Michael Morley - Spider

Massimo looked down at the letter again. 'I noticed that he spelt buon giorno correctly. Not many foreigners would do that. I think maybe he is an educated man.'

'He's certainly no fool. Check the letter again and you'll see that the grammar, spelling and punctuation are all correct,' said Jack. 'But I think there are two reasons why he is precise and so correct. Firstly, like I've said before, it's not that he's hugely intelligent, it's that he's hugely careful. BRK researches everything he does, meticulously. This guy probably looked up the spelling of buon giorno to make sure he didn't make a mistake. His whole attitude to life is to be careful, to plan, to avoid making that one slip-up that could end his freedom, and that's mirrored in this letter as well.'

'And the second reason?' asked Mass.

'His ego. This is a murderer with the biggest ego on the planet. If you could see egos, then we'd just hire a plane, fly around a bit and pull him in. It would be as easy as that.'

'Why so egotistical?'

'BRK would be mortified if he'd done something wrong and thought we were laughing at him, rather than him laughing at us.' Jack moved the paper closer to Mass. 'Here, look at this.' He pointed out the smiley face. 'Kids use these on e-mails, they draw them as symbols to express that they're happy in an uncomplicated, pure, childish way. The smiley is pretty much the first face a kid gets to draw. By using it, he's showing us that he has no respect for any of our values, and is happy to be seen as a threat to the most precious thing we have, our children. He's using the smiley as a form of intimidation. And now look at this.' Jack ran his finger under the line 'HA! HA! HA!' 'He's going to great lengths to mock us. Note the bold capitals again, and three exclamation marks. That's his way of saying, "I see you all as a joke, don't you get it?" And then there's this, the sickest of lines.' Jack's finger pointed to 'CALL IT A "HEADS-UP" OF WHAT I'VE GOT IN STORE FOR YOU!' The former FBI profiler leant back in his chair. 'He's warning us that he's going to kill again. Why?'

Massimo lit the cigarette, blew out smoke and considered his answer. 'It's a game. Maybe this whole thing is just one giant game for him.'

Jack blinked from the smoke wafting his way. 'You're right, and he wants to make certain that we'll play. I think he's here in Italy, and I'm a hundred per cent sure that he's going to kill again.' At the same time that Jack was meeting Massimo in Rome, American tourist Terry McLeod paid the taxi driver, moved his baggage off the dusty road and snapped the first of his holiday pictures, the outside of La Casa Strada.

'Sure is a pretty place,' he told Maria, as he bowled into the cool reception area and announced his arrival.

'We have you staying with us for just five days. Is that correct, Meester McLeod?' she said in the English that she hoped one day would be good enough to see her compete internationally as a beauty queen.

'That's right. Wish it could be longer. Never been to Tuscany before, it looks really fantastic.' He peered at her name badge. 'Tell me, Maria, are the owners of this place around? What're their names again?'

'Mr and Mrs King,' said the receptionist, struggling to understand him because he spoke so quickly. 'Mrs King is here, but not Mr King. Would you like me to call her for you?' She picked up the desk phone. 'Are you a friend from America?'

'No, no, don't do that,' he said. 'I'm sure I'll bump into them while I'm here. Lots of time to catch them, let it ride for now.'

Maria looked him over. He was about the same age as Mr King but nowhere near as tall or good-looking. He had a little fat belly that billowed beneath a pink Ralph Lauren polo shirt, like the one she'd hoped to buy her boyfriend Sergio. On closer examination, she noticed it had a thin brown stain running down the front of it, as though coffee or ice cream had dribbled from his machine-gun mouth and caught on his big stomach. 'May I have your passport, please?' she asked. 'And the credit card you wish to use to settle your bill? Breakfast is available until ten thirty and is included in your daily rate.'

McLeod handed over his passport and sized up the receptionist as she photocopied it. She was beautiful. He'd pay good money to have her sent up to his room along with a stack of beer and some decent air-conditioning. Man, Italy may be great on historic buildings but it sure sucked when it came to keeping things cool.

'Thank you,' said Maria.

McLeod smiled at her. 'How do you say that in Italian? Is it the same as in Spanish, gracias?'

'No,' said Maria sweetly, 'not quite. We say grazie.'

'Grat-sea,' he tried.

'Perfetto,' said Maria, deciding it would be rude to correct his slight mispronunciation. 'You are in the Scorpio suite,' she told him, taking a key from a set of hooks on the wall behind her. 'Please go straight down the corridor, here to the right of me, then first left and up some stairs, that's Scorpio.'

'Scorpio,' he repeated. 'Are all the rooms named after star signs?'

'Yes. Yes, they are,' said Maria, now growing tired of him and wishing he would go, so she could return to the magazine under her desk.

'How many are there? In total, how many rooms?'

Maria had to think for a moment. 'Six. No, eight. There are eight rooms in all.'

'Eight,' repeated McLeod, thinking for a minute of how he might be able to persuade the beautiful Maria to spend some time with him in one of them. Later. There would be time for that later. First though, he had a lot of planning to do. Business first – pleasure later.

Rome The Cristina Barbuggiani case conference was due to start at two p.m., but Massimo had insisted they took a leisurely 'catch-up' lunch at a restaurant around the corner, explaining that in Italy two p.m. meant any time before four.

The conference was being staged in a dedicated Incident Room and people were chattering loudly and pointing at whiteboards as Jack and Massimo entered. The Direttore introduced Benito, Roberto and the pathologist, Dottoressa Annelies van der Splunder. 'Orsetta Portinari I think you already know,' he said, suppressing the start of a smile.

'Very pleased to see you again, Mr King,' said Orsetta warmly.

'And you, Inspector,' said Jack, a little less enthusiastically. 'Forgive me,' he went on, turning to the pathologist, a tall, plumpish woman in her late thirties with straw-like short blonde hair. 'Your name doesn't sound particularly Italian.'

'You really are a detective,' joked the Dottoressa. 'I'm Dutch. Had the good fortune to fall in love with an Italian and moved here about seven years ago. I worship Rome; this is home for me now.'

'Jack and his wife are also Italophiles,' added Massimo. 'They have a small, but I'm told very exclusive, hotel in Tuscany.'

'Sounds gorgeous,' said the pathologist. 'You must give me details. My partner Lunetta and I are always looking for places for a long weekend away.'

'Lunetta?' interjected Orsetta. 'Lunetta della Rossellina, the fashion model?'

'Yes,' said the pathologist, pleased the name had been recognized. 'Lunetta's love is clothes, and mine is food and wine – as I think you can see.'

'Then Italy is perfect for both of you,' said Massimo diplomatically. 'Dottoressa, Jack has read your report, but I'm wondering if you'd be kind enough to update him on the conversation you and I had last night about Cristina's blood type.'

'Of course,' the pathologist said. 'Do you mind if we sit down? I need to get my glasses to go through some notes.'

The team gathered around a long, plain conference table made of beech and Annelies van der Splunder put on some round wire-framed glasses that Orsetta thought made her look half-headmistress, half-owl.

'The examinations I carried out were on the dismembered limbs, torso, stomach contents and head of a young white, Italian woman in her mid-twenties, who I now know was Cristina Barbuggiani, a citizen of Livorno. The dismembered body parts were delivered to me over a period of about a week, the poor woman's head being the last to arrive for my attention. The decapitated head gave me the most information, and from this I was able to ascertain that Cristina was AB Rhesus negative.'