“AATIP,” Carter said. “Advanced Aerospace Threat Identification Program. The Navy owns it, owing to the fact that Navy pilots have become the largest group of reporters. It’s a classified program, that was said to be shut down in 2012, but I’m assured by insiders that it’s very much alive and well.”
“He also told me all about his own database, U-AN. I was on the site half the night. Fascinating stuff, really fascinating. And then you consider, this Ruben Sanchez report about the white rooms, Grays, and an abductee named Helen. Then add it to Celeste’s documented, contemporaneous vision and the statements from Victoria and Elizabeth’s own mouths and what do we have? I’ll tell you what we have. We have a very compelling case that my granddaughters were abducted by aliens and that their static ages and their illnesses are the result.”
Poor guy, Marcus thought. He’s so desperate for answers that he’s buying into this shit. “Helen,” Marcus said. “Not Elena.”
“Nitpicking,” Mickey replied.
Marcus finished his Americano and asked for a refill by pointing to a waiter and then his cup. “Why am I even here, Mickey? I mean, you’ve got this all figured out. Maybe I ought to get on a plane and head back to New York to see if my hot girlfriend will have me back. Wait. Never mind. I was the one who kicked her out, and she wasn’t hot.”
“You’re here because we have to find Jesper and Elena. Until I have them back, I want all bases covered. You’re a conventional base, I’ll give you that, but you’re still a base. With that in mind, please see what Major Lumaga’s been up to. And after that, the girls asked after you. They want Uncle Marcus to come and play with them.”
“When can I see them?” Carter asked.
“I don’t know,” Mickey said. “They’ll be getting a battery of tests this afternoon. I’ll get back to you.”
“In that case,” Carter said, his plate groaning under eggs, potatoes, and ham from the buffet, “I’ll be off to the Vatican. It’s been on my bucket list for a dog’s age. Want to come with me, Celeste?”
“I had a vision you would ask,” she said.
“You’re joking, right?” Carter said.
“Yes, Virgil, I’m joking. What time shall we go?”
*
“Okay, what do you have?” Lumaga asked Odorico.
“We received Cinzia’s phone records,” she said, passing the papers across his desk. “A Spanish mobile number we presume is Ferruccio’s, begins calling Cinzia’s mobile phone just over a week ago. Going back three years, there’s not a single call from him and then he’s calling every day until the day before the murders. We got his carrier to provide us with his locations. The first call was from Zaragoza, Spain, about one hundred kilometers from the French border. The next call was from Girona, near Barcelona. Then he’s in France, in Montpelier. Then he’s in Italy and he rings from Genoa, Pisa, Fiumicino, Salerno, then Vibo Valentia.”
Lumaga shrugged. “So, he’s like a lovesick puppy calling his ex-girlfriend as he drives across southern Europe to her doorstep. Where’s his car, I wonder?”
“We found it. The night of the murder, residents around the corner from Cinzia reported a vehicle in flames. It had Spanish tags. We checked with the Spaniards. It was his car. The petrol cap was off, so we think someone stuck a rag in and lit it. It’s down to bare metal.”
“Kill the man, kill the car. What does that tell us?” Lumaga asked.
“There was possible evidence about the killer’s identity in the car.”
“Probably,” Lumaga said. “Ferruccio’s phone? Anything?”
“We’ve tried to geo-locate it, but it’s turned off or it’s destroyed.”
“Have the Spanish police been helpful?”
“Quite helpful. They gained entry to Ferruccio’s apartment in Madrid. It didn’t look like he’d been living there for a while. They’re still going through the place, but so far, there was nothing of an illegal nature.”
“What about what his mother told you?”
“The police checked on his story. It’s true that he left his job in Madrid about five years ago. He was working in a hospital as a technician and apparently, he was a good employee. He didn’t provide a reason for his resignation. The hospital didn’t know where he went and didn’t provide any references. For the last five years, he didn’t pay anything into the Spanish social security system and wasn’t signed on for healthcare.”
“But he maintained an apartment. How’d he pay his rent?”
“The landlord got his rent in cash every three months in advance by mail.”
Lumaga raised an eyebrow. “That’s unusual, wouldn’t you say?”
“Quite unusual. What he told his mother about winning the lottery seems to be a lie. There’s no record of a Ferruccio Gressani winning anything.”
Lumaga furiously tapped his pen on a pad. “This guy’s got to be up to something and that something has to be drugs. He leaves a good job, drops off the grid, keeps his apartment although he lives somewhere else and pays his rent in cash, gives his mother expensive gifts, and—oh yeah, he’s murdered in a professional hit. Drugs, drugs, drugs.”
“And let’s not forget his old friend, Marco Zuliani,” Odorico said. “His nickname was Zulio. We’ve got a file on him and his family as thick as the Naples phonebook. They were significant heroin traffickers in their day. Unless they found God or joined the circus, they’re probably still in the business.”
“A good number of ’Ndrangheta set up shop in Canada, especially Toronto. You need to contact the authorities there.”
“Already did. I’m expecting a call-back from Toronto.”
“Very nice work, Fabiana.”
She looked pleased. “Thank you, Major.”
He shooed her away by waving the back of his
