Sarai

by Lilya Myers

  “I honestly do appreciate it, but you didn’t have to go to all that. Really, I would have been fine. You know me. If I got cabin fever, I could have just walked over to that little marketplace we passed up the street from the hotel,” Rachel said.

  Sarah kept her thought to herself, exactly what I was afraid of.

  “Rachel, it’s partly for your own safety. A foreigner – a foreign female walking around by herself, who doesn’t know the language, doesn’t know the customs and culture, puts herself in a particularly dangerous position. Take my word for it. Women get gang-raped on buses here. Besides, it’s an honor to have the Minister of Tourism as your personal guide. So promise me, please, you won’t go off anywhere by yourself ? Kidnapping women and selling them into slavery is a profitable business here, too.”

  Rachel promised. She didn’t want to interfere with Sarah’s work by upsetting her, or causing her to worry.

  “You’ll love Luxor, too. I promise. We’ll take the overnight train back to Cairo from there and…the rest is a surprise!”

  “Now you’ve done it,” Rachel said. “I’m not going to enjoy a minute of anything unless you tell me what the surprise is, now! And I’ll make sure you don’t have a peaceful moment either because I’ll torture you until you tell me!”

  Sarah wasn’t planning to keep it a secret but she pretended she was.

  “Alright, alright, if you must know. As soon as we get back to Cairo, we get our bags and fly out to Naples – we’re going to Capri!!” Both girls let out a shrill scream in unison like two giddy teenagers.

  Sarah missed the Pyramid tour but Rachel’s enthusiasm and excitement made up for any guilt Sarah felt. Rachel couldn’t stop talking about the camel ride and how thankful she was that the Minister was there to bully the handler into letting her off the spitting and chewing beast. The few days they stayed in Egypt kept Rachel awestruck. The final tour in Luxor, which included the Valley of the Kings, the majestic temple complexes of Karnak, and the magnificent sunset views, left Rachel with the feeling that she was actually sad they were leaving.

  As they boarded the train back to Cairo late in the afternoon, she said solemnly, “Never in my life – really, Sarah, this has been amazing!”

  Sarah and Rachel nearly missed the last flight to Naples, nearly causing them to miss the last boat over to the island. It all worked out and so worth the minor inconveniences along the way. The next few days were heaven. As much as they missed everyone, it was hard to believe that they would be going home in a few days.

  But all things must come to an end. Come to an end they must.

  ***

  While the Chief was calling in the rest of the team assigned to the case to assemble in the briefing room, Russ and Joey got busy compiling the details. A few new facts were discovered, along with Detective Roma’s theory. What had been a blur was now starting to come into focus. The identity of the killer was still an enigma, but they were a hell of a lot closer than when the eleventh body was discovered. The body count was the way they measured time now.

  One by one, or in pairs, Detectives began filing into the briefing room. Paulie Catrone and Danny O’Connell followed behind the Chief. Others filled the room, with Mark Akroyd, the CSI, right behind them, hefting in a box. It was the first time for Gina Marchetti, profiler, to meet with the entire team.

  As soon as everyone was seated, the Chief stood up and ambled to the front of the room.

  “The new face in the room is Gina Marchetti. She was invited today because we believe this case is finally turning a corner. Ms. Marchetti’s credentials are unquestionable and her expertise in profiling is crucial as we move forward from today. With that, I’m going to hand this over to Detective Roma.”

  Before Russ and Joey left the Chief ’s office earlier in the day, Russ opened the envelope Paulie had handed him. It contained results from the lab. The material of the hijab, the headscarf, found on the murdered women were determined to have come from the same manufacturer, who just so happened to be located in Egypt. This alone was huge because it gave credence to Russ’s notion that the killer wasn’t the homegrown variety. Tracking down the buyer of the fabric would be impossible. No wonder they were coming up short on a print match. The guy had never been on their radar in the U.S. and quite possibly nowhere else, for that matter.

  Russ laid out the intelligence they’d collected so far, new information as well as lab results, and presented them in relation to the idea that they were dealing with a foreign serial killer on American soil. There were still lots of missing pieces but the ones they had were beginning to fit.

  He invited the profiler, Gina Marchetti, to give her take on what brand of maniac they were dealing with. Wackos were wackos across the globe. What made this killer different was factoring in a value system and culture so unlike any they had ever dealt with before. New York was a land of immigrants. Until recent years, they mostly migrated from European and Eastern countries. Their traits were already understood and woven into the fabric of the American society. Painting a portrait of this killer’s culture was new territory.

  “I can give you a general idea of what your perp might look like. Physically, he’s demonstrated strength and I’d say he’s very fit. Tall. Can’t give you much more in that regard. State of mind is another thing. Honestly, I’d like to do a little more research of my own with regard to mutilations. It behooves me to give you all my best analysis of who this guy is.”

  “Sometimes we get guys or female serial killers who fit well into a particular mold which gives us a good foundation for building the profile. However, your guy comes with a mindset that’s removed from our typical preconceptions of how the individual developed and evolved to commit such barbarism. I’m not going to separate any one aspect of his brutality today. Which I could do. But I won’t. That would only give you a hodgepodge of personality traits. While they may be highly accurate individually, collectively they may give you an entirely different picture. You need the most accurate assessment and I promise to give you that, without delay.”

  The typed report was distributed among the detectives in short order. Later, they would realize what a startling description the profiler gave of the monster they were trying to corral.

  CHAPTER 51

  THE KILLER RETURNED to Egypt. He hadn’t planned on coming back just yet but there was some other business he had to see to. The fact that it was the most successful deal he had made helped to tamp down his anger. The girls were young, beautiful virgins. They would bring a fortune. The rule he had set for himself in these ventures was unbroken. He never had nor would he ever touch one that was to be sold. There were plenty of others for that sport and decidedly, he had made Long Island his playground for that. To reward himself, he headed directly to the Gazeera Club in Zamalek for a couple of drinks before going home. The 150 acre multi-sport facility was home to elite membership since its founding in 1882. His membership gave him a place among the elite. He hadn’t informed anyone that he was returning, although he’d soon find out that there was one person aware of his activity.

  It was a sporting club, after all, which didn’t make his physique all that remarkable. There was a table in a far corner under some shade. One couldn’t be too careful in his business and one had to think on his feet. Being positioned where a trained eye could survey anything that seemed out of the ordinary was just plain common sense.

  Just as he raised the glass to his lips, a younger man came through the door. Red flags went up immediately. There was something about the man that didn’t fit. His demeanor alone was enough to trigger suspicion, at least for someone who was acutely aware of his need to be suspicious. There were a lot of vacationing Europeans who were members of the club and from what the killer could see, this man easily passed for being of European extraction. Except for his clothes. His outfit was too starched, too out of sync with what the typical foreigner would wear on a hot afternoon.

  The club was filling up, making it harder to find a table
but the man appeared to be looking for someone rather than a place to sit. The killer watched his mark intently through dark sunglasses. There was a nervousness about his stalker as he hastily found a small table with an umbrella across the lawn. As the man turned to sit, the killer made the connection. That face. I’ve seen it too many times, and not just here, to be coincidence.

  The killer stood at an angle and downed the rest of his drink. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that his subtle show of preparing to leave drew the attention of the other man. Every move was intentionally designed not to be obvious, yet at the same time wanting the younger man to pursue him. If he didn’t want to be followed, it would have been easy to lose him. But that wasn’t his plan.

  FBI agent Catello Vitielli, should have known that the subject he was following was making it too easy. His inexperience won out over sound choices. His desire to bring this guy in for trafficking girls into slavery would mean one big piece of trash out off the streets and a huge promotion. Most of all, it would position him to finally propose to Sarah.

  Catello and Sarah had been dating for a couple of years. He was handsome, smart, had an exciting job—what everyone thought a girl would want in a guy. When they first met, he was living in Manhattan. Sarah was preparing for the bar when Catello was suddenly transferred overseas.

  Their relationship limped along in that second year. They saw little of each other, and whenever they were together, it was almost like being with an acquaintance rather than a boyfriend. For Sarah, anyway. She was definitely attracted to him physically and Catello had an endearing personality. Those things just didn’t add up to love. And no matter what games she played in her head, she couldn’t envision a future together like most girls do when they know their guy’s the one. In fact, she was thinking about breaking it off with him. She wanted to confide in Rachel on several occasions when his name came up but decided to wait until they were back home.

  ***

  Russ was on his way home when the call came.

  “Roma, you gotta get your ass back over to the station – like right now…you’re not going to believe this –”

  “On my way.” Russ pushed end call before Joey could finish his sentence. Only one thing could excite Joey like that. The Mutilator. And it was something big. This could be the break they’d been waiting for and he wasn’t about to hear the news over the telephone. Traffic was light at that hour, giving him the space to quickly spin a U-turn. He stepped on the gas feeling as though the next ten minutes would seem like an eternity.

  Joey was waiting by the glass doors to the station as Russ came flying in. He held the door open, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Hey man, you hung up on me. My feelings are hurt,” he joked as the two of them speed-walked to the briefing room.

  “You’ll get over it.” Russ said with a smile. He was in predator mode. As they were about to turn the corner toward a restricted hallway, they nearly collided with Nina, the newspaper reporter. She was coming out of the ladies’ room. Alarm bells went off in the little reporter’s head. Her sixth sense for breaking news. She cleverly maneuvered to block their path.

  “Why the rush, fellas? Something I should know about?”

  “No,” the two detectives said simultaneously as they passed her and headed down the hall that was restricted to the public.

  “That’s okay,” she called out. “I’ll wait for you in case you change your mind.” Nina was on her tippy toes with her hand to her face as though that somehow helped to be heard better as they disappeared into a room.

  “We’ve been getting hits from California, upstate New York, and Connecticut through ViCAP. Look at these.”

  Joey summarized as Russ started skimming the reports. There were twenty-three of them, dating back some twenty years. All were cold cases. Every one of the women had been the victim of genital mutilation to different degrees and with different instruments. The breasts and eyes were intact. In each of those cases, the killer never brought his victim to death by the same method. The crime scenes were the murder sites, unlike the ones they were dealing with now. The killer, as it was believed, always tortured and murdered in some very remote area where the body wouldn’t be found for a long time, or not at all.

  There were too many variables to believe that the same person committed all those murders. None of the victims were related or knew one another. No definitive connection was ever drawn between the murders committed in California with the ones in New York, or for the ones within other states. They were mostly believed to have been copycat murders. By the time the bodies had been discovered, animals had already done too much damage to the corpses or the crime scene. In some instances, the body had simply degraded beyond useful evidence. There was only one autopsy report that came from one of the more recent murders. It had been found sooner than the others and suggested a fine needle mark to the neck.

  Russ slapped the table with the palm of his hand. “I’ll bet you anything this is our guy! I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s good for every one of these.”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far. But for two of the murders…” Detective Scenza said as he handed his partner the DNA reports…”there were two women murdered years apart, similar circumstances on two different occasions in the Oakland, California area. The detective who ordered the DNA tests was working cold cases. They were so swamped that nobody picked up the case when he retired and it kind of fell through the cracks. The samples they got were a one in a hundred million match to ours.”

  Listening with only one ear and absorbed by the information in front of him, Russ didn’t catch a word Joey said.

  “Hey – you listening’ to me?”

  “Yeah, sorry. What?” Russ asked.

  “Our lab confirmed. The DNA from California matches the DNA evidence we got off that son-of-a-bitch’s glove!”

  Russ’s head snapped up just as his phone jangled noisily. He wanted to ignore the call so he could bask in the biggest lead they’d had in this case but that would have to wait. He picked it up without looking at who the caller was. “Detective Roma.”

  “Russ, it’s Dan Somers. I’d never bother you like this unless it was something important. I apologize if I’m interrupting you.”

  “No apologies needed, Dan. What’s going on?

  “It’s Catello. Sarah’s boyfriend. I just got word. You’re not going to believe this. He’s been killed. Confirmed he was murdered –”

  “Murdered? Where? How? By whom?” Russ asked. His throat dropped into his stomach thinking about Sarah getting this news.

  “Look, news doesn’t travel through the same channels as it does here in the U.S. His body was dumped in the desert outside of Cairo. He was assigned to surveillance on a child trafficking ring in Holland. He hadn’t checked out of his hotel in Amsterdam. Seems he jumped on a flight to Cairo suddenly, without notifying his superiors. Sounds like he was onto something.”

  “But I’ll tell you Russ, I can’t believe he didn’t check in and get backup if it was important enough for him to up and leave.. I thought he had more sense than that,” Dan said with deep sadness in his voice. He cleared his throat.

  “That wasn’t like him,” Russ quickly said. He was trying to piece together possible scenarios in his head. “I wonder if he talked to Sarah – knew that the girls were going to switch gears and head to Capri. Maybe he wanted to see Sarah before they left? He told me a few weeks ago that all he needed was a promotion and he was going to ask Sarah to marry him.”

  “I know. He came to me and asked me for my blessing. He wasn’t sure when he would ask her but he wanted to have my permission signed and sealed. Sarah emailed Marie right before they left for Capri. She didn’t mention a word about Catello so I’m one hundred percent certain she didn’t see him. Anyway, it’s not something that would have slipped her mind,” Dan concluded.

  “I expect Rachel to be calling sometime. I don’t like to keep a secret like this but she shouldn’t find out over the phone tho
usands of miles away without everyone’s support. It’s only five days from now. There’s a lot of red tape before his body will be sent stateside. That could take weeks.”

  “It’ll be sooner than that. He was FBI, don’t forget. In any case, I’d like to be sitting in my living room with Marie when we break the news to Sarah, so please don’t tell Rachel until we do.”

  Dan took a long pause. Russ waited, hearing him take a deep breath. An uneasy feeling tingled in his veins.

  “There’s something else I want to talk to you about. It’s not to diminish what happened to Catello but I think this could help broaden the scope in your investigation.”

  “We’ve had some breakthroughs but believe me, I’ll certainly take anything you can offer.” Coming from Dan, Russ knew the information he was about to get was more than just speculative fodder. He was CIA, for cryin’ out loud.

  CHAPTER 52

  RUSS WAS HOPPING a plane to California, then on to Mexico, South America, Puerto Rico, Aruba, all in five days. Faxes and calls had been coming in and the team was processing everything as quickly as they could.

  He wished he could be home when Rachel arrived but the investigation was suddenly moving at warp speed. There was some conflicting DNA that had to be cleared up. Another good reason for making some personal house calls to the other police departments that had viable evidence he could use. He’d also been in close communication with Dan’s agent friend. And of course, Sarah was going to need Rachel close when she got the news about Catello.

  Sarah and Rachel were still in Capri, enjoying their unplanned vacation. There was so much beauty and so much to see that even Rachel didn’t balk at going on adventures instead of vegetating on the beach all day with a bucket of pina coladas. But now, the weather was beginning to cool and they were afraid they’d miss their chance to soak up the sun. Their marathon of sightseeing had gotten the best of them, too. It was time to relax on the beach.