Mason’s veins filled with fire. He was fervent, bubbling over with purpose. The attack on the Vatican was still ongoing. He and his team, forced to leave it behind, to leave the valiant Swiss guards, gendarmes and cavalieré and Cardinal Gambetti behind, had raced across the length of St Peter’s Square, holstering their weapons, with a gendarme among them. Conte had given the gendarme an order, to vouch for Premo Conte’s authority in questioning Ivana. He would push for Mason and the others to be allowed to interrogate the prisoner. Of course, the question of Conte’s authority in Rome was a grey and problematic prospect.
But Ivana had knowledge about the ongoing terrorist attack. Surely common sense would prevail.
The cops on site knew that. They had been told to wait the ten minutes it would take Mason and his team to get there. Already, in his head, Mason was forming the questions he would ask.
The early night air, filled with drizzle, surrounded them and kept them cool. It was welcome. Mason ran through the growing darkness. They crossed streets, crossed roads, pushed through crowds of onlookers with their phones out, each one trying to capture something out of the ordinary whilst ignoring the police advice to move away, to go home, to take care of their own lives. Mason pushed past them, following the gendarme, who had directions to where they were holding Ivana.
It was a narrow street with parked cars on both sides. They could already see the site of the mayhem because a large crowd had gathered outside. Onlookers were blocking the street and the pavement, making Mason force his way through.
They reached the police cordon.
The gendarme pushed underneath the yellow tape, turning and waving Mason and the others along with him. They urged the first police officer to meet them to go grab a supervisor. The supervisor was told to get hold of the main boss on site. The gendarme produced a note written by Premo Conte and then dispensed some knowledge – he told them all about the part Mason and his team were playing in tonight’s madness, including that they worked directly for the Vatican Cavalieré.
‘I am Chief Inspector Luca Esposito,’ the site boss said in English. ‘Come with me.’
Mason followed in Esposito’s footsteps. The chief inspector was a tall, spare man whose jacket appeared to be too short for him, whose trousers looked too tight. He was one of those people who couldn’t get anything to fit right off the shelves and didn’t earn enough to have everything made bespoke. His fingers were long and currently resting on the handle of the gun that was thrust into his belt.
Esposito led them to another man. ‘Inspector,’ he said. ‘Tell them what we have. In English.’
‘Two local men captured this woman in the bar of this pub.’ The inspector gestured over his right shoulder. ‘Overpowered her. She went on a killing spree inside, murdering at least three people and injuring many others before being stopped. She won’t talk. We used facial recognition and have linked her to many crimes, including the escape from prison recently of the terrorist Marduk, who’s linked to tonight’s attacks on Vatican City. We put the word out hoping she may have information that someone might be able to use.’
‘Thanks for your cooperation.’ The gendarme again introduced Mason and his team, asking for the chief inspector’s indulgence for a few minutes.
‘You want me to let them interrogate her?’ Esposito sounded dubious.
‘You are interrogating here right now, are you not? Right here, in the street, surrounded by all these people.’
‘If the bitch has information that can stop the Vatican attacks,’ Esposito said, ‘we will use all means to uncover it.’
‘We know her,’ Mason said. ‘We’ve fought against her before.’
‘Did you find Cassadaga?’ Quaid asked.
The chief inspector stared at him. ‘We know of this mythical killer she runs with. He is also in the surveillance videos. No apprehensions yet. It is only a matter of time.’
Mason cast his eyes across the crowd, searching for a murderer. ‘He won’t be far away. He and Ivana are inseparable.’
‘He will want her back,’ Roxy said.
The chief inspector looked wary. ‘If I were him, I’d be dozens of miles from here by now.’
‘Then you don’t know Daga, or Ivana,’ Mason said. ‘Please let us talk to her.’ His tone constrained by the pressure that was on him, the knowledge that the Vatican guards were still fighting to protect the building and their lives, the knowledge that every second counted, the knowledge that Daga couldn’t be too far away and might act at any moment. ‘Please,’ he repeated.
‘It can’t hurt,’ Esposito said, face grim. ‘She’s a murderer. Hasn’t spoken a word yet. Despite … our pressure.’
Mason followed the chief inspector quickly around the side of a police van so that they were out of sight of the crowd. The pub in front of them had windows through which they could see many cops and plain-clothes detectives working. He wiped the still-falling moisture from his face and turned to the van.
Esposito slid the side door open.
Ivana sat inside, her face bloody, her hands clasped together before her in handcuffs. She was leaning forward and staring at the floor, but looked up when the door opened. She seemed surprised to see them.
‘Joe Mason,’ she said.
Esposito shook his head, clearly bemused that the first words out of her had come after the appearance of the newcomers. Mason stepped up into the van and saw two armed officers seated to the right, both with their guns drawn.
‘How hard have you interrogated her?’ Roxy asked.
‘We asked questions,’ Esposito said. ‘She has broken ribs, arm and nose. We haven’t allowed her any painkillers.’
Roxy glared at him. ‘Painkillers? Damn, dude, is that it? This woman is one of the worst serial killers in Europe’s history. She has information on an ongoing terrorist incident, and you’ve denied her painkillers? Wow, that’s just great.’
Mason crouched in front of Ivana. ‘For now,’ he said, ‘we don’t care about you. Not in this moment. We don’t care about Daga. We just want Marduk. Where is he?’
‘I don’t know any Marduk,’ Ivana answered, her broad shoulders moving from side to side, her accent thick.
Mason leaned closer. He could see her broken nose, her hanging arm, the way she winced because of the pain in her ribs. He knew she didn’t want to move, not even a millimetre. ‘Tell me what we need to know,’ he tried again.
‘You can’t hurt me,’ she said, sneering.
Mason moved aside as Roxy entered the van. ‘No, but I can,’ she said and grabbed hold of Ivana’s good arm, twisting it slightly. ‘This is a friendly warning,’ she said and then yanked on the arm. Ivana’s face went slack, and she cried out in pain.
‘That was your good arm,’ Roxy said. ‘Just a little tug. I can do far worse.’
Mason slid the van door closed behind them, shutting out Esposito. The last he saw of the man’s face, Esposito looked glad to be out of it.
‘Where is Marduk?’ he asked again.
To his right, the local cops sat in silence. They knew exactly what Ivana had done and what she was capable of. Mason hated Roxy taking the lead like this – it could set her recovery back if she reverted to her old ways – but he knew she was the best person for the job.
‘Daga will come for me,’ Ivana said.
Mason believed it. He was waiting for it. Daga and Ivana were far too intertwined to be dealt with singly. He tried to hide his revulsion as he thought about them murdering Cardinal Vallini, and of all the other things they’d done during the last few months.
‘If Daga comes, he will die,’ Roxy said.
‘Daga?’ She chortled. ‘You can’t kill Daga. The man’s immortal. A myth made flesh. When he comes for me, you will wish you were already dead.’
‘In that case, tell us what we want to know,’ Roxy said. ‘It can’t hurt.’
‘Speaking to you is like having my wrists dragged along cut glass,’ Ivana spat. ‘You disgust me.’
Mason felt shock, despite himself. Hearing words that actually defined this woman, hearing them thrust out of her own mouth against him, was both confusing and surprising. He didn’t know quite how to respond, so spent a few moments in silence. Ivana was going to have to be induced.
Roxy was way ahead of him. Her fist shot out, smashing Ivana in her already broken nose. Mason understood that the punch was the least cruel of the punishments Roxy could have doled out and understood why she chose it.
Ivana bellowed and tried to bring her hands up to her face, but the cuffs attached to the seat stopped her. Her head rocked back as more blood flowed.
‘Bitch,’ she said, her voice unnatural with pain. ‘You will pay for that.’
‘You get another every time you don’t answer our questions,’ Roxy said, now leaning forward and grabbing Ivana’s throat. She bunched her fist again.
Mason said, ‘Where is Marduk?’
‘Fuck you.’
Roxy punched her again. This time Ivana’s head flew back. She screwed her face up and screamed, but not just in pain. There was anger there too, frustration and hatred and immense disappointment that she had let herself get caught. Her eyes brimmed with fury. ‘You will get nothing from me.’
Her voice sounded nasal, deep. Roxy didn’t hesitate to punch her again, although Mason could see the American’s reluctance to do so. He put a hand on her arm, staying the next punch.
‘We’ll give you a minute,’ he said. ‘Consider your next answer carefully.’
Esposito was banging on the van’s door. Mason slid it open to see the chief inspector’s face along with his colleagues’ all looking up expectantly. The chief inspector was practically gnashing his teeth.
‘What do you have?’ he asked.
‘We’ve barely started,’ Mason said, mostly for the benefit of Ivana. He quickly slid the door closed again and turned to the captive.
‘Same question,’ he said.
This time, to mix it up, Roxy didn’t even wait for a reply. They had to be constantly on top of Ivana, showing her they not only meant business but that there would be no let-up. She punched Ivana as her mouth opened, tearing her own knuckles in the process. Ivana grunted and spat blood.
‘You don’t have long,’ Mason said. ‘From here on in, it’s just gonna get worse.’
‘There is nothing you can do,’ Ivana said.
‘It’s not Daga we want. It’s Marduk,’ Roxy pointed out.
Ivana stared at her, blinking.
‘Surely Marduk can’t be that hard to give up. You did it before, at the African HQ, remember? You and Daga just ran away. Why can’t you give him up this time?’
Ivana frowned, as if the thought had only just occurred to her. She licked the blood from her lips. ‘But what do I get if I give him up?’ she said.
What could they actually offer her? Ivana had committed some of the worst crimes imaginable. Mason was in no mind to offer her any leniency and, of course, he had no jurisdiction anywhere.
‘What do I get?’ Ivana hissed.
Mason opened his mouth to reply, but then a terrifying scream sounded from outside the van.
Ivana grinned.