The NOA officers relieved each other, starting a new shift, over at the dog shelter, and a black car moved away, turning back and forth in the switchback curves. Dante followed the headlights until they vanished behind the trees, then he put the boom box on the table, pushing aside the dirty plates and Alberti’s regulation-issue PM12 submachine gun. He started up the playlist of Krrish 3, a movie he’d watched at least a couple of times in the original Hindi, then he took a seat at the head of the table, carefully easing himself down with his shiny new wooden walking stick. He hadn’t eaten with the others. His eyes looked demented, and there were new circles underneath them.
“Where did you get that?” Esposito asked, pointing at his walking stick.
“It came today,” Dante replied. “A Ham Brooks classic. My legs are working better, and I don’t need the walker. At least I don’t seem like an old mummy anymore.”
“Big improvement.” Esposito stood up. “I’m going to get some sleep. Good night, Deputy Captain.”
“You’re a big boy now, you can stay up late with the grown-ups,” said Dante.
“No, thanks. I can’t take any more of this Arab hurly-burly you make me listen to all day long.”
“It’s Indian, not Iraqi. And even if they were Iraqi, they have other words for it,” Dante said. “Is there a special course you have to take to be a Neanderthal policeman, or did you just recruit him special?” he asked Colomba.
She grabbed the cane out of his hands and slammed it down onto the table top.
“That’s enough bullshit. Sit down, Esposito. This concerns you, too,” she said grimly.
Dante poured himself a glass of vodka to cut the tremors caused by the mix of caffeine and Ritalin. “While I was under anesthesia, I had a dream. My brother was in it. Every so often I remember another snippet of it. While nearly everything else disappears, Leo remains perfectly clear in my mind. I can hear his voice. And I see water submerging me.”
“Okay …” said Esposito. “And we care about this why?”
“In my dream, my brother wanted to warn me against someone. Maybe the conversation never actually took place, maybe it’s just my subconscious, but I’d say that this is the gist of the matter. Leo killed Belyy and let Giltine destroy his magic circle of accomplices. Impossible to think that there wasn’t someone behind him, providing him with information and logistical support.”
“Someone from COW who wanted the old founder dead,” said Esposito.
“Most likely. And now? Does he have a new boss? Who is he killing for?”
“Maybe for himself.”
“Or maybe he just hasn’t finished the job,” said Alberti.
“There you go,” said Dante. “So he must have some gray eminence from COW in his sights.”
“And you think he lives here?” Colomba asked acidly.
“No, you live here. But let’s take it one step at a time. Esposito, you’re a policeman with a great deal of experience. How do you catch a fugitive on the run?”
“You try to find out where he sleeps, who brings him food, or money …”
“But what if they’re all dead already, or out of the game, like Belyy’s magic circle?”
“Then you look at his relatives. Or doesn’t he have those, either?”
“No relatives. No name and no face.”
Esposito shrugged. “Then I’d give up. I’m not Merlin the Magician.”
“Leo can’t give up. Because he knows that the person he’s looking for, who survived the massacre, knows him and can’t wait to take his revenge. CC?”
“Try to make sure that it’s this person who sticks his nose out of hiding.”
“Exactly. My brother is continuing to kill so as to attract his enemy’s attention. And from the way he’s operating, he’s absolutely terrified of this enemy.”