Michael Morley - Viper

Lorenzo Pisano modestly introduced himself, though everyone in the room was well aware of who he was. 'The Finelli and Cicerone families have operated side by side for more than a decade, but whatever peace they had, it is now over. Earlier today, Fredo Finelli was killed by a car bomb near his home and Carmine Cicerone was gunned down on the steps of the church of Santa Maria Eliana. We had Bruno Valsi, Finelli's son-in-law, in custody at the time of both hits. A security guard had been killed at his home. We had nothing to charge him with and when he was bored with us and satisfied he'd established a good alibi for himself, he just upped and walked.'

Questions flew: Who died first, Finelli or Cicerone? What other casualties were there? Had Valsi orchestrated it all? Lorenzo did his best to fill the gaps. Half an hour later extra intel came in – the body of Valsi's henchman Alberto Donatello had turned up in a skip just metres away from his front door. The war was certainly underway.

Jack tuned in and out of the conversation. It was becoming harder to separate the Camorra killings from the serial murders.

But at the same time, there was still no motive, no obvious links between victims and suspects.

For a while Jack perused the whiteboards. Some listed only the female victims. Some only the bodies found near Vesuvius. One detailed all the killings and all the missing women. Another – the latest – showed only the Camorra murders.

* Fredo Finelli (64) – Finelli Don * Armando Lopapa (50) – Finelli Chauffeur * Alberto Donatello (27) – Finelli/Valsi Clan member * Beppe Basso (30) – Valsi House Guard * Carmine Cicerone (45) – Cicerone Don At first glance, today's troubles looked like a Cicerone-instigated war; with the death count running three to one in their favour. But Jack felt sure Valsi had drawn first blood. It was what he'd predicted.

He slid his attention to the next board.

* Bernardo Sorrentino (42) – forensic anthropologist – killed at home * Kristen Petrov (24) – telephone sex centre worker – Finelli/Valsi business – killed in Castellani rubbish pit * Rosa Novello (18) – killed in car at Castellani campsite * Filippo Valdrano (19) – killed with Novello in car at Castellani campsite * Franco Castellani (24) – suicide at Pompeii – lived on site where bodies of Petrov, Novello and Valdrano found * Paolo Falconi (24) – killed by cousin at Pompeii – lived on Castellani campsite * Alberta Tortoricci (38) – Valsi trial witness, killed by electrocution – body burned and found in Scampia So many deaths. So many links – strong or tenuous – to the Camorra. But, as Jack had learned, in Naples this wasn't uncommon. The Camorra touched everything. He lingered over the list and started to eliminate suspects. If the Castellani cousins were the serial killers, they could now be trimmed from the list. Case solved and then all that was left was a turf war. But surely that was too easy an answer.

Jack considered the alternatives. If the cousins were not serial killers, then Bruno Valsi continued to emerge as the main suspect. Valsi and the cousins had all shared much of the psychological profile he'd drawn up of the murderer. Franco and Paolo had both been manual workers. Neither seemed to have had any steady sexual relationships. Both had access to a van – which would be perfect for abducting victims and disposing of corpses. And they'd even lived and worked on the site where the bodies of Petrov, Novello and Valdrano had been found. But to Jack they didn't seem to possess either the expertise to kill efficiently, or the sadistic streak to want to burn women to death. Valsi on the other hand – well, he seemed to have those qualities in spades. Sylvia's voice caught his attention and drew him back to the briefing.

'Mancini. Tell us about Kristen Petrov – what's new on her?'

Claudio Mancini cleared his throat and tried to settle his nerves. He'd never spoken at a briefing in front of senior officers before. 'We've been to the call centre where she works – sorry, worked – and we've spoken to some of the girls on the sex lines. Seems that Bruno Valsi visited the centre with some of his thugs and removed the woman running it, Celia Brabantia. Our girl Kristen replaced her.'

Jack had questions. 'Any suggestions of a sexual relationship between her and Valsi?'

'Err, yes. One of the girls said that Kristen had bragged about seeing Valsi; she said that one day she would end up owning the sex centre.' He looked towards Sylvia.

She took up the story. 'The plan with Valsi is this – if necessary we will detain him for questioning in connection with the murder of Kristen Petrov. I know he'll walk, and probably quickly because we have nothing – I repeat nothing – to link him forensically to this killing, or to suggest a motive. But it may buy us time.'

Jack's attention drifted back to the whiteboards. Valsi certainly fitted his profile in the sense of being capable of immense violence, and no doubt enjoying it. The interview with his wife had confirmed Jack's suspicion that he was capable of anything, including murder.

And then there was that intriguing gap of five years. Five years in which no more women disappeared. Five years that Valsi spent in prison. But Jack had trouble believing Valsi had killed Kristen. He might have had her killed – that would be more his style – just as he'd had Alberta Tortoricci killed, but he certainly hadn't done it himself. And as for all the other missing women, the endless canvassing of family, friends and neighbours had failed to produce any link between them and Bruno Valsi. Not that many people expected anyone to say anything about one of the country's most notorious Camorristi.

Jack scanned the whiteboards one final time and hoped for inspiration. His mind was fogged by all the names and dates and twists. But the answer lay there in black and white. Valsi was involved somehow. He just had to figure out how big the some was and exactly what the how was.

Casonia, Napoli A cop on a retainer was the first to ring Finelli Capo Giotto Fiorentino, and tell him of the Don's murder. Seconds later, Fiorentino rang Ambrogio Rotoletti, his friend of thirty years, and woke him at his mistress's apartment in Casonia. Ambro took his cellphone and walked out into the corridor in his string vest and baggy white underpants. He was crying by the time he rang the third Capo, Angelico d'Arezzo.

'Angelico, it's Ambro. Listen, the shit's started…' He never finished his sentence. He took two bullets in the stomach before he even saw the shooter. A third bit a hole out of his heart. Blood spurted through the gaps in the string vest. He sank to his knees, then slumped on to his side.

Vito Ambrossio picked up the phone. 'Don Fredo's dead. So is that fat fuck Rotoletti, and within the hour you will be too.' He tossed the phone away.

The other end of the line was already empty. Angelico d'Arezzo woke his wife. She sat dazed in the marital bed they'd shared for a quarter of a century. Angelico pulled cases from the top of the oak wardrobe his parents had bought them as a wedding present and hurriedly emptied drawers into them. Within ten minutes they'd be gone.

Angelico had a stash of cash in a small villa in Greece. They'd go there and stay there. Maybe forever. Certainly until it had all died down. He was too old for gang battles. Too wise to think this war was winnable.

Meanwhile, Vito Ambrossio stepped over the corpse in the corridor. One Capo Zona down. Two more to go. Centro citta, Napoli They breakfasted at Rocco's, the place the Don had been eating at since he was old enough to buy his own food. Just an espresso for Mazerelli. Steak for Valsi. The new head of the Family didn't leave a scrap. Both Rocco, the owner, and Myletti, the chef, visited the table to check everything had been all right. Valsi told them it was shit. Said he wasn't Finelli and warned them he wouldn't eat their crap again unless it improved. He picked up the check. Surprised he'd even been asked to pay. Unaware the Don had always settled in full, plus a generous tip. 'And do you know what, Rocco? To make sure your food gets better I'm going to invest in your business.' He peeled a twenty off a roll. 'This covers the shit you served and gets me fifty per cent of your business. My friend Ricardo will be round with the paperwork.'