an elite division of the Carabinieri, an anti-terrorism unit. 'How may I help you?' Risso asked.
Still chewing on his gum, the blond man said, 'We're here to collect the prisoner.'
'If you mean the murder suspect brought in from San Marco this evening, he's still being processed.' 'Get your commanding officer here… now.'
Risso stared into the man's slate-grey eyes and decided not to argue. He lifted the receiver and punched in three numbers.
A few moments later, a middle-aged man dressed in the uniform of a Vice Provincial Commander appeared. 'Commander Mantessi.' He had a strong Neapolitan accent. 'My duty officer tells me you're interested in the San Marco murder.' 'Is there somewhere we can be more private?'
The Commander indicated a room off the main hall. It was empty apart from a steel table. There were metal bars at the single square window in the wall opposite the door. The man wearing shades stood silently at the end of the table. The blond man sat down. 'We have been sent to transfer the prisoner.'
The Commander lowered himself into a seat opposite, placed his arms on the table and interlocked his fingers. 'I've heard nothing about this.' 'Our Commander emailed you this evening.' 'I have not received an email.'
The ROS officer kept his eyes fixed on Mantessi and withdrew a sheaf of papers from an inside pocket of his jacket. 'Here.'
Mantessi glanced at them and stood up without a word. 'Wait here.'
In less than a minute he was back in the room. 'There's no record of this request other than the document you showed me. There's no email,' he said simply.
'I anticipated that eventuality,' the ROS officer said. 'You cannot rely on the new technology. So I took the liberty of contacting your superior, Deputy Prefect Aldo Candotti.' He handed Mantessi his mobile. The commander took it as though he had been offered a stale halibut. Placing it to his ear, he said. 'Yes, Deputy Prefect. Yes, that is correct. But sir, we have no formal…' He glanced at the ROS officer who was gazing at his shoes and rocking on his heels. The other officer appeared to be staring straight at him, but it was hard to tell for sure. 'That's correct sir. Yes, naturally. I see… Very well… Goodnight.' He made a show of finishing the conversation even though Candotti had already hung up. The ROS van pulled up at the back entrance to the police station. The prisoner had been cuffed, his hands behind his back. Four officers escorted him to the doors of the van. He smirked at Mantessi who watched the process from the doorway. Two uniforms pushed the prisoner's head down to clear the frame before they closed the doors and banged on them to tell the driver all was secure. The van sped away. A black Alfa Romeo 159 carrying the ROS officers swept out behind it.
The two vehicles crossed Ponte della Liberta and took a turning off to Mestre, the lights of Venice dipping behind them. The main road twisted north and plunged past fields skirted by olive groves before it narrowed to a two-lane street with modest stone houses on either side. The van and the car pulled off into a lane and stopped. The two men jumped from the Alfa Romeo and met the driver of the van midway between the vehicles. The lane was slushy underfoot. Sleet had only stopped falling an hour before. Their breath hit the cold air and swirled around their faces. They swapped keys. The car reversed, swung around in the lane and skidded off while the two ROS officers jumped into the cabin of the van, fired the engine and continued on along the muddy track. A mile further on, they could see headlights in the night. They slowed and pulled over under the branches of a tree close to a black car. Running round the back of the van, they opened the doors.
'God, am I glad to see you,' the prisoner exclaimed and scrambled out into the chill air.
One of the ROS men patted him on the back. 'Good to see you too, Giulio.'
The other officer quickly unlocked the cuffs. Giulio rubbed his wrists. One of the men offered him a cigarette. He took it gratefully and lit up, following them around the side of the van.
The headlights switched off and a burly figure emerged from the black car. Aldo Candotti had his hands in the pockets of a shin-length black coat that flapped around his legs. He shook hands with the three men. 'Excellent work' he said, his voice flat. 'Now gentlemen.' He turned to the two ROS officers. 'If you could wait here for a moment. I would like a private word with Giulio.'
Candotti put one meaty arm about the prisoner's shoulder and led him down the leafy lane under the trees.
'I am really grateful,' Giulio gave Candotti a big smile. 'I will soon have the information you need.'
'The problem is,' the Chief of Police replied, 'you seem to have generated… how shall I put it? Rather a lot of bad PR, Giulio. Your idea of grabbing the girl at the apartment was so crude, I had to intervene personally.'
Giulio's fingers pinched the cigarette between his lips. Pulling it away, he tossed it to the ground and crushed it under the toe of his shoe. When he looked up, Candotti was holding a pistol an inch from his forehead. Giulio tensed and took a step back.
'Inefficiency is excusable in many people, Giulio,' Candotti said wearily. 'People can accept it if a pop star turns up late for a show or a painter needs just that little bit longer to finish his masterpiece. But assassins? Well, it doesn't work, does it? Surely you can see that.'
Giulio's mind was racing. No situation was ever irretrievable. He stole a glance towards the vehicles, seeing the two men looking directly at them.
'I would say I'm sorry I have to do this,' the Chief of Police said. 'But I do so hate cliches, don't you? Now, shall I get you on your knees and shoot you through the head or would it be more sporting to let you run and shoot you in the back?'
The gun went off and a large hole was blasted in the middle of Giulio's forehead. 'Or how about I make it a surprise?' Candotti enquired. Pocketing the gun, he picked his way back to the car, trying to avoid splashing mud on his shoes. He was already firing up the engine as the two policemen approached. Candotti let the window down. 'Bury him in the woods,' he said, staring into the cold eyes of the blond ROS officer. Without another word, he sped off down the track, out on to the main road and back to the Most Serene Republic.