Michael Morley - Viper

His gaze slipped across to Sorrentino.

The anthropologist's face was easy to recognize. It was plastered all over the press. Il Grande Leone. Now he could be a threat. A serious one.

Why was he here again? What had he found now?

Another victim. That would be it. That would explain all the activity.

The so-called genius was about to make more discoveries. He was pointing and people were running. He was creating excitement. Not the kind of excitement that was wanted. Not the kind that was helpful.

Kill him and you stop the inquiry in its tracks. Slow them down. Screw them up. Burn them out.

Sylvia caught his eye again as she walked back to her car.

Come to think of it, there was something about her. Not drop-dead beautiful – he liked that phrase, drop-dead – but she had a certain style. A certain way about her. She was – he struggled to describe her – challenging.

Yes, that's it. She was challenging. Well, he was always up for a challenge.

Sylvia Tomms walked out of his view, but not out of his mind.

She'd look good naked. The stupid policewoman heading the inquiry would look great dressed in flames.

But first, there was some lion-taming to be done.

Stazione dei carabinieri, Castello di Cisterna Back at her desk, Sylvia mainlined on more coffee and nicotine. Creed's picture stared up at her from an open file and begged a bunch of questions. Was he the type to kill because he felt inadequate? The type to crash a press conference to flaunt his power? Or, was he the proverbial fly in the ointment? One of those weird interlopers who bog you down and bleed you of resources?

The last thing she needed right now was another twist in the already tangled tale of murder and missing women. But that's exactly what she got. It came in the form of the man hastily ushered in to see her. A fresh-faced detective from the local homicide division of the polizia. He'd arrived unannounced and had insisted on seeing her straight away.

'Capitano, my name is Mario Dal Santo.' He was in his early thirties, maybe even late twenties. Sylvia noticed the trousers of his smart grey suit were splashed with mud, as were the soles and heels of his highly polished shoes. 'Please, sit down.'

'I saw you on the news yesterday – the Di Lauro killing. Everyone at the station house is talking about that press conference.'

Great, a surprise dose of public humiliation. Get used to it, girl, you're going to hear that a lot. 'And that's why you're here?'

He managed a sympathetic look. 'No. Not at all. We're investigating the shooting of a young courting couple, not far from here – teenagers…'

'Wait a second,' Sylvia cut him off. She picked up the overnight area crime report from her in-tray. 'This must be really fresh. I've no cross-force intel.'

'We're still at the scene. The ME isn't even there yet. My boss sent me because he remembered a confidential you'd circulated, asking to be alerted if anyone came across a homicide in which a woman was killed by fire.'

Sylvia frowned. 'But you said two shootings, didn't you?'

'I did,' he smiled. Perfect teeth and puppy-dog eyes. 'But I hadn't finished telling you the full story. Two teenagers were killed in the car belonging to one of their parents. A third body was also discovered, a woman's, and this one was burned as well as shot.'

'How? Where?'

'In a pit near where the kids were killed. It's some kind of garbage dump for a campsite. Maybe local rubbish is torched there as well.'

'You said burned – how was she burned? Completely burned, partly burned? I mean, forensically is there anything left of her?'

'There's almost nothing left. Well, there didn't seem much to me. Like I said, the scene is still active. You want to come and see for yourself?'

'Mister, the last thing I want to do is go and see another burned body, but I think I'd better.' She grabbed her lighter and cigarettes and slugged back the now cold coffee, knowing it might be her last for a while. 'Give me a second to update my team. If this incident is connected, I want jurisdiction, understood? No disrespect, but I think we're better equipped to deal with this incident. Agreed?'

'Agreed. I'll have to double-check with my boss but we've got so much on, I reckon he'll be glad to dump the paperwork on your desk.' Dal Santo glanced down at the mess. 'Providing you promise not to lose it in there.'

Crime scene 1, Campeggio Castellani, Pompeii A carabinieri driver sped Jack to the new crime scene. From what Sylvia had told him on the phone, the fresh killings might provide a breakthrough. The scene was rich in forensic evidence that hadn't been corrupted by five years of burial, and – Jack guessed – probably just as rich in psychological evidence as well. The new deaths were only a few kilometres from where the graves of Francesca Di Lauro and the second victim had just been found. Given the burning of the bodies, it seemed probable they were connected. This might – just might – be the scene where both women had been killed.

The driver flicked on an indicator. 'We're here. I just have to turn in about a hundred metres,' said the driver, looking at a satnav screen. The car veered right into the campsite. There was so much crime-scene tape fluttering in the wind that it looked as though the area had been marked off for marathon runners. Soldiers swarmed around the vehicle and chatted to the driver in Italian. Then they waved them on; down the driveway, past static caravans, a run-down children's play area, some decrepit wooden chalets that needed refurbishing, a shabby shower block, a screen that hid overflowing waste bins and then more static vans. They stopped alongside a parking area on soft ground. As he got out, Jack recognized the big shape of Lieutenant Pietro Raimondi.

'Ciao, Jack. Sylvia, she is down at the other scene.' They shook hands and Pietro motioned them forwards. 'Sorry we have to walk, but the forensic teams they are still examining the grass for vehicle marks.'

'No problem, I need the exercise. Sylvia said the polizia were first on the scene. Is there a jurisdiction problem?'

'No. The parents of the teenagers they called the polizia, but we cooperate very well and they say we can run the case.'

They trudged briskly into a gathering wind and were slightly breathless by the time they reached the crime scene.

The pit itself resembled a crater that had been made by the impact of a giant meteorite. Inside it, everyone wore white Tyvek coveralls with protective masks and gloves. They looked like spacemen. Jack paused to take it all in. The excavation was deep at the centre, maybe as much as two metres. The pit was more rectangle than square. In its centre was a patch of heavily blackened ground, with mounds of burned rubbish and a white forensic tent.

'What was this used for?'

Pietro shrugged. 'I don't know. Looks like a building excavation. I think a house was going to be made. My uncle was a builder and he had digs like this.'

'But there's crap everywhere.' Jack pointed to old, burned cans and shrivelled plastic lying between the duckboards that the forensic teams had put down.

'They've been burning trash here. We have a problem with garbage in Naples. The authorities don't collect properly, so many people with land make money burning garbage, or burying it.'

The top of the pit was marked off with crime-scene tape and guarded by officers logging in anyone with authority to access the area. Pietro pointed to it. 'Sylvia is down there, with the ME. You want to join them?'

'In a minute.' Jack's gaze moved on to another tented area. It was obviously where the car was being examined. Where the young couple had been murdered.

'That shooting looks routine, they are almost done there.' Pietro pointed to the middle of the pit. 'The other site is – how you say? Far more complex.'