She made the signal. She paused. She made the signal again. Where was he? Would he have heard it? She pressed the button, the same rhythm.
The excitement ran in her. It was her power…
She went to the bathroom, washed and peed, and back in her room she undressed. The pulse tone she had sent, three times, was her power
…
For a moment she held the bear close to her, as if the bear should share the excitement that was hers because of the power. She switched off the bedside light. She lay in the darkness. Trying to stay awake, hearing sounds in the kitchen, hearing the flushing of the lavatory, hearing the children going with Angela to their rooms, hearing the indistinct murmur of the voices. Trying to stay awake, and drifting, with the finger resting on the button of her wrist- watch, and drifting further, as if the excitement exhausted her. When she drifted, she dreamed. When she came through from each dream, sporadic, she jerked herself awake and killed each dream and looked at the fluorescent face of her watch. Ten o'clock coming, and eleven, and midnight, and the dreams were harder to kill, and she drifted faster, further.
She dreamed of the young man in the newspaper photograph with the throat cut and the blood spread, and of the story that Benny had told, and of the helicopter.
She dreamed of the shadow in the doorway, and of her door closing.
She dreamed of the hovering helicopter and the men in balaclavas, and of the soft-shoe shuffle in the corridor, and of Axel Moen standing under the trees beyond the beach sand… Charlie slept.
'What time is it?'
'It's thirty minutes on from when you last asked.'
'What the hell's she at?'
'You want me to go to the door, wake the house, request to speak to her, then ask her?'
'She sent the Stand-by.'
'She sent the Stand-by. She has not sent Immediate Alert, nor has she sent Stand Down.'
'It is six hours since she sent Stand-by.'
'Correct, Axel, because it is now three o'clock, which is half an hour after we last had this discussion.'
'Don't understand it.' 'What I understand, Axel, I am quite pleased that I did not call out the heroes of the carabineri. Overtime, the need for a report, I am very pleased.'
'I'll kick her butt.'
'She will be very bruised. You said that half an hour ago, and an hour ago.'
'But, it is just goddam unprofessional.'
'Exactly, Axel. Because she is not a professional.'
They sat in the car. The last of the discos had long closed, the piazza bars had shut, the kids on the motorcycles and the scooters had roared away into the night. Mondello was emptied. The street where they were parked, off the piazza and a block from the shoreline, was deserted. Axel took a Lucky Strike from the packet and swore under his breath and passed the packet to 'Vanni and 'Vanni took the last cigarette from the packet. The match flashed in the interior of the car.
'That sort of settles it, doesn't it? I mean, I'm not goddam sitting here without cigarettes.'
Axel crushed the empty packet. He dropped it on the floor beside 'Vanni's finished packet and beside the squashed wrapping of the pizzas they'd eaten. They smoked.
They eked out their cigarettes until their fingers burned. They dropped their cigarettes through the open windows.
'What do you think?'
'I think, Axel, that we go to bed. You are angry?'
'I'll kick the butt off her.'
'I think – you know what I think? I think, and you will not love me,' 'Vanni grinned wide. 'I think you care, and I think you are very frightened for her.'
'I'll kick her so's my foot hurts.'
There was only the night duty officer as company for Harry Compton.
In a mood of stubborn anger he had telephoned Rome, and been told by Alf Rogers that the report was coming, but late that night, and he said that he would wait on.
There was a phrase the commander liked to use, something about the primary work of S06 being 'putting faces to illegality', a phrase recited to visiting politicians and bureaucrats. In front of the detective sergeant, on his desk, was the source of that stubborn anger. A camera at Heathrow had put a face to illegality. Italian passport-holder Bruno Fiori, seven hours earlier, had passed through Terminal Two, Heathrow. The photograph, taken by a camera on a high wall bracket, showed him presenting the Italian passport at the emigration desk, and the order that the holder of that passport should not be delayed, not be quizzed, not be made aware of any investigation, had been most specific. The bastard had gone through, without let or hindrance, to his flight. The photograph showed a smoothly handsome man, well dressed, relaxed, and the bastard should have been in the interrogation rooms or in a cell.
A bell rang. The bell was piping and sharp. The night duty officer was pushing up from his chair, but Harry Compton waved him down and back to his newspaper. He hurried through to Miss Frobisher's office, abandoned and left pristine for the morning.
The message churned from the printer. He read…
TO: Harry Compton, S06.
FROM: Alfred Rogers, DLO, British Embassy, Via XX Settembre, Rome.
SUBJECT: MARIO RUGGERIO.
DOB. 19/8/1934.
POB. Prizzi, western Sicily.
PARENTS. Rosario b. 1912 (still living) and Agata b. 1913 (still living).
Their other children – Salvatore b. 1936 (imprisoned), Carmelo b. 1937
(mentally subnormal), Cristoforo b. 1939 (murdered 1981), Maria b. 1945, Giuseppe b. 1954 (see below).
FAMILY. Married Michela Bianchini (from LCN Trapani family) 1975.
Salvatore (s) b. 1980, Domenica (d) b. 1982. Living now in Prizzi.
DESCRIPTION. Height 1.61 metres. Weight (est.) 83 kilos. Blue eyes. No surgical scars known of. Believed of heavy and powerful build (no photograph for 20+ years, no positive sighting in that period). Not known whether dark-brown hair now greyed or dyed, also nk whether wears spectacles routinely.
He carried the sheets of paper back to his desk.
'Like a mug of coffee, squire? Just making one for myself.' The night duty officer was folding away his newspaper.
'No, thank you.'
BIOGRAPHY. Formal education, elementary school, Prizzi, 1939-43.
Travelled with his father – contraband lorry driver. 1951 – convicted of attempted murder, Court of Assizes, Palermo (victim alleged to have denied him 'sufficient respect'). In Ucciardione Prison alleged to have strangled two fellow prisoners, no witnesses, no evidence. Released 1960, having become sworn Man of Honour. Not arrested since. Charged in absentia with murder, narco trafficking, much else. Believed FBI/DEA have sufficient evidence for indictment in USA. An ally of Corleonesi (Riina, Provenzano, etc.), but thought to have maintained independence. In power struggle (post-Corleonesi arrests) indications that RUGGERIO is responsible for disappearance of Agrigento capo and most recent murder of Catania capo.
'You all right, squire? Sure you won't have a coffee? There's a sandwich here, missus always makes enough for a bloody tea party.'
'No, thank you.'
'Just asking. Only you look like someone's grabbed your goolies and given them a god-almighty twist. Didn't mean to interrupt…'
ASSESSMENT. Extraordinarily secretive, reputation of taking extreme care of his personal security, no successful wire taps, no documentation found. Has also tightened overall security of 'families' in LCN under his control, introduced cellular system, hence no recent information provided against him by the pentito (super-grass) programme. Seen by Italian authorities as ruthless killer.