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As they approached the car he looked tentatively at the driver’s seat.

Sachs said, ‘You drive.’

To Ercole’s great relief.

She handed him the keys.

Once she and Ercole were settled and the engine running, she asked, ‘That line you gave me about continuity? Is that what Spiro really said?’

Ercole was blushing and concentrating on getting the car in first gear. ‘It was a rough translation.’

‘Ercole?’

He swallowed. ‘He said I was to get the woman – that is, you – out of the scene immediately, and if I let her – that is, again, you – talk to any officers again, much less the press, without his express permission, he would have my job. Here, and in my own unit of Forestry.’

Sachs nodded. Then asked, ‘Was “woman” the word he really used?’

After a pause: ‘No, it was not.’ He signaled, let up on the clutch, then pulled gingerly into the street surrounding the square, as if his frail grandmother were sitting in the backseat.

CHAPTER 20

Stunned.

That was Rhyme’s impression of Ali Maziq.

In the situation room at police headquarters Rhyme was watching the kidnap victim through open doorways, across the hall, an empty ground-floor office.

The scrawny man sat in a chair, clutching a bottle of Aranciata San Pellegrino soda. He’d already drunk one of the orange beverages, and several small drops dotted his beard. His face was gaunt – though this would be his natural state, Rhyme supposed, since his ordeal had been only a day or so in length. Dark circles under his eyes. Prominent ears and nose … and that impressive mass of wiry black hair that wholly enveloped his scalp and lower face.

Rossi, Ercole and Sachs were with Rhyme. There was little for Thom to do at the moment, so he’d left to check into the hotel and make sure the disabled accessibility was as the place claimed.

For a half hour, Maziq had been interviewed by a Police of State officer, who was fluent in Arabic and English.

Sachs had wanted to be present, or to conduct her own interview, but Rossi had declined her request. Dante Spiro would have been behind that.

Finally, the officer concluded the interview and joined the others. He handed Rossi his notes, then returned to the office across the hall. He spoke to Maziq, who still seemed bewildered. He slowly rose and followed the officer down the corridor. He clutched his orange soda as if it were a lucky charm.

Rossi said, ‘He will stay here in protective custody for the time being. He is remaining in a, how do you say, a state? Confused state. Better that we keep an eye on him. And, with the Composer still out in the world, we do not know for certain that Maziq is safe. There is, of course, no motive that we can see.’

‘Who is he?’ Sachs asked.

‘He is an asylum-seeker from Libya. One of so many. He came here on a ship that crashed.’ He frowned and spoke to Ercole, who said, ‘Beached.’

‘Sì. Beached in Baia a week ago, a resort area northwest of Naples. He and forty others arrived there and were arrested. They had good fortune. The weather was good. They survived, all of them. That very day a ship sank off Lampedusa and a dozen died.’

Sachs said, ‘If he’d been arrested why was he out in the countryside?’

‘A very good question,’ Rossi said. ‘Perhaps it is helpful to explain our situation in Italy with regard to refugees. You are aware of the immigrants coming out of Syria, inundating Turkey and Greece and Macedonia?’

Current events held little interest for Rhyme, but the plight of refugees in the Middle East was everywhere in the news. He’d actually just read an article about the subject on the long flight from the United States.

‘We have a similar problem here. It’s a long, dangerous journey to Italy from Syria but a less long trip from Egypt, Libya and Tunisia. Libya is an utterly failed state; after the Arab Spring it became a land of civil war, with extremists on the rise. ISIS and other groups. There is terrible poverty too, in addition to the political turmoil. Adding to the problem, the drought and famine in sub-Saharan Africa are driving refugees from the south into Libya, which can hardly accommodate them. So human smugglers – who are also rapists and thieves – charge huge sums to ferry people to Lampedusa, which I mentioned. It is Italy’s closest island to Africa.’ He sighed. ‘I used to vacation with my family in there, when I was a boy. Now I would never take my own children. So, the smugglers bring the poorer asylum-seekers there. Others, if they pay a premium, will be taken to the mainland – like Maziq – in hopes they can avoid arrest.

‘But, like him, most are caught, though it is an overwhelming challenge for the army, navy and the police.’ He looked toward Rhyme. ‘It has not touched your country as much. But here it is a crisis of great proportions.’

The article Rhyme had read on the plane was about a conference presently under way in Rome, on the refugee situation. The attendees, from all over the world, were looking for ways to balance the humanitarian need to help the unfortunates, on the one hand, and the concerns about economic hardship and security in the destination countries, on the other. Among the emergency measures under consideration, the story said, the US Congress was considering a bill to allow 150,000 immigrants into the country, and Italy itself was soon to vote on a measure to relax deportation laws, though both proposals were controversial and were being met with strong opposition.

‘Ali Maziq is typical of these people. Under the Dublin Regulation on asylum seeking, he was required to apply for asylum in the country of entry – Italy. He was run through Eurodac, and—’

‘Dactyloscopy?’ Rhyme asked. The technical term for fingerprinting.

It was Ercole who answered, ‘Yes, that is correct. Refugees are fingerprinted and undergo a background check.’

Rossi continued, ‘So, this is Maziq’s situation. He passed the initial review – no criminal or terrorist connections. If so, he would have been deported immediately. But he was cleared so he was removed from the intake camp and placed in a secondary site. These are hotels or old military barracks. They can slip out, as many do, but if they don’t return they will be deported to their home country when caught.

‘Maziq was staying in a residence hotel in Naples. Not a very pleasant place but serviceable. As for the events leading up to the kidnapping, he himself has no memory of what happened. The interviewer was inclined to believe him, because of the trauma of the kidnapping – the drugs and the lack of oxygen. But Daniela canvassed the hotel and a fellow refugee said Maziq told him he was planning on taking a bus to meet someone for dinner near D’Abruzzo. It’s a small town in the countryside.’

Sachs said, ‘We should find that guy he ate with and talk to him. He might have seen the Composer. Maybe tailing Maziq.’

Rossi said, ‘There is a possibility about that. The Postal Police have analyzed the data from the phone card found where he was kidnapped. It is surely his, rather than the Composer’s. He used a prepaid mobile, as all refugees do. Just before he was kidnapped he made calls to other prepaids – in Naples, in Libya and to an Italian town in the north, Bolzano, not far from the border. The Postal Police believe they can correlate the pings. You understand?’

‘Yes,’ Rhyme said. ‘To find out where he was when he was at dinner.’

‘Precisely. They will let me know soon.’

Sachs asked, ‘What does he have to say?’

‘He remembers very little. He believes he was blindfolded much of the time. He awoke in the reservoir and his kidnapper was gone.’

Unsmiling Beatrice – as womanly round as a Botticelli model – walked from the laboratory to the situation room.

‘Ecco.’ She held up a few printouts.

Ercole picked up a Sharpie and stepped to the board. She shook her head, adamantly, and took the marker from his hand. She glanced at Rossi and spoke.

Ercole frowned, while Rossi laughed. He explained, ‘She has said the Forestry officer’s handwriting is not the best. He will read the results of the Scientific Police’s analysis in English and she will write it on our chart. He will assist her in translation.’

As the man read from the sheets, the woman’s stubby fingers skittered over the pad on the easel in, yes, it was true, quite elegant handwriting.

‘The Composer’ Kidnapping, Viale Margherita, 22, Naples

• Site: Roman aqueduct reservoir.

• Victim: Ali Maziq.

Refugee, temporarily housed at Paradise Hotel, Naples.

Minor injuries to neck and throat from strangulation.

Minor dehydration.

Disorientation and memory loss from drugs and lack of oxygen.

• Trace from clothing of Victim:

Variant of drug, amobarbital.

Residue of liquid chloroform.

Clay-based dirt, source unknown.

• Footprints:

Victim’s.

Converse Cons, Size 45, same as at other scenes.

• Bottle, containing water. No source determined.

• Nokia phone, prepaid mobile (sent to Postal Police for analysis), EID number indicates bought for cash two days ago at tobacco store on Viale Emanuele. Phone short-circuited in water spill upon entry to site. Sim card revealed five calls earlier in day from one number, prepaid, no longer active.

DNA on phone (sweat, most likely)

Matches that of Composer.

• Trace of olanzapine, antipsychotic drug.

• Small amount of sodium chloride, propylene glycol, mineral oil, glyceryl monostearate, polyoxyethelene stearate, stearyl alcohol, calcium chloride, potassium chloride, methylparaben, butylparaben.

• Duct tape. No source determined.

• Cotton cloth, used as gag. No source determined.

• Noose, made of two musical instrument strings, E string for double-bass instrument. Similar to noose from crime scene in New York used on victim Robert Ellis.

• Bucket, common. No source determined.

• Lock and hasp, barring front door. Common. No source determined.

• Wooden rod, improvised gallows. Common. No source determined.

• No fingerprints, other than Victim’s. Smudge marks suggest latex gloves.

• Related: Uploaded video on NowChat video posting service, four minutes, three seconds, depicting Victim, noose. Music playing: ‘Waltz of the Flowers’ from The Nutcracker and human gasping (possibly Victim’s).

Postal Police attempting to trace upload, but use of proxies and virtual private networks is slowing search.

Beatrice then taped up a dozen crime scene photographs of the water reservoir where Maziq had been held, as well as the entryway to the old building, the aqueduct and the musty brick basement.

Ercole stared at the pictures of the reservoir, which seemed to depict a medieval torture chamber. ‘A grim place.’

Rhyme said nothing to the Forestry officer but scanned the chart. ‘Well, I mentioned crazy. I didn’t see how right I was.’

‘What is that you mean, Captain Rhyme?’

‘You see the sodium chloride, propylene glycol and so on?’

‘Yes. What is that?’

‘Electroconductive jelly. It’s applied to the skin for electroconvulsive shock treatments for psychotics. Rare nowadays.’

‘Could the Composer be seeing a mental doctor here?’ Ercole asked. ‘For those treatments?’

‘No, no,’ Rhyme said. ‘The procedure takes time in the hospital. It’s probably from the same place where the Composer got the antipsychotic drug: a US hospital. He’s functioning well enough, so I’d guess he had the treatment a few days before the New York attack. And what’s amobarbital? Another antipsychotic?’

Sachs said, ‘I’ll check the NYPD database.’ A moment later she reported, ‘It’s a fast-acting sedative to combat panic attacks. It was developed a hundred years ago in Germany as a truth serum – it didn’t work for that but doctors found it had a side effect of quickly calming agitated or aggressive subjects.’

Many bipolar and schizophrenic patients, Rhyme knew from past cases, were often racked with anxiety.

Another figure stepped slowly into the doorway. It was Dante Spiro, who scanned everyone with an expressionless face.

‘Procuratore,’ Ercole said.

The prosecutor cocked his head and wrote something in his leather-bound book.

For some reason, Ercole Benelli witnessed this with concern, Rhyme noted.

Spiro slipped the book away and reviewed the evidence chart. He said only, ‘English. Ah.’

Then he turned to Sachs and Rhyme. ‘Now. Your involvement in this case is to be limited to these four walls. Are you in agreement, Inspector?’ A nod toward Rossi.

‘Of course. Yes.’

‘Mr Rhyme, you are here by our grace. You have no authority to investigate a crime in this country. Your contributions to analyzing the evidence will be appreciated, if they prove helpful. As they have, and I acknowledge that. And any thoughts you might have about the Composer’s frame of mind will be taken into account too. But beyond that, no. Am I understood?’

‘Perfectly,’ Rhyme muttered.

‘Now one more thing I wish to say. On a subject that has been raised before. Extradition. You have lost jurisdiction over the Composer and his crimes in America, while we have gained it. You will wish to try for extradition but I will fight it most strenuously.’ He eyed them for a moment. ‘Let me please give you a lesson in the law, Mr Rhyme and Detective Sachs. Imagine a town in Italy called Cioccie del Lupo. The name is a joke, you see. It’s not a real place. It means Wolf Tits.’

‘Romulus and Remus, the founding of Rome myth,’ Rhyme said. His voice was bored because he was bored. He stared at the newsprint pads on the easel.

Ercole said, ‘The twins, suckling on a wolf.’

Rhyme corrected, absently, ‘The female suckles, the baby sucks.’

‘Oh. I didn’t—’

Spiro cut Ercole short with a glare and continued to Rhyme: ‘The legal lesson is this: Lawyers from America do not win cases in Cioccie del Lupo. Lawyers from Cioccie del Lupo win cases in Cioccie de Lupo. And you are Americans firmly in the city center of Cioccie del Lupo at the moment. You will not win an extradition, so it will be better for you if that thought vanishes from your mind.’

Rhyme said, ‘Maybe we should concentrate on catching him. Don’t you think?’

Spiro said nothing but slowly withdrew his phone and sent a text or email.

Rossi stirred a bit, uneasy at the exchange.

Ercole said, ‘Procuratore, Inspector, I have a thought and I would like to pursue it.’

After a moment Spiro put his phone away and lifted an eyebrow toward the young man. ‘Sì?’

‘We should set up surveillance at the place where we found Maziq. The entrance to the aqueduct.’

‘Surveillance?’

‘Yes. Of course.’ Ercole was smiling at Spiro’s apparent inability to see what was obvious to him. ‘There has been no press announcement. The police have left the area. There is tape on the door, but you must get close to see that. He might return to the scene of the crime and when he gets within the area, slap! We can arrest him. When I was there I noted hiding places across the street where one could remain concealed.’