Giorgio Faletti - I Kill

‘Frank, I know of your regard for Inspector Hulot. Believe me, I deeply dislike taking steps that I know are unpopular. I also know how much Hulot is admired by the police force, but you must understand-’

‘Of course I understand,’ Frank interrupted with a slight smile. ‘Perfectly. And I don’t want it to be a problem.’

Roncaille saw that the conversation had taken a downward spin, which could end badly. He hurried to smooth things over and distribute portions of ambrosia in the doses he deemed appropriate.

‘There aren’t – and there mustn’t be – any problems between us, Frank. The request for and offer of collaboration are comprehensive, unquestioning and complete. Mr Bolton is here to confirm that.’

The consul leaned back in his chair and placed his forefinger on the tip of his nose. He was in a position of power and was doing everything he could to play it down, while at the same time letting Frank know that he was not alone. Frank had the same impression of him as a decent, likeable person as he’d had during Bolton’s brief visit to Parc Saint-Roman.

‘Frank, it’s no use pretending. The situation is very messy. And now there’s this… uh… business with Captain Mosse. But that chapter is finished and the diplomats will take care of it as they see fit. As for Mr No One, as the press calls him… well…’

Roncaille turned to Durand, leaving him the job of completing his sentence. The attorney general looked at Frank, who could tell that he would rather take his clothes off on TV than have to say what he was saying now.

‘We have all agreed to put the investigation in your hands. Nobody is better qualified. You’re a first-class agent with an excellent record. Exceptional, I’d say. You’ve been on the case since the beginning, you know everyone involved and everyone admires and respects you. Sergeant Morelli will be working with you as representative of the police and to liaise with Principality authorities. But otherwise you’ve got a free rein. Please keep Roncaille and myself informed on any developments, keeping in mind that your goal is the same as ours: to catch this criminal before he kills anyone else.’

Durand finished his speech and stared at Frank as if he had just been forced to make an unbelievable concession, like a parent who allows a naughty child a second helping of cake. Frank was particular in expressing his thanks, as Roncaille and Durand expected of him, though what he really would have liked was to tell them both to kiss his ass.

Fine. I suppose I should be honoured by this appointment, and really, I am. Unfortunately, the serial killer we’re after is astoundingly intelligent. So far, he hasn’t made the slightest error, in spite of the fact that he’s been operating in such a tiny, well-policed area.’

Roncaille took this acknowledgement of the local police as personal praise. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

‘You can use Inspector Hulot’s office. As I mentioned, Sergeant Morelli is at your disposal. You’ll find all the documentation there, and the forensic report on the last two murders, including Roby Stricker’s. The autopsy report is on its way and should be on your desk tomorrow morning. If you need it, you’ll be given a car and a POLICE ON DUTY sign.’

‘That would help.’

‘Morelli will have the car waiting when you leave. One last thing: are you armed?’

‘Yes, I’ve got a gun.’

‘Good. We’ll get you a badge so you can work in Principality territory. Good luck, Frank.’

Frank realized that the meeting was over, at least as far as he was concerned. Perhaps they still had things to discuss that involved him, but he couldn’t have cared less. He got up, shook hands all round the table and left the room. As he walked down the corridor to Hulot’s office, he thought about the events of the afternoon.

First, the lead that Guillaume Mercier had uncovered. The clue he had found by analysing the video was worth its weight in gold. In an investigation with so little evidence and so much guesswork, a name and an address might mean the difference between life and death. But unlike Nicolas, Frank was anxious rather than hopeful at the thought of the new lead. What if this scrap of hope turned to ashes? It seemed a fanciful weapon to combat such monumental evil. And yet there was a chance that Hulot would be more likely to find out something in his spare time than while he’d been officially working on the investigation.

Second, there was Helena Parker. What did she want from him? Why was she so frightened of her father? What was her relationship to Captain Mosse? Given the way he had treated her the day of the fight, they were more than just a general’s daughter and his subordinate, even if he was almost a member of the family. And most important, did the story of an emotionally unstable woman in her father’s care have any truth to it?

Questions kept running through Frank’s mind, although he was trying to consider Helena Parker irrelevant, a distraction that would only take his concentration away from No One and the investigation in which he was now directly involved.

He opened the door to Nicolas’s office without knocking. Now it was his, and he could do as he pleased. Morelli was sitting at the desk and jumped up when he saw him. There was a moment of embarrassment and Frank knew they needed to stop and figure out exactly where each of them stood.

‘Hey, Claude.’

‘Hello, Frank.’

‘Did you hear the news?’

‘Yes. Roncaille told me everything. I’m glad you’re the one running the investigation now, although…’

‘Although?’

‘I think they treated Hulot like shit.’ Morelli did not hold back when he said these words.

‘To be honest, Claude, so do I.’ Frank smiled.

If that was a test, they had both passed. The tension in the room eased considerably. When the time had come to choose, Morelli had done as Frank expected. He wondered whether he could trust him enough to let him know about the latest news and Nicolas’s secret pilgrimage. Morelli was an efficient, experienced officer, but he was still part of the police force of the Principality of Monaco. Revealing too much might mean getting him in trouble if anything happened. That was something Morelli did not deserve.

The sergeant pointed to a file on the desk. ‘Here’s the forensic report.’

‘Did you read it?’

‘I glanced through it. There’s nothing we don’t already know. Gregor Yatzimin was killed just like the others, without a trace. No One’s still out there and there’s nothing to stand in his way.’

That’s not so, Claude. Not exactly. There’s stolen music in the air…

‘All we can do right now is keep the radio station under control. That means maximum alert, special teams ready, and so on. Agreed?’

‘Sure.’

‘There’s one favour I’d like to ask of you,’ said Frank.

‘Name it.’

‘If you don’t mind, I’ll let you monitor the situation at the radio station by yourself tonight. I don’t think anything’s going to happen. Last night’s killing wore down his batteries and he’ll lie low until he recharges. That’s what usually happens with serial killers. I’ll be listening to the show and you can reach me on my cell, but I need the night off. Can you handle it?’

‘Not a problem, Frank.’

Frank wondered how things were going between Morelli and Barbara. The sergeant’s interest in the girl seemed to be mutual, but then other things had happened. Morelli did not seem the type to neglect his work for romantic reasons, even if the reason was as good-looking as Barbara.

‘They promised me my own car. Mind finding out if they kept their word?’

‘Right away.’

The sergeant left the room and Frank was alone. He took his wallet from his jacket pocket and pulled out a card folded in half. It was a piece of the letter that General Parker had left him at the hotel after their first meeting in the main square of Eze. His phone numbers were on it. Frank stared at it for a moment, then made a decision, dialling the home number on his mobile. Helena Parker answered after two rings.