Giorgio Faletti - I Kill

Neither of them even mentioned Inspector Nicolas Hulot. Frank recalled the photos of the accident, the smashed car, his friend’s body slumped over the steering wheel with his face covered in blood. He slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and felt the piece of paper inside. Searching every inch of Jean-Loup Verdier’s house for a clue that would explain his escape, he had found an ordinary speeding ticket. The licence plate was that of a rented car. It was dated the day of Nicolas’s death and the location was not far from the scene of the accident. Frank had been led back to Jean-Loup by this simple proof and by the words of someone who had turned out to be an unknowing but effective accomplice: Pierrot.

The secret Frank had asked him to keep as an honourable policeman apparently did not include his dear friend Jean-Loup. Ironically, it was to him and to him alone that Pierrot had confided Frank’s question about the Robert Fulton record. That was how Jean-Loup had realized he’d made a mistake, and then No One had taken off after Nicolas Hulot who was on his quest to find out what he could about the record.

Frank had retraced the inspector’s steps one by one and had learned everything that he had learned. Hulot had discovered the identity of the killer long before they had. And that’s why he was dead. Roncaille’s voice roused Frank from his thoughts.

‘… I will now turn the floor over to the man who succeeded in giving the serial killer known as No One a name and a face: FBI Special Agent Frank Ottobre.’

There was no applause, just a forest of raised hands. Roncaille pointed to a reporter with red hair sitting in the first row. Frank recognized him and prepared himself for a fusillade of questions. Coletti stood up and identified himself.

‘René Coletti, France Soir. Agent Ottobre, have you been able to come up with any motive for why Jean-Loup Verdier mutilates his victims’ faces so horribly?’

Frank tried not to smile.

Two can play at that game.

Frank leaned back in his chair. ‘That’s a question that Dr Cluny is more qualified to answer than I am. I can say that, as of today, we are unable to give a satisfactory motivation behind the methods used in the killings. As Chief Roncaille has already stated, there are still a number of details under investigation. However, there are several elements that we know for certain and can share with you.’ Frank paused for effect. Dr Cluny would have been proud. ‘This certainty comes from the work done previously by Inspector Nicolas Hulot, which I then used to help identify No One. Thanks to an oversight on the part of the killer during the homicide of Allen Yoshida, Inspector Hulot managed to trace him back to an obscure case that happened years ago in Cassis, Provence. It was a violent crime and an entire family was killed. The case was filed away fairly quickly as a homicide-suicide. That judgement will now probably be up for review. I can tell you that the face of one of the victims was disfigured in exactly the same manner as those of No One’s victims.’

The room was abuzz. Other hands shot in the air. A young, vigilant-looking reporter stood up before anyone else. ‘Laura Schubert, Le Figaro .’

Frank gave her the floor with a nod.

‘But wasn’t Inspector Hulot removed from the case?’

Out of the corner of his eye Frank could see Roncaille and Durand stiffen. He smiled at the young woman who was about to hear a different story, the real one.

Up yours, assholes.

‘That’s actually not quite true. It was a misinterpretation by the press of certain declarations, which never mentioned that possibility. Inspector Hulot was simply detached from the inquiry here in Monte Carlo, to be able to follow his lead with the utmost discretion. As you can imagine, this detail was not revealed to the public for a number of reasons. It is with great sorrow that I have to announce that his investigative ability was itself the cause of his death, which did not occur in a simple car accident. Instead, it was yet another murder by No One who, realizing his identity had been discovered, came out in the open to kill again. I repeat, the credit for identifying the person responsible for these murders goes to Commissioner Nicolas Hulot, who paid for it with his life.’

The story didn’t hold water, but it made the journalists sit up and take notice. It was something for the media to tell, which was all Frank wanted. Durand and Roncaille were beside themselves but they tried with all their might to grin and bear it. Morelli, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, sneaked Frank a thumbs-up from under his elbow.

A reporter who spoke French with a heavy Italian accent stood up. ‘Marco Franti. Corriere della Sera, Milan. Can you tell us something more about what Inspector Hulot found out in Cassis?’

‘I repeat, that investigation is still under way and it will be some time before it is concluded. There is only one thing that I can tell you with certainty. We are trying to find out No One’s real name, since we believe that even Jean-Loup Verdier is an alias. Investigations at the Cassis cemetery based on Inspector Hulot’s lead have uncovered the fact that Jean-Loup Verdier is the name of a boy who drowned at sea many years ago while diving, around the time that the violent episode I mentioned earlier took place. The coincidence is suspicious, considering that the boy’s grave is just a few feet from that of the family.’

Another reporter raised his hand and shouted out his question without even standing, miraculously managing to make his voice heard over the uproar.

‘What can you tell us about the incident with Captain Ryan Mosse?’

A sudden silence fell over the room at the mention of one of the affair’s most stinging questions. Frank looked carefully at the reporter and then ran his gaze over all those present.

‘The arrest of Captain Ryan Mosse, who has already been released, was a mistake on my part. I am not looking for excuses or circumstantial evidence, which seemed enough to suspect Mosse of the murder of Roby Stricker at the time. Unfortunately, innocent people can sometimes get entangled in a very complicated investigation. This, however, is not and can never be a justification. I repeat, it was a mistake for which I am solely responsible and ready to face the consequences. Nobody else is to blame. Now, if you will excuse me -’ Frank stood up. ‘Unfortunately, I am still working with the police to capture a very dangerous killer. I am sure that Attorney General Durand, Chief Roncaille and Dr Cluny will be happy to answer the rest of your questions.’

Frank left the table, walked towards where Morelli was standing by the wall and disappeared through a side door. He found himself in a wide, circular hallway adjacent to the conference room. The sergeant joined him moments later.

‘You were terrific, Frank. I’d pay anything for a photo of Roncaille and Durand’s faces when you said that about Inspector Hulot. I’d show them to my grandchildren as proof that there is a God. Now-’

Steps approaching behind them interrupted Morelli. He stared at a point behind Frank.

‘So, we meet again, Mr Ottobre.’

Frank immediately recognized the voice. He turned and found himself face-to-face with the lifeless eyes of Ryan Mosse and the damned soul of General Nathan Parker. Morelli was immediately by his side. Frank sensed his presence and was grateful.

‘Is there a problem here, Frank?’

‘No, Claude, no problem. I think you can go. Right, general?’

‘Of course. No problem. If you will excuse us, sergeant.’ Parker’s voice was cold as ice.

Morelli walked away, not wholly convinced. Frank heard his steps on the marble floor. Nathan Parker and Ryan Mosse stood in silence until he turned the corner and disappeared. Then, Parker spoke first.