“Every time the vehicle goes on or comes off a motorway, it is electronically logged. That means once Pernazzo takes a road out of the city, we’ll know, and we’ll also know which one,” said Principe. “The ICT unit in Tuscolana is monitoring the numbers now.”
“Immediately? The vehicle passes a toll point, they see the ID flash up on their screens and call you?”
“No. It takes almost an hour to process the numbers. It’s not us that’s slow, it’s the mainframe to which the electronic toll gates are connected. But I’ve also alerted the highway police.”
“I didn’t know you could get a vehicle ID from a Telepass device,” said Blume.
“You can’t,” said Principe. “But the device has to be associated with a credit card or bank account number. In this case it’s a bank account number held by RAI. We checked with RAI, and they were able to associate the device ID to Di Tivoli’s expense account.”
“We?”
“Me, then. It was my idea.”
“That was good. But suppose he doesn’t take a motorway?”
“Then it won’t work,” said Principe. “But he has to take a motorway sooner or later. It would make it easier if we knew where he was headed. Have you any idea?”
Blume shrugged. “He should be trying to get out of the country. If I were him, I’d be driving towards the sea.”
“We checked to see if he has any other properties he might try to use as a safe house. Nothing in his name, or his mother’s name. No brothers or sisters. Some cousins in Australia. We’ve been looking through his apartment, but the guy’s best friends seem to be computer avatars, gambling sites, Helen Duval…”
“Who?”
“A porn diva. I was certain you’d have heard of her. Also, we’ve already checked Alleva’s place in Rome, and Massoni’s, just in case he thought he could hide out there.”
“You’ve connected Pernazzo to that crime scene already?”
“No,” said Principe.
“But you think it was him?”
Principe hesitated. “Half an hour ago I got a phone call from Innocenzi.”
Blume stayed silent. There was something inevitable about hearing the name again.
“What did he tell you?”
Principe ran the palm of his hand up his face, finally pushing off his spectacles, and said, “He didn’t tell me anything. He asked questions. Asked if the police know the probable whereabouts of the man who had killed Clemente.”
“The concerned citizen,” said Blume. “Do you think someone has tipped him off?”
“That we’re looking for Pernazzo? Maybe. Where Pernazzo is, no. We don’t know that ourselves yet,” said Principe.
“No, we don’t,” said Blume, an idea beginning to form in his mind. “So everyone is coming round to my idea that Pernazzo is the person we want?”
“Sometimes you act as if Alec Blume is the only man in town who knows where the bad guys are,” said Principe. “I can maybe find a good legal argument for coming in the window after being thrown out the front door on the Clemente case, but the finest argument won’t do me or anyone any good if the whole thing collapses into a heap of recriminations.”
“But you think it will collapse? With all this evidence?”
Principe sighed. “It’s messy. But if we don’t step on anyone’s toes, then we’ll get Pernazzo for Brocca’s murder at the pizzeria. We don’t need Pernazzo for the Clemente case.”
“Yes, we do,” began Blume, but Principe held up a calming hand.
“I said we don’t need Pernazzo for the Clemente case, not that we don’t need the Clemente case for Pernazzo.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“The Clemente case is still off-limits for us. In the end they’ll have to convict Pernazzo, but that’s up to them. Maybe they’ll have to recognize his responsibility for the killing of Alleva and Massoni, but we get him for the killing at the pizzeria, and now for trying to kill you. Is that OK by you?”
“I don’t want him getting off for anything.”
Principe lowered his voice, “All the rest will come out during the trial. I guarantee it.”
“Why not now?”
“The wheels of justice turn slowly. The case will take a long time coming to trial. By then, interest will have died down. And a general election held.”
Blume touched a new bruise on the side of his face. “There is nothing political about Pernazzo. He’s psychopathic. We never get dumped on for psychopaths. If anything, it’s the opposite. Everyone suddenly remembers they need the police and the magistrates. Even the politicians have to pretend to appreciate magistrates for a day or two. Society rallies around and remembers it exists. Everyone’s happy.”
“With Pernazzo out there killing people, Clemente becomes a random murder. Before Pernazzo appeared on the scene, it looked like Clemente died for an ethical cause. Your version of events makes it less clear-cut.”
“That’s nice: my version,” said Blume.
Principe relaxed his shoulders and looked directly at Blume. “Alleva’s role as the main bad guy was helped a lot by the fact he, directly or indirectly, got a cop killed.”
“I get that,” said Blume.
“But when you complicated the story with talk of this new person, Pernazzo, it was almost as if you were exonerating Alleva in some way. That’s one reason you were not getting the full support of your colleagues. It is as if Pernazzo was somehow your problem. I know that’s not the case, but there is a psychological element at play here. Especially after the death of Ferrucci. I am not condoning this, and as the magistrate in charge of the investigation into the random killing of Brocca, I shall do everything in my power to bring the perpetrator to justice. What I cannot afford to do is insist on investigating Pernazzo for the Clemente case. That will come out eventually, but it will be the decision of the judge in charge of preliminary inquiries, the chief prosecutor, the court, even the magistrates’ council. But it is a decision for other people to take later.”
“He tried to kill me… and my woman.”
“Ah, so she was there, your woman.”
“Fuck it, Filippo, stop playing games. She was there. She saved my life. But she prefers to be left out of this.”
“Fine. Are you so sure she’s ‘your woman’?”
“What that’s supposed to mean?”
“An irrelevance,” said Principe. “Pernazzo. He’s-how can I put this-he’s like a leftover piece from a completed jigsaw puzzle. It would be good if we could just throw out the extra piece. If someone were to get to Pernazzo first, then the full truth would never be known, but I suppose justice could be achieved nonetheless. Also, I’d say your efforts were due some recognition.”
Blume’s mobile rang. He looked at the screen to see who it was, but the ID had been withheld. He answered anyhow.
“Aha! My favorite American policeman,” said Innocenzi’s voice. “I was on this side of town, and I thought I’d pick up a few pastries from De Pedris for after mass.” He dropped his voice, low, confidential. “Better a day-old De Pedris pastry than a fresh one from the rat hole near my house.” He continued, “When I realized where I was in the city, I wondered if by any chance business might have brought you to the court house, which I can see from where I am sitting. By happy coincidence, I catch you there. De Pedris does this fine coffee with chestnut foam-know it? You deserve one after the shock you had this morning. Also, there’s a thing I was wanting to ask you. Just you, mind, and no one else.”
52
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1:45 P.M.
