The Abduction: A Novel

by Jonathan Holt

Vicaro looked thoughtful. “Not Mia Cooper?”

  Piola put a photograph of Mia on the table. “Is this who you’re talking about?”

  Vicaro nodded. “Yes, that’s her. Mia Cooper.”

  Piola chose not to correct him. “How do you know her?”

  “Well, I don’t, not really.” For the first time, Vicaro seemed a little awkward. “That is, we met on a dating site. We had one date, but it didn’t go so well. We haven’t been in touch since.”

  “Where was this date?”

  “At a nightclub in Vicenza.”

  Already Piola could see that Vicaro was the sort of intelligent, educated man who would finesse his answers so as to show himself in the best possible light, and might well leave out important details in the process. He decided to give him a rapid push towards disclosure. “You took her to a swingers’ club. Do you know how old she is?”

  Vicaro blinked. “Twenty-one. I saw her ID when we signed in.”

  “She’s sixteen.”

  “Jesus!” Vicaro looked worried now. “But it’s not illegal, is it? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “That depends on exactly what you did.”

  “Because it was her who wanted to go there, you realise that? That was the whole deal.” Vicaro was talking quickly now, desperate for Piola to understand. “It was a special party for Carnevale. But they only let in couples, and she needed someone to go with.”

  “Why you?”

  Vicaro shrugged. “She liked my profile picture, I guess. And she trusted me.”

  “In what way?”

  “Not to hit on her. That was the arrangement.” He was still gabbling, but his eyes were steady as they met Piola’s. “I had to promise I wouldn’t touch her.”

  “You mean…” Piola was trying to get his head around this. “She recruited you to go to a sex club, but she made you promise that you wouldn’t have sex?”

  Vicaro nodded. “It seemed strange to me too. In fact, I thought she was just playing it safe, in case she didn’t like the look of me when we met, and that she’d change her mind once we got there. But it was no big deal to me if she didn’t. Places like that, there’s always more than any man can handle.”

  “And that’s what happened?” Piola said slowly. “You had sex with… others?”

  “Yes. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a nice-looking girl and I asked, but she knocked me back. So I thought: fine, you do your thing and I’ll do mine. What with the masks and everything, we lost touch – it was pretty busy in there. I looked for her at the end of the night, but she wasn’t around. I thought she must have decided the scene wasn’t for her after all.”

  “Her name’s Mia Elston, and she was abducted that night,” Piola said. “Her coat and phone were left in a locker at the club. I think you were angry that she’d led you on. So you followed her outside. Perhaps you’d planned it that way from the start.”

  Vicaro looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would I leave a club full of women who wanted to have sex with me, to go after the one person who didn’t?”

  Why indeed, Piola thought. “Have you heard of an organisation called Azione Dal Molin?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “So you never signed their petition to close the American base, or visited their website? We’ll check, you know.”

  “Political protests aren’t really my thing,” Vicaro said. Piola didn’t doubt it.

  “Where have you been since Saturday?”

  “First thing Sunday morning I went down to visit a new supplier in Sicily, a wine grower. I got back today.”

  “Can you prove it?”

  “Of course. I have receipts for petrol, autostrada tolls, my hotel room, the dinner with the grower…” Vicaro was opening his wallet, pulling them out as he spoke.

  Piola took him over his story one more time. But he was already certain Vicaro was telling the truth.

  “Just one more thing,” he added when the man was done. “What made you assume it was Mia we wanted to talk to you about?”

  “Oh.” Vicaro thought. “I suppose because of the website. I don’t usually meet girls on the internet – I find them in bars, or clubs, or just wandering about. But recently I’ve been working hard, travelling a lot, so I joined a couple of dating sites. But even those, you have to send girls messages, wait for them to get back to you, spend time chatting… The girls on those sites are looking for love, or at least for a boyfriend, so of course they choose carefully. Me, I was just after some fun. So I went on Carnivia – do you know it? It’s the website where you don’t have to say who you are unless you want to. There are different areas for everyone: singles, married people, gays, swingers; whatever you’re into. I went to a swingers’ chat room and saw there was a girl asking for someone to accompany her to the masked Carnevale ball at Club Libero. I sent her a photo, and we took it from there.”

  “And?” Piola asked.

  “A couple of days after Mia and I talked, I went back to the same chat room. I thought maybe I’d contact a few more girls and arrange to meet them too – not all at the same time, obviously, but over the next couple of weeks. Like I say, I’m busy, and it seemed an easy way to line up more dates. But when I went back, the message thread had disappeared. So I did a search, and it didn’t come up that way either. And then I tried typing in the actual page address. And that was even weirder, because I got this error message saying it hadn’t even been registered yet.”

  NINETEEN

  SHOWING MAJOR ELSTON and his wife the film of their daughter was one of the hardest things Kat had ever done. But even as she was doing it she felt the satisfaction that came from doing well something that most other people would find impossible.

  Am I a monster? Should I be crying too? Or is it good that I’m clear-headed and focused at times like these?

  She recalled the conversation she’d had earlier with Saito, when he’d phoned to tell her the Elstons wanted her kept on the investigation. “Which makes me wonder how they even knew you were coming off it. You’re trouble, Tapo.” But he’d said it without rancour, only a grudging admiration. “Since they like you so much, you get the shitty job of telling them what’s happened.”

  “Of course, sir. I’ll be glad to.”

  Well, “glad” might have been a slight exaggeration. As well as showing them the film, Kat had to explain that their daughter had been abducted from a swingers’ club. Her father had managed to sit through the video without breaking down – unlike his wife, whose animal howling had echoed round the house – but he flatly refused to accept that Mia would have gone to such a place voluntarily.

  “There must be some mistake. Either she was lured there, or she didn’t know what kind of club it was. She’s underage, for Christ’s sake,” he added furiously. “A child.”

  “Actually, the age of sexual consent in Italy is thirteen,” Kat said. “Fourteen, if one partner is several years older. Sixteen if a priest or teacher is involved, and eighteen for prostitutes. Club Libero operates an over-21 door policy, but that’s discretionary. And all the evidence we’re hearing suggests Mia went there of her own accord.”

  In response, the major only clenched his fists, visibly struggling not to hit something.

  It was Holly who said carefully, “Sir, I’m an officer’s daughter myself, and I grew up on a base very much like this one. Sometimes you can find yourself caught between two different cultures – between trying new things, and being the person your… the military wants you to be. So you do your experimenting in secret. My bet is that Mia didn’t go to the club for the same reason as the other patrons. I’m guessing that when she found out there was a place like that almost on her doorstep, it seemed different and exciting, and her curiosity simply got the better of her. Think of it as proof that she’s a brave, bright, curious young woman, not that she’s disrespecting you.”

  The major shook his head in disbelief.

  “There’s something else I need to inform you of,” Kat said. “It appears that Mia
’s kidnap is politically, rather than financially, motivated. But a kidnap protocol has been put in place, all the same.”

  “‘Kidnap protocol’? What’s that?”

  “If the kidnappers ask for a ransom, it’s illegal to pay it.”

  The major stared at her. “But that’s madness. We’ll pay anything, do anything…”

  Kat shook her head. “That would leave you open to prosecution. And to prevent it, your bank accounts have been frozen.”

  “But… how do we buy groceries? Food?” the major said, stunned. “How do we live?”

  “You’ll be given a small allowance by the state. I must warn you not to try to circumvent this system. It’s for everyone’s good, and the penalties for ignoring it are severe.” It was true that the number of kidnaps in Italy had fallen dramatically since kidnap protocols had been introduced, but she thought it better not to mention the tragedies that had also occurred, when criminal gangs had assumed that people who were desperate enough would somehow find a way round them.

  “Civilian Liaison will make sure you have everything you need,” Holly said quietly.

  “And I’ll need to take Mia’s laptop,” Kat added. “Our specialists will look for anything on it that might be relevant.”

  Major Elston shook his head. “There’s nothing there. Only homework and emails from friends.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  He hesitated. “I was… keeping an eye on it.”

  “In what way?” she said, puzzled.

  He fixed her with a steady look. “I installed some software that monitored her internet use.”

  “You mean, like a filter?”

  “This is more thorough than a filter. It actively scans for questionable activity and sends me daily reports, or alerts me in real time if anything untoward is happening. If necessary, I can see everything she’s seeing, watch what sites she visits, read her messages…”

  Kat was too surprised to respond. Holly said, “Was Mia aware you were doing this?”

  “She knows that unregulated use of the internet worries me, and that I’m a responsible and pro-active parent. But I never specifically shared with her that I was monitoring what she did online.” He caught Kat’s expression. “There are dangerous people out there, Captain. So-called friends who aren’t really who they seem. Sites dedicated to explicit materials, gambling, subversive philosophies. And then there are the security implications. Imagine if a teenager mentioned online that her father’s unit was being deployed to a particular country. That information could be useful to America’s enemies.”

  “You could have talked to her about the dangers,” Kat said. “Explained how to stay safe.”

  “I did. The software was just a backup. And in the event, it was never necessary. Her online activity never gave me any cause for concern.”

  “Nevertheless, we’ll need the laptop,” Kat said firmly. “Yours too, if you have logs of the sites she’d been visiting.”

  Upstairs, as they bagged Mia’s computer, Holly said, “You think he was being overprotective, don’t you?”

  Kat nodded. “Yes. But it’s more than that – I think he’s got it completely wrong, somehow. Remember what Toomer said? Mia was teasing him about explicit things she’d seen on the net. Then there was her Carnivia account. And it’s a fair bet she found Club Libero online too, just like Daniele did. If her father was using spy software, how come he didn’t pick up on any of that?” She gestured at the computer. “Somehow, whatever’s on here must be part of it.”

  TWENTY

  AFTER SHE’D MADE the film setting out the kidnappers’ demands, they took her back to her cell. On the mattress was her reward: a plate with some bread and a piece of cheese.

  Harlequin had watched her eat, then taken the plate away. “Rest,” he’d ordered.

  She’d tried, but there were too many thoughts going through her head. So now she knew why she’d been kidnapped: because of the new base, Dal Molin. She was aware that it was a contentious issue with some of the locals – the walls surrounding Camp Ederle were covered in graffiti about it, and the bigger demonstrations and rallies got a paragraph or two in The Outlook, the base newsletter – but she’d assumed it was only a small minority who cared one way or the other. Most of the Italians she met seemed really friendly.

  All the same, the discovery gave her hope. She had an idea that if they’d been asking for a ransom, it might have been more difficult; she knew the Pentagon didn’t pay out for kidnaps, in case it encouraged others. And her own parents were hardly wealthy. But her captors, it seemed, just wanted some kind of local referendum. That, surely, was no big deal – no one could object to a democratic vote, could they?

  But even as she thought about it, she realised that was precisely why the authorities might not like it. She didn’t know much about Italian politics, but presumably being forced into a democratic exercise by what was effectively a terrorist group would be a humiliation for the government. And if a majority voted for the Americans to leave, it would create a problem for both countries. America would have to ignore the wishes of the host nation’s citizens, which in turn would fan the flames of the protest for years to come.

  Far easier, perhaps, just to leave her here.

  She wondered if the kidnappers were prepared for that. It seemed like they were prepared for most things.

  The chain rattled at the door of her cell. It was Harlequin, beckoning her.

  “Come.”

  As directed, she walked into the larger room, where she stopped short at the sight of a rope, hanging over a thick roof beam. On the floor was a coil of hosepipe that also hadn’t been there earlier. Bauta stood to one side, watching.

  “Move.” Harlequin pushed her, making her walk to where the rope was. When she was in position he said, “Take off your clothes. All of them.”

  Startled, she didn’t react immediately, and he shouted furiously, “The prisoner will remove her clothes.”

  She did as he ordered, trying not to look at either of them. When she was finished he produced the handcuffs he’d used on her before. “Wrists.”

  Obediently she held up her wrists for him to cuff, although her heart was racing.

  He tied the rope to the short chain linking the handcuffs, then reached for the other end, pulling on it to raise her hands until they were above her head. Then he tied the free end to a bolt in the wall.

  The flash of anger she’d witnessed when she’d been slow to obey him had vanished now. He seemed calm – almost, she thought, as if he were deliberately steeling himself for something.

  He said stiffly, “I regret that this is necessary.”

  He turned and gestured to Bauta to start recording.

  DAY TWO

  TWENTY-ONE

  AT PRECISELY 4 A.M. all known members of the Azione Dal Molin protest group were roused from their beds. Their computers and phones were seized, and their partners and families told to leave so that search teams could take apart their homes.

  The suspects were brought back to the Carabinieri headquarters. Because there were so many of them, the interviews were still going on at 9 a.m. when Saito went into the press conference.

  Flanked by the prosecutor on one side and Mia’s parents on the other, he read out a short statement. A teenage girl, the daughter of an American officer based in Vicenza, had been abducted. A group calling itself Azione Dal Molin, which had recently come to the attention of the Carabinieri in the context of another investigation, had claimed responsibility. All known members of the group had now been taken in for questioning.

  Saito looked around the room, confident that everyone there understood the implications of what he was saying: the Carabinieri had acted swiftly and decisively. “Needless to say, this is a very fluid situation, against an enemy who is not afraid to use terror tactics on an innocent victim. However, the Carabinieri remain confident of an early arrest, and of course Mia’s safe return.”

  Holly, sitting just behind Major Elston
and his wife, translated the general’s words for them. They seemed almost mesmerised by the barrage of flashes from the photographers’ cameras.

  Saito paused. “Although there are no indications that Mia has been harmed, I should warn you that this film is not pleasant viewing.” He turned to the screen behind him and nodded to a technician to start the video.

  The Elstons had their backs to the screen, as did Holly, so it was only when she saw the shock on Saito’s face that she realised something was amiss. She looked round.

  The film they’d seen yesterday had started with Mia in the van, hooded and bound. But it was a different image that was on the screen now. Mia was standing. Her shackled arms had been pulled over her head by a rope attached to the ceiling, forcing her up onto her toes. She was naked.

  A crude caption appeared:

  NUDITY IS USED TO CAUSE PSYCHOLOGICAL DISCOMFORT, PARTICULARLY IF AN INDIVIDUAL, FOR CULTURAL OR OTHER REASONS, IS ESPECIALLY MODEST.

  The picture held on Mia shifting her weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other. Another caption appeared:

  THE WRISTS ARE SHACKLED TO A BAR OR HOOK IN THE CEILING ABOVE THE HEAD FOR PERIODS RANGING FROM TWO OR THREE DAYS CONTINUOUSLY, AND FOR UP TO TWO OR THREE MONTHS INTERMITTENTLY.

  The film cut back to Mia. A figure wearing a Harlequin mask entered the frame from the left. He was holding a hose. As water gushed from the end, he sprayed Mia with it, causing her to shriek in terror and shock.

  THE MINIMUM PERMISSIBLE TEMPERATURE OF THE WATER USED IN WATER DOUSING IS 41°F, THOUGH YOU HAVE INFORMED US THAT IN PRACTICE THE TEMPERATURE IS GENERALLY NOT BELOW 50°F SINCE TAP RATHER THAN REFRIGERATED WATER IS GENERALLY USED.

  Holly turned to the Elstons, who still hadn’t looked round. “Sir, Mrs Elston, you need to come with me,” she said urgently. “Now.”

  The major took one look at her face, then put his arm around his wife and bodily pulled her to her feet. “Follow Boland.”