Читать книгу A Cold Flame: A gripping crime thriller that will keep you hooked - Aidan Conway - Страница 20

“We’ve been given a pretty open brief here,” Maroni continued leaning forward again over his notes. One document was headed in bold lettering “Combined Security Committee”.

“CSC want us to approach it intellectually and operationally, given the abundant expertise we have in both those fields. Which, as far as I’m concerned, means keeping your eyes and ears open and doing proper police work.”

He sat back then and looked up, scanning the faces gathered round the oval table in the conference room. He forced a wry smile. “I prefer the operational side myself but as you know I am always ready to hear your suggestions.”

“Ah, glad you could make it,” he said then as Rossi made his way into the meeting and grabbed a chair, more than a little late. “You know everyone, I’m sure. If not, get acquainted during the break.”

Rossi sat down opposite Carrara on the other side of the table.

“I had just been telling everyone here that you’re one of our top languages men, but Arabic’s not on your list, is it?”

“Not as yet, sir,” Rossi replied.

“Any suggestions as to how we might approach surveillance and intelligence gathering on the ground? The question’s open to you all,” Maroni continued, eying the gathered operatives one by one now over his rimless reading glasses.

“I was wondering,” said Carrara, “about the tech side. Is that all in the hands of the usual crew? The Telecoms Police and their, shall we say, ‘subsidiaries’? I assume their GIS mapping is going to be central, but what about our role? Do we have any added capabilities?”

“Well you can forget about ClearTech for now,” Maroni said, looking to close quickly on that score, “Judicial inquiry’s out on that one, as if you don’t remember.”

Rossi and Carrara remembered very well. They hadn’t been able to prove it but, during The Carpenter case, they had found enough to suggest that the outsourced computer forensics had been manipulated to keep them off the trail. Silvestre, an integral part of the RSCS but never one to see eye-to-eye with either Rossi or Carrara, had been seconded to assist ClearTech just before. They didn’t think it had been any coincidence.

“The problem,” said Rossi, cutting in, “as I see it, and from what I’ve gathered from Europol, and our French counterparts in particular, is that these groups, the radicalizers and the potentially radicalized, initially get together via chat rooms and forums. They sound each other out first and then they move onto secure encrypted platforms, things like Telegram. There’s very little you can do to intercept the coms.”

“Well at least you’ve been doing some homework, Rossi,” said Maroni. “But I think our lot are on to that and aware of the limitations of straightforward phone taps.”

“If they’re any good at all, they hardly even use phones,” said Rossi. “They use word of mouth, trust and community protection, couriers.”

“So what’s the big idea then? I assume you’re going to get to your point.” The surprise contribution had come from Silvestre. He had popped up at the corner of the table where he’d been slouching, lying low as usual. “I say we pile into the ghettos and stop and search till they’re sick of the sight of us. See a car with a couple of Arabs in, we turn it over. Send ’em a message, the murdering scum.”

“You’re assuming we’re dealing only with Arabs then Silvestre?” Rossi countered.

“You know exactly what I mean. Come down heavy on the lot, I say. Show ’em who’s boss. Take no prisoners. Flush ’em out of their holes.”

“But you use your head first,” said Rossi, “like Dalla Chiesa did with the Red Brigades. He played a long game, and he didn’t take any innocent lives doing it. If we go in like you’re proposing there’ll be an exponential growth of home-grown terror.”

“All right, gentlemen,” said Maroni, “let’s keep on an even keel here. This is neither the Wild West nor the Seventies or the Eighties. I was there for some of that and I knew the general, personally. So let’s leave it at that.”

“You can’t go antagonizing a whole community, if you don’t want a war,” said Rossi unable to resist the parting shot. “If you target them as Muslims it will be wholly counterproductive. That’s how their recruiters work, telling these kids that their religion is their common bond, regardless of their nationality. We’d be doing their job for them.”

“And the government doesn’t want the city in a lockdown scenario either,” said Maroni. “It’s bad for the economy, and God know’s it’s already on life support. The moment is delicate, gentlemen, very delicate. And there’s the Olympic bid to consider. There’s a lot of pressure on that front too, I don’t mind saying.”

Rossi shook his head.

“We need to think like they do,” said Rossi. “Try to understand what these young guys want, and they will be young, for sure. Then we can isolate them within their communities, get them to rat on each other once they realize it’s in their interests. And we can take advantage of the fact that there aren’t any true no-go areas in Rome yet, at least not like in Brussels and Paris. We can still manage this situation.”

Inspector Katia Vanessi had raised her hand to speak. New to the team, and the only woman on RSCS, she was an as yet unknown quantity as far as Rossi was concerned.

“Every domestic terrorist act is underwritten by a prevailing sense of social injustice validating if not the means then certainly the end.”

Rossi adjusted his position from a half slouch to interested. He could see Maroni was growing impatient.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I get the point but we are not the UN here. We are not delivering global solutions for the hard done by. We are trying to stop Islamist extremists planting bloody bombs in our city!”

But Rossi wasn’t going to let it go yet.

“In its day,” said Rossi, “the Red Brigades had a wide support base, and they did have a certain Robin-Hood quality, at least initially. But is that the case here? Putting bombs in public places?” he said, letting his own open question hang in the air like incense. “To me, it smacks more of fascism – the disdain for the masses for the advancement of a private agenda.”

Katia appeared to have let her attention wander for a moment. Rossi waited, expecting a personalized response that didn’t come as she continued to make unhurried but assiduous notes.

She had heard a lot about Rossi and was working out as she wrote how best to comment on his little speech. Yes, she’d heard about his intellect, his unusual background, his barely concealed disdain for authority, and his reputation for getting results, often against the odds. Well, she reflected, dotting a final i on her notepad before laying down her pen – he seemed to be able to talk the talk at least. She raised her hand.

“Well, Inspector Rossi,” she said, giving him her firm and confident attention now, “that’s a nice little story but, given your experience on the ground, what do you propose we actually do about it?”