Sign of the Cross

‘Yeah, I noticed.’

Dial smiled, then glanced at the choppers still hovering overhead. ‘Can’t you do anything about them? I need to remove the bag to see the handwriting on the sign.’

Cavanaugh stared at him like he was crazy. ‘There ain’t no sign under there. Just Pope’s ugly mug, which we’re trying to keep out of the papers.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘He’s been crucified enough in our sports pages.’

Dial ignored the joke. It was typical police humor. ‘I’ll be damned. The most famous vic yet, and they eliminate the sign. Why would they do that?’

Cavanaugh shrugged. ‘Then again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What type of sign were you expecting? I didn’t hear anything about a sign.’

‘That’s because we’ve been keeping it quiet.’ Dial took a step toward Cavanaugh, making sure no one else was listening. ‘The first two bodies had signs that referred to the cross. “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER” was on the first. “AND OF THE SON” was with the second. I was kind of expecting the third one tonight. Makes me wonder if this is a copycat.’

Cavanaugh nodded, like something finally started to make sense in his mind. ‘No, this isn’t a copycat. I can promise you that.’

‘Really? How can you be so sure?’

‘Because of the sign.’

Dial winced. ‘What sign? I thought you said there wasn’t a sign.’

‘Not under the bag, at least.’ Cavanaugh searched Dial’s face, trying to figure out if he was kidding. ‘I guess you haven’t made it to the outfield yet.’

‘The outfield?’ Just then it hit Dial. ‘Ah, son of a bitch. Not the Monster.’

Dial took a deep breath and shifted his gaze to the left-field wall, which was blurry to him. Several cops were still out there, and Dial finally knew why. They were taking pictures of the message, debating if they should hose the blood off the wall or rip it down as evidence.

Plus they were trying to figure out what the killer meant when he wrote, ‘AND OF THE HOLY.’

Disgusted, Cavanaugh sighed, ‘After tonight, it’s gonna be called the Red Monster.’

41

The Linate Airport was about four miles from the Universita Cattolica campus. Frankie told Payne and Jones the fastest way to get there, which they hoped would be fast enough to grab Boyd, if he even appeared. Since a female had rented both vehicles, they knew there was a good chance that Boyd wouldn’t show his face. If he did, great. They’d take him down quickly before he knew what hit him. But if he didn’t, they’d follow his accomplice, hoping she led them to his hideout. Payne asked, ‘Do we know what color the car is?’

Jones shook his head. ‘The lady said it was a ’98 Fiat. And since Fiat stands for Fabbrica Italiana Automobili Torino, there’s bound to be plenty of ’em floating around Italy.’

Due to the early morning hour, they got to the rental office in less than five minutes. They parked across the street and spotted the female instantly. She was wearing a silk scarf over her dark brown hair, but the rest of her clothes were the same as they were in the surveillance photo.

This would be easier than they thought.

*

Paranoid, Maria glanced in her rearview mirror and saw nothing that concerned her. Traffic near the airport was virtually nonexistent, and the only visible light was from the iron lampposts that lined the roads of the desolate textile district. If all went well, she figured she’d be out of the city before the streets filled with the prying eyes of the Milanese workforce.

At least that was her plan.

The return trip to the abandoned warehouse was an uneventful one. As an extra precaution, she drove around the block two extra times, making sure that no one was following her. Once she was certain, she pulled her yellow Fiat down the cobblestone alley near the warehouse and parked behind a Dumpster, where she left the headlights on in order to find her way back inside.

‘Professore,’ she called as she entered the building. ‘I’m back.’

Boyd emerged from the shadows and greeted her with a warm smile. ‘Thank goodness, my dear. I’ve been worried sick. I kept having these dreadful thoughts that you were apprehended.’

She shook her head as she removed her silk scarf and replaced it with a ball cap. ‘Are you ready? We need to take advantage of the darkness while we can.’

‘Yes, by all means. Let me gather our things, and we can depart. Just give me a moment.’

Earlier that morning she’d wanted to take Boyd with her to the rental agency, although after much discussion, they decided it would be best if she went alone. It would’ve been faster if he’d tagged along, but he assumed the polizia would be staking out the airports and figured the farther he stayed away from the place, the better. And it was a good thing, too, for she noticed a number of officers near the terminal, and most of them were carrying Boyd’s picture.

‘Professore!’ she urged. ‘We have to get going. Please hurry.’

But unlike before, he didn’t respond. In fact, the only noise she heard was the beating of her own heart, a sound that suddenly increased in volume and rapidity.

Curious and slightly concerned, Maria crept past several wooden crates and headed toward the area where they’d slept. Unfortunately, the deeper she ventured into the building, the darker it got, and before long she found herself struggling to see even a foot in front of her.

‘Professore? Where are you? What’s wrong?’

When she heard no response, her curiosity was replaced with fear. What if someone had found him? What if he’d tripped in the darkness and hurt himself? What if someone…?

Just then Maria heard movement behind her. She ducked under several cobwebs and sidestepped a stack of boxes while heading toward the car’s headlights. To her surprise she saw Boyd sitting on the hood of the Fiat the moment she reached the alleyway.

‘Professore! I’ve been looking all over for you. How’d you get out here?’

‘With a little help, my dear.’

She smiled, glad that he was safe. ‘The lights were helpful, weren’t they?’

He sighed, ‘Regrettably, that’s not what I meant.’

‘It wasn’t? Then what are you talking about?’

At which point Payne introduced himself. ‘He’s trying to tell you I dragged him out.’

She whirled and saw his Beretta, his eyes completely hidden behind dark shades.

‘Who the hell are you?’ she demanded in Italian. ‘What do you want from us?’

But Payne refused to answer. Instead, he grabbed her by her hair and threw her against the car. She briefly resisted until he let her know that he was in charge, shoving her face against the warm metal of the Fiat. Then he strengthened his hold by ramming his knee between her thighs and pinning her in place with his body weight. From there he was able to frisk her and tie her hands behind her back with a piece of cord that he’d found inside the warehouse. Finally, once she was secured, he spoke. ‘Now, what were you asking?’

She looked at him, confused. She had assumed that Payne was with the polizia because of his dark hair and his Beretta. But the more she heard his voice, the more certain she was that he was an American. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded in English. ‘What the hell do you want?’

Payne grinned at her profanity. ‘Hey, Doc! Where’d you find her? She’s feisty.’

‘You’re damn right I’m feisty. Now answer my damn question before I start screaming.’

‘Excuse me?’ Payne took a step forward and placed his gun under her chin. ‘Listen up, lady, I’m not sure you understand the situation, so I’m going to break it down for you. First of all, what’s your name? I don’t think it’s appropriate to call you “lady” when you don’t act like one.’

‘Mmrria.’

He eased up slightly so he could understand her.

‘My name’s Maria.’

‘OK, Maria, here’s the deal: I currently have a gun buried in your throat. Do you feel it?’

She nodded carefully.