by Bill Cariad
“Maria?”
Maria turned to the voice in the doorway where all this had begun for her, to see it now framing a tall and distinguished looking man with white hair. Anger briefly flared inside her. ‘I’m still making mistakes! I’m so wrapped up in thoughts I didn’t hear this one’s approach...,’ and then anger’s flame was extinguished as she saw the mix of emotions clearly stamped on the man’s face. She saw sadness and gladness, and she saw hesitation and hope. She instinctively knew that she was looking at the face of Claudio Canizzaro.
Maria smiled at him, it felt perfectly natural to do so, she was looking at the face of a man she thought her mother might have once loved, and she saw his own smile briefly competing with the rest of his troubled body language.
“Maria, my child, what is happening here?”
The proceeding passage of time was quickly consumed by a variety of converging actions within and around the building on the Via Del Moro. Attracted by the unexpected appearance of both medical and carabiniere forensics vehicles outside the arched double-doors, a small crowd had already gathered to watch the unfolding drama. Carried to the waiting ambulances were five bewildered and whimpering children, the ones who had survived their ordeal at a price. Carried also was the sixth child, the one who was silent because she had not survived and had paid with her life. In defiance of the officer commanding the forensics team, this last child was carried by a stone-faced Sabbatini who had refused to leave the infant where she had been found. In retaliatory mode, the officer leading the forensics team had ordered everyone out of the crime scene containing three bodies shrouded by curtain material, and, together with Canizzaro, Maria had been sequestered in a room which had obviously served as a kitchen area for the people normally staffing the building. She used the opportunity to slake her thirst with water from a tap.
“This is a dreadful business, Maria,” said a now grey-faced Canizzaro. “You saw those children. How could anyone do...? ” He stopped, clearly unable to continue.
Maria found a glass in a cupboard, filled it with water from the tap, and gave it to the man she could see was visibly struggling to come to terms with everything he had seen. She certainly didn’t think any less of him for that; she was still struggling herself for the same reason. Along with other reasons she couldn’t really mention to him.
“In a world offering many forms of evil,” she replied, “there will always be men who are prepared to partake of them. But I think the ones who use children for their evil ends are the very worst of the cesspit.”
Maria saw him regarding her with narrowed eyes and a quizzical expression.
“Such a profound statement from one so young,” said Canizzaro.
“Did you expect flippancy?” she quietly responded.
“No, No,” he said quickly, “and I did not intend to offend.”
“No offence taken,” she assured him, “nor intended by me either,” she added.
“We meet one another for the first time,” he said, “in circumstances neither of us could have imagined possible. And it would appear that we’ve both taken that carabiniere Capitano by surprise. He wasn’t expecting me to be here so early and is still annoyed, I think, that my flight departure time from London was changed. But I don’t know why he seems so... so concerned looking about you, my child. He wasn’t very clear on things before we were hidden away in here. I wonder what happens now?”
Maria couldn’t give him an answer to that. She too was wondering about the immediate future. She had seen the disgruntled forensics officer and was unsure how this was all going to end for her. Canizzaro had closed his eyes, she saw, and she was glad of the chance to think without interruption. She had plenty to occupy her mind. Some time passed in mutually contemplative silence. Then as if each of them had sensed the wrong kind of atmosphere building between them, they were both once more cautiously feeling out one another with words when the door of the room opened and Sabbatini was standing before them.
“Sorry you’ve both been kept waiting,” he began, politely pitching his words between them and thus taking Maria completely by surprise. “I wanted to ensure,” he went on, “that the children’s parents were contacted before coming to see you both.” He looked at Canizzaro, grimacing as he added, “And the Press have arrived, and needed to be briefed.”
“What I’ve told the Press,” said Sabbatini, “included the fact that you were out of the country whilst your premises were being used for illegal purposes. They know you are entirely blameless, but it would probably be a good idea to make your own statement before you leave here. That way you’ll stop any wild speculation becoming something more damaging.”
Maria saw Canizzaro’s body straighten with his firmly voiced response.
“Thank you, Capitano Sabbatini. I will follow your advice of course. I will make a statement, but I am not sure what I can say. This is all so... so... monstrous, and for what purpose? ”
“I’ve only just been made aware,” replied Sabbatini, directing his eyes and words to Canizzaro, “of what has been going on here. And I regret the fact that you will undoubtedly find the subject matter distressing. Ricardo Brantano has been talking, and it appears you were about to lose two hundred million dollars worth of art treasures to a Mafia and Chinese Triad consortium.”
Maria saw the surprise smack Canizzaro’s face, and saw the disgust on Sabbatini’s as he continued speaking.
“The children were apparently taken as part of a side-deal between a New York Mafia family and a Hong Kong Triad, and, as you know, are the reason we were here in the first place.”
Sabbatini ran a hand through his hair as he continued, “We now know the names of those who escaped from here today, and two of them have been here before apparently. Brantano has confessed to participating in child abuse several times here in the recent past. He says that a Luigi Rinaldi killed another child here, a runaway he says, and that an accomplice named Carmine Forza disposed of the body. Those two are from New York and we’re looking for both of them as I speak. But I’m not confident we’ll find them in Italy. We’ve also identified Forza as the man we think killed a young reporter here in Rome. The Press only know about the attempted robbery, and that six children were taken by criminals to be sold on to the kind of scum who trade in child pornography. They also know one of the six died here. So, bearing all that in mind, your own statement should be worded with care. Don’t over-feed the lions, Signore Canizzaro.”
Maria saw the dark brown eyes staring directly into her own as the carabiniere officer continued without pause, “Signore Woodham has also been talking, so I now know you killed a man, Signorina Orsinni.”
Maria now saw shock on Canizzaro’s face, but couldn’t read Sabbatini’s as he resumed, “But I also now know that you killed in self-defence, and that the creature who fell to your knife fully deserved to die.”
Into the pause following his words, Maria saw the ghost of a smile on Sabbatini’s face as he quietly continued, “Which is why, Maria Orsinni, I am overlooking the fact that you compromised a crime scene by removing both your knives.”
Maria saw the broadened smile suddenly transform his face as he kept talking, “Which I imagine are now safely sheathed in that interesting bra of yours.”
Fingering the zip of her tunic-top, Maria remembered Sabbatini’s earlier narrow-eyed scrutiny as she had stood before him in a daze. She gifted him a tentative smile now, but said nothing. Her father’s other often repeated mantra sounded inside her head. ‘You can talk to the moon my child, you can even talk to the trees, and, if you must, you can talk to your priest. But you must never talk to the carabiniere’ Maria remained silent; she was too tongue-tied to talk to anyone right now.
“Involving you,” resumed a still smiling Sabbatini, “a twenty-one year old female who just happens to be the daughter of Giovanni Orsinni, arriving for your first day at the office an
d killing a man before you had even sat down, would send the Press into a frenzy.”
Maria saw the smile replaced now by a serious expression as Sabbatini continued, “But it would serve no useful purpose, and would deflect attention and resources away from where I want both to be. One major crime has been thwarted today, and all the Press need to know is that three criminals have died during a clash with the carabiniere. But other more serious crimes must now be answered for. Five sets of parents will be reunited with their now seriously damaged children, and other parents will be mourning their loss. The carabiniere now have dangerous animals to catch, and that’s where I want the focus to be.”
“I don’t see,” said Canizzaro, “how anyone could disagree with your sense of priority.”
Maria kept her face expressionless, but her thoughts were racing. She realized that Canizzaro had been relieved to hear that she wasn’t being arrested, but she figured his relief was probably stemming from the fact that he somehow held himself responsible for her having been here in the first place. Her own relief, washing through her mind as she stood here, was for quite different reasons. She had feared the worst from the moment Sabbatini had said he knew she had killed a man. She was looking at the carabiniere officer now through different eyes. On the back of all her father’s dire warnings, she had always seen the carabiniere as men to be avoided at all costs. Since Sabbatini was one of them, and a senior one at that, she had imagined him seizing the gifted chance to charge her with murder. She had imagined carabiniere attempts to link Giovanni Orsinni, and the Bartalucci family by association, to everything which had been going on in this building. It would seem, thought Maria now, she was learning another lesson today.
“I would recommend,” began Sabbatini, addressing Canizzaro with another facial grimace, “that you make your Press statement immediately. The sooner we get them out of here, the better.”
Maria saw him pause briefly to glance in her direction, and saw him smile.
“I would also recommend that Signorina Orsinni stay in here out of sight. Some of them would probably recognize her, and their conclusions would simply complicate matters.”
“Agreed on both counts,” said Canizzaro, nodding as he spoke.
“When you’ve made your statement,” resumed Sabbatini, “I will need you to stay on the premises for a while. My officers may need your help to check a few things. Perhaps you could arrange for some of your staff to come in?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Canizzaro, turning now to Maria, “Will you be all right, my child?”
“I’ll be fine,” Maria assured him.
“Let’s get rid of the media,” said Sabbatini.
Maria watched Sabbatini lead a thoughtful looking Canizzaro from the room. When the door closed behind them she flicked off the light switch and moved to the small window near the sink. She carefully drew aside the curtain a little, and saw that she had a partial view of the courtyard which was crowded with uniformed carabiniere. The waiting journalists were identified by their yellow Press cards pinned to hats or jackets, and the opened notebooks they held ready to record the spoken word. Using the curtain as a shield, Maria released the window catch and eased open the window enough to allow sound to reach to where she stood. She peered through a gap in the curtain, and watched and listened to the show.
Flanked by Sabbatini and the sergeant whose name she still didn’t know, an expectedly sombre looking Claudio Canizzaro gave his statement to the waiting Press contingent. Given the multiple shocks the man had received, Maria was impressed by the way Canizzaro coolly dealt with the questions which were fired at him when he had finished speaking. His composure never slipped, his voice never faltered, and she reminded herself now that he was probably used to handling himself under the spotlight of media attention. Eventually the satisfied media-pack left to meet their deadlines, and she heard Canizzaro say he was going in search of a phone he could use to summon those staff Sabbatini had suggested be brought in to help.
She waited for a short while, but nobody came to tell her she could leave this room. Deducing that she had been forgotten about, she ventured out into the corridor. A noise outside in the courtyard drew her attention, and she strolled out there to see that recovery vehicles were busy loading up the private cars which she had earlier bypassed to reach her target room. She went back inside, weaving her way through a melee of officialdom, and could see that she was being carefully ignored by everyone. Then, in the midst of this end-game she could see being played out seemingly everywhere in the Via Del Moro building, Maria spotted someone she recognized. It was the Englishman who had attacked the dwarf and punched out Brantano. He was comforting an attractive, but obviously upset girl. His daughter, she surmised.
Maria managed to snatch a useful few words from the Englishman before he and his tearful daughter were whisked away by the carabiniere to produce their own different forms of statement at police headquarters. So she now had more information about the mafiosi dwarf and pony-tail, and the surviving Chinaman named Wan Cheng-Jian. She checked her wristwatch. Three hours had elapsed since she had entered this building. She wondered when she would be able to leave it. She wondered where Canizzaro was. Disorientated now, she turned a corner which took her into another corridor. As she did so she was pondering the information she had been given by the Englishman. She was thinking about pony-tail, now believing she had briefly faced a master of both internal and external martial arts, realizing now that the projection of his powerful chi had been responsible for her paralysis.
Maria suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her wandering had brought her to the corridor housing the doorway behind which three hours ago she had struck her first killing blow. The door was closed. She knew the forensics team would still be in there, so she turned on her heel. But her thoughts were taking her back inside that room.
‘So it wasn’t just an untried Orsinni falling apart with shock when she went up against grown men, it was me being rendered powerless by means of a discipline I clearly don’t know enough about. I will probably never come up against pony-tail again, but that visit to the master Tanaka recommended remains an essential one to make.’
Feeling more positive, Maria retraced her steps until she regained her access to the enclosed courtyard. The carabiniere recovery vehicles had gone, along with their booty of private cars, and the arched double-doors to the street were closed. For the first time she had a sense of the peace offered by her surroundings. She began to relax for the first time since she’d breached this courtyard, and she suddenly felt hungry. She then forgot about food as Sabbatini appeared at her side. He was carrying two mugs of what smelled like coffee, and he handed one to her with a smile.
“I thought that, like myself,” he said, “you would be ready for this.”
“Grazie,” she acknowledged, “you’re a life saver.” She felt herself blush at what she had said.
“Which of course you may already have been,” she added now, “back there in that room.”
“So now we are even,” he replied, smiling, “It will be your turn again, two years from now.”
Maria returned his smile, but couldn’t think what to say. She sipped at her coffee.
“It’s the first time I’ve met Canizzaro,” said Sabbatini, “and given the circumstances, I’ve been impressed by the way he’s handling himself.”
Maria couldn’t think what to say to that either, and sipped some coffee again.
“Of course I’ve heard of him,” said Sabbatini. “A lot of people, people I do know, people not given to falsifying their opinion, say he’s a man to be respected.”
“I imagine,” responded Maria, determined to show this man she could string more than one sentence together, “he must earn any respect which is paid to him. That’s normally how it works with respect that’s worthy of the name.”
“Do you carry those knives everywhere you g
o?” he asked.
Maria rapidly switched her mental gears, sharply reminding herself she was in the presence of the carabiniere. “No, I do not. I spotted your watchers, and went back to my car for the knives.”
“Just as well you did,” he said. “We might have been carrying you out otherwise.”
Maria waited, expecting some form of official warning about carrying concealed weapons, but he was just looking at her with the sad looking smile she remembered he’d worn two years ago. She found herself admiring his physique, and knew she was blushing again.
“Canizzaro has told me why we found you here,” he said, before sipping his coffee.
Maria didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t be sure what Canizzaro would have said. Her thoughts were all over the place again, and she couldn’t understand why. Then he took her by surprise again.
“I must confess to you,” resumed Sabbatini, “that he took me by surprise.”
“He did?”
By way of response to her cautiously voiced question, Sabbatini surprised her yet again by stepping in close and holding out his free hand. Her reaction was automatic. She clasped it with her own free hand, simply expecting a handshake, but he raised her hand to his lips and she knew he could see her blush.
“I wish you well in your new life, Maria Orsinni,” he said, smiling as he released her hand. “Now you must excuse me, duty calls. Drink your coffee. I imagine you will be leaving soon.”
Maria just couldn’t seem to formulate any kind of reply, and he was gone before she even managed to bring her thoughts into some kind of order. She realized that already she was wishing that he hadn’t left, and felt herself blush again, and felt her thoughts spinning out of control again. She was saved from further confused thoughts on Sergio Sabbatini by the sudden appearance of a now tired looking Claudio Canizzaro. He came towards her with a smile on his face, and stopped beside her where she stood.