Читать книгу Serpent Song - Toni Grant - Страница 14

Chief Inspector Goodwood gazed blankly out his office window onto the roof of the building alongside. He was facing mounting pressure to resolve this matter without fanfare. The media were asking questions, which meant the police minister needed answers. So far, everyone was on his side, understanding the process, but that wouldn’t last. Thank goodness the trip to the Ridge was successful.

In another event the Warlords and Ares were engaged in public warfare. Decidedly more visible to a majority of the population and more accessible to the media, that problem required a different policing approach. Two pressing matters, not enough information. They needed a lucky break and more time. Goodwood was confident he could manage the bike gangs himself.

At first, he’d been sceptical of Francesca’s contribution when she joined his new team. But thanks to her fresh approach and recent experiences with the triads, she’d actually brought about good results. The girl thought differently to the men on his squad. She processed information in a very perceptive way and yet presented that same information in a factual, court-ready format.

At the moment, he needed her research skills. Goodwood checked her biography. Her specialty was Triad but her background and family history was Italian. She understood the culture more than anyone on the squad. A lifelong immersion in her upbringing and regular family holidays to Italy. He told himself it was cliché to expect her to understand the workings of the Italian Mafia. That she would possess innate connectivity to the cultural aspects behind their actions.

Goodwood was desperate. This matter had to be shut down. The Inspector contacted his Roman counterpart, a fellow he’d met during a police envoy to Australia once. Francesca was fluent in Italian, she’d worked brilliantly with Enzo in Lightning Ridge and she was experienced enough to get herself around the protocol of the Italian Police Force, get the required information and get home.

“Salucci I want you to go to Rome.” Chief Inspector Goodwood stood in the doorway of the detective’s office, his face set with determination.

“What? I mean, I beg your pardon Sir?” The Italian’s stunned expression was comical.

“I want you to go to Rome. You have the language skills. I have a contact in the Police over there; he will put you in touch with the right people in their international crime team. I don’t believe the Melbourne group is working alone. I assume you have a current passport?”

“Yes.” Francesca could not believe her luck. She held her breath, waiting for the last instruction.

“Organise it. I want you gone by the end of the week.”

“Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” Francesca almost leapt out of her chair and kissed the inspector on the cheek.

Rome! By the end of the week! And then Rapallo! Francesca’s mind launched into overdrive. Even she was surprised at how quickly she could mentally move from preparing to meet with an informant to Rome and Nicholas Delarno.

From that moment, she determined to work day and night in the Italian capital and earn four days off in Rapallo. This was the answer she’d been looking for. A farewell tour of a life that was never hers. Francesca kept her emotions in check. This was her chance to say goodbye for good. Melancholy, hope and relief welled in her blackrimmed eyes. It was nearly over.

The trip to Rapallo would be easy to justify to Goodwood. She could always say that her investigations took her to the tumbling village town.

Goodwood turned his attention to Johnno. As the conversation continued, Francesca held her breath again.

“Johnno, keep digging here in Melbourne. I want you to focus on Chi You and Nero. The OMCG team at Operations can keep tabs on Ares and Warlords. Anything you need, support-wise, let me know. Don’t work in isolation. I want to know if there is the slightest link between these bike gangs and the other two groups. This job takes priority.” As an afterthought the inspector added, “Johnno, this is your operation. Do you agree with this approach?”

“Do you really think the Italian police can help us with this specific case? If the organisation was still being coordinated from Sicily we would have the information already. I mean the corro between the Melbourne mob and their overseas connections has not increased, in fact it’s been quite the opposite,” Johnno responded tautly, disgruntled at Goodwood’s interference.

“Precisely. Makes me think they are waiting for something to happen. I think we need some distance. To look at it from a broader perspective as part of a bigger movement. Francesca will be able check first-hand with the Italian international organised crime team. She will immediately recognise patterns or connections with our investigations here. If the links do exist, she can set us up for continued co-operation. If this is the beginning of a new trend, I want us on the front foot.”

“And you don’t think the Italians can investigate it in Rome and send through any relevant information?” Johnno said, agitated.

“No. I don’t,” Goodwood responded in irritation. “I need someone there I can trust. We need to safeguard our information as much as possible until we work out who we are dealing with.

“Francesca, take fourteen days including travel time. Keep me informed every step of the way.”

Francesca released her breath, avoiding Johnno’s astonished glance in her direction. The awkward moment was interrupted by another phone call as the boss turned on his heel, leaving the room as abruptly as he’d arrived.