Lumaga said. “Now that we have the proof, we need to find experts who can advise us on the scope of rational possibilities for this phenomenon.”
“Besides aliens,” Odorico said.
“Now, the sub-lieutenant mocks me,” Lumaga said.
“I’ll make some calls,” Marcus said, “but I doubt we’ll find anyone who’s seen anything like this before.”
“That’s probably true, but my superiors will ask the question. I’d like to be able to hide behind a so-called expert. Anything else, Fabiana?” Lumaga asked.
“Your order to analyze CCTV files in the areas surrounding Villa Shibui is doomed to failure, I’m afraid. We don’t have any ideas about the vehicle that might have transported the girls. The team are looking for images of girls in the windows of cars or vans, but I’m afraid it’s going to be a big waste of time.”
“Also, probably true,” Lumaga said, “but it’s still necessary. Anything else?”
“Only this,” she said, pulling her tablet computer from its case. “The artist spent time this morning with the girls. We have her sketches of the Gray Man and the Gray Woman.”
“The best for last,” Lumaga grunted.
Marcus and Lumaga stared at the sketches, swiping through the images.
To Marcus, they were caricatures of the gray men from outer space that had been burned into the collective unconscious ever since the days of Roswell, New Mexico. Their bumpy skin was slate-gray. Their eyes were huge, dark ovals. Their ears and noses were nothing but membranous holes, their mouths, perfectly black spheres, no bigger than a golf ball with no visible teeth. Gray hands poked from white tunics, with four long fingers and a shorter thumb. It wasn’t possible to say which one was male, which was female.
An aide knocked and informed Lumaga that the press was assembled and waiting.
“What’s your plan?” Marcus asked.
Lumaga stood and adjusted his uniform. “I intend to lie a lot.”
9
Because of the large number of journalists, the press conference had to be done al fresco in the golden sunshine. The majority were from Italian media outlets, but there was a contingent of reporters from elsewhere in Europe and North and South America. Lumaga took to the podium set up in front of the entrance to the headquarters. He squinted into the afternoon glare and tapped his microphone to start the proceedings.
Marcus was standing off to one side next to Sub-Lieutenant Odorico.
He whispered to her, “Is he good at this?”
“Speaking to the media or lying?” she asked.
“Both.”
“He’s a good speaker,” she said. “I’ve never seen him lie.”
“My name is Major Roberto Lumaga, the commanding officer of the Carabinieri station in Reggio Calabria. I’d like to make a statement and then I will take a few questions. We can confirm that there has been a significant development in the case of the Andreasons, the American family who disappeared four years ago from their holiday villa in Filarete. The two girls, Victoria and Elizabeth Andreason, have been returned to the villa. Both of them are being evaluated by medical doctors at the Morelli Hospital. At this time, we have no information about the location or the fate of their parents, Jesper and Elena. The girls have obviously been traumatized and we are interviewing them slowly, in stages, so as not to put them under unnecessary stress. Their Italian grandparents and American grandfather are with them and are assisting in their recovery.”
So far, no lies, Marcus thought.
“We do not know where the girls have been these past years,” Lumaga said. “We do not know who abducted them. We do not know who returned them. This new phase of the investigation is at its earliest stages. We have a dedicated group of investigators, and I have been assured by my superiors and by the relevant ministers that we will have every resource we require to find Jesper and Elena Andreason, find the perpetrators, and bring them to justice.
“Please do not expect to hear from me like clockwork. When there are important developments, I will make myself available. Until then, I will be devoting myself to solving this case. Also, we insist you respect the privacy of the family. The girls, of course, are strictly off-limits and we anticipate that they will remain under the care of doctors for the foreseeable future. Their grandparents have told me that they have no intention of appearing before the media. Now, I will take a limited number of questions.”
Let the lies begin, Marcus thought.
There was a cacophony of shouts and hands.
“You there, in the blue shirt,” Lumaga said.
A florid reporter in the front held his pocket recorder on high and said, “I’ve just been told by a source in the hospital that the girls look exactly the same as when they were taken. Is this true?”
Marcus knew that Lumaga must have been anticipating the question. The case was as leaky as a colander. But the policeman seemed to be searching the clouds for his answer.
“I don’t know where you heard this. All I can say is that they are thin and their nutrition has, perhaps, been lacking. The doctors are paying a lot of attention to this.”
The reporter snuck in his follow-on before Lumaga could call on someone else.
“No, no, I’m sorry, but this is more than being thin. I have heard that they appear to be the same exact age as they were before.”
“I’ve already answered,” Lumaga said, pointing to a woman whose name he knew—a journalist at a local paper.
“Thank you, Major,” she said. “Have the girls said where they’ve been for the past four years?”
“They have made some preliminary statements, yes. However, since this is an active investigation, I won’t be commenting about that subject at this time.”
“Was a ransom paid?” he was asked.
“I can’t comment on that.”
A journalist from a popular true-crime television show based in Milan shouted over a newspaper reporter to say, “We have a source who says that both
