City of Devils: A Novel (44 page)

James started. He could swear that he had a seen a faint movement from the body. There it was – nothing more than a slight twitch of a finger, but it was unmistakable.

‘The man’s still alive!’ he exclaimed. He knelt by the body, lifting the hand to feel for a sign of life. ‘Yes, there is a faint pulse. Get this man to an infirmary now!’

Suddenly there was a roar of pain and the ‘body’ tried to sit up. Ratti tried to speak and James put his ear to the man’s lips.

‘What are you trying to tell me?’ he asked gently.

At that moment Machinetti arrived with Tullio close behind him. ‘That is enough! Come away from the body,’ he barked as if they had been trespassing.

‘Firstly, this man is not a body. He is alive!’ Lombroso beckoned to James, who left Ottolenghi to tend to Ratti, groaning more loudly now with the pain of his dreadful injuries.

Machinetti looked on in shock as two carabinieri approached and began to lift the man onto a makeshift stretcher ready to be taken to the infirmary.

‘Did he speak? What did he say?’ Machinetti asked James, completely ignoring Lombroso.

‘He said “Do not trust him”.’

‘Who did he mean?’ Machinetti said.

James shrugged. ‘He did not say anything else.’

‘Are you sure? Did you listen carefully?’

‘Of course I’m sure,’ James replied indignantly.

He watched as Machinetti tried to speak to Ratti as he was being taken away but the man had lapsed into unconsciousness. James wondered if Ratti would say anything more. It didn’t seem likely, given the amount of blood he had lost and his rather cryptic comment merely served to deepen the mystery further. Who should he or they not trust?

Lombroso paused, as if taking stock. ‘Now, it’s back to the museum, gentlemen. There is much to discuss.’

They followed him as he strode away from the scene. James put his hand into his pocket and felt the piece of cardboard there. If he was right, it could provide the answer to this dreadful puzzle. But if he was wrong, then they would have to rely on Ratti. He shivered. The fog was even thicker now and glowed a ghastly yellow colour. This was certainly a devilish city in so many ways. Still, they had a surviving victim and a clue. Perhaps they were nearer to a solution now than they had ever been.

Back at the museum, Ottolenghi, Tullio and James sat in the laboratory, deep in their own thoughts. A message from the infirmary had been delivered. Ratti was deep in a coma from which he was not expected to wake. Having heard this, Lombroso had gone to his study ‘to think’.

James took this opportunity to update Tullio on his thoughts that the killer might have practised his horrific skills before attempting the ‘tribute’ killings.

Tullio frowned. ‘That’s an interesting theory. You think that there may have been attacks prior to Soldati’s murder.’

‘It has to be possible at least, given the way everything seems to have been planned,’ James said. ‘Could it be checked?’

‘I don’t see why not.’

‘I hope you’re right, James. Without it, unless Ratti wakes up, we are no nearer to tracking the killer down than we were at the beginning,’ Ottolenghi said.

James was about to contradict him – they did have some leads to work on – but he was interrupted.

‘Don’t be so sure of that,’ announced Lombroso, who was standing in the doorway. His usual certainty seemed to have returned. He wore a strange expression – not quite triumphant but certainly there was an air of smugness about him as if he had just won an argument. James wondered how much of their conversation he had overheard.

‘Has the killer left some other trace behind that we can use?’ asked Ottolenghi eagerly.

Lombroso shook his head. ‘No, he is too intelligent for that, I’m afraid.’

James almost contradicted him but thought the better of it. He wanted to be sure of his ground before he said anything.

Tullio got to his feet. ‘So what have you deduced, Professor?’

‘I believe that we are looking for a new kind of criminal type!’

‘And what are the characteristics?’ Tullio asked.

James felt more than a little disappointed. It seemed to him that they had been here before.

‘Let us examine the evidence,’ Lombroso said as he strode into the room towards the blackboard.

He went through each criminal type from morally insane to mattoid – detailing again each characteristic both in body and mind. James thought that Lombroso kept restating his theories because they were comforting in their familiarity. They were his only constant and he returned to them with a sort of desperation in an effort to explain the terrible events that threatened to bring a premature end to his career. But James was struggling to find any relevance in the application of Lombroso’s ideas to the matter in hand. The criminal they were seeking seemed to not only defy description but also any classification as a type. He wanted to focus on real tangible clues, not just theoretical concepts.

‘I believe that we are on the threshold of a new discovery,’ Lombroso announced dramatically. ‘I have not encountered a criminal before who is so artful, so creative in his activities. He must be a fully functioning member of society to have avoided detection for so long and yet his crimes are so hideous that they must be motivated by something extremely potent, such as intense hatred. This person is two-faced in that he is, to all intents and purposes a fully functioning and probably rather charming individual. However, he has a dark side that allows him to commit his crimes without compunction. Gentlemen, may I introduce you to the schizoid criminal.’

At this point Lombroso actually stood aside as if he was revealing a person who was present in the room with them. They sat in silence for a moment, taking in what he had said. James did not think these conclusions were particularly new. That the killer hated Lombroso had become only too clear over the last few weeks – but could it be more complex than that?

‘Is it just hatred we are seeing here?’ he suggested.

Lombroso looked at him, nodding. ‘You are right, Murray. He may well love or hate me, perhaps even both, given his apparent obsession with me. But the important factor to understand is that he has learned to hide his true feelings.’

‘That would be quite an achievement if the emotions are as intense as they seem,’ James said.

Lombroso looked over his glasses at him. ‘It is as if he is two people, Murray. The world sees one person and yet his inner life reveals another; hence the term “schizoid”, from the Greek meaning separate or apart.’

James suddenly remembered hearing something about this kind of condition before. ‘Hasn’t Oskar Reiner written a paper on something similar?’

Lombroso nodded. ‘Indeed. I believe Reiner identifies it as a disease of the brain. He discusses the condition in relation to sexual proclivities. Here, of course, it has led to criminality without a sexual motive. The cunning and ingenuity displayed by our killer is typical of the morally insane but it is combined in this case with the savagery of the primitive or atavistic offender. He will appear to the outside world as a perfectly normal person but this hides an inner turmoil that is manifesting itself in these crimes.’

‘Then how are we ever to catch him?’ Ottolenghi said in despair.

Lombroso went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘His hatred will get the better of him before long. I am sure of it.’

Tullio stood suddenly. ‘I have an idea. It’s not exactly scientific policing, but it could work.’

‘Go on,’ Lombroso said.

‘Based on this new criminal type of yours it seems that we can conclude that this man loves or hates you to the level of obsession, Professor. Is that right?’ Tullio asked.

Lombroso sighed. ‘So it would seem.’

‘Then his obsession will drive him. He will want to show you his work either by murdering in your presence if he loves you or—’

‘Making you his last victim,’ Ottolenghi said.

‘
Finito
,’ Lombroso murmured quietly. ‘Hence the question mark.’

‘So if we were to put you in harm’s way, Professor, then . . .’ Tullio said.

James frowned. ‘Isn’t that a rather risky strategy?’

‘Sometimes one has to take risks in the name of discovery, Murray,’ Lombroso said, thoughtfully. ‘This is scientific policing, Tullio, but based on criminal anthropology, not mere investigatory techniques!’

‘I cannot guarantee your safety, Professor,’ Tullio warned.

Lombroso smiled. ‘Of course I am hoping that he will be caught before that happens. I will merely be the bait, the fly to catch the spider, as it were.’

And so after some discussion a plan was hatched. Wherever the professor went, one of the others would follow. Sooner or later, or so it was hoped, the criminal would reveal himself and the case could be solved. James was happy enough to assist but he could not help thinking that Lombroso’s faith in his own theories might be somewhat misplaced. He decided that he would continue on his own path as well. Hopefully he might then be in a position to identify the killer before Lombroso put his own life in danger. Then, perhaps, the gates of Hell could be firmly and finally closed.

25

We believe that those individuals least responsible for their behaviour are most to be feared
.

Lombroso, 1896 p 336

It was the final day of the symposium. They had gathered to hear a talk by Borelli on the use of criminal anthropology in criminal courts. Lombroso was then to close the proceedings with a short speech in reply. James could see Madame Tarnovsky dressed in black but still somehow managing to shine out like a precious stone in a sea of grey. Horton was there too, sitting with Gemelli and his two cronies. He looked smug, somehow, as if he knew something that the rest of the party did not. He waved a greeting but the look on his face was insincere. He was a strange man. James wondered again where he had disappeared to on the night of DeClichy’s murder. Was he really in one of the local brothels? And what was it that he had been so worried about James finding out about his past?

On the other side of the room sat Father Vincenzo. James was surprised to see him. He did not think that this was a subject about which the priest had much interest. He looked engaged enough however, as he looked around him like a hawk seeking it out its next victim. James remembered the curious warnings he had uttered to Lombroso. Perhaps his fear for the consequences of the professor’s work was genuine but still something told James that Father ‘Hell’ was a man to be wary of. His allegiance was to the Church and to himself and that made him a man who could not be trusted.

Tullio was also present, keeping a watchful eye on the professor. He beckoned James over. ‘I’ve asked Giardinello to find records of violent assaults for the last six months. I haven’t been able to check them yet but you’re welcome to take a look yourself.’

James nodded. ‘I’ll do that.’

‘I’ve left them at my office. Just ask and Giardinello will show them to you,’ Tullio said.

James thanked him and went to find a seat. Part of him wanted to go to Tullio’s office immediately but he forced himself to stay. He was still a student and Lombroso might not take kindly to his absence. The atmosphere was more subdued than at the previous talks but the level of interest was high as Borelli rose to his feet to speak.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I have come here today to discuss the application of criminal anthropology to criminal proceedings. It is my view that we should be wary of its use as, although it has much to commend it, mistakes are still all too easy to make.’

‘Why don’t you ask Lombroso about mistakes? He’s becoming somewhat of an expert!’ called out Horton in his American drawl. There was some muted laughter. Everyone knew of the events at the police station and it would take some time for Lombroso to live them down amongst his peers.

Borelli gave a mock bow in Horton’s direction. ‘Thank you, Dr Horton, for your comments, which are as helpful as ever.’ More laughter followed and Borelli lifted his hands to quell the disturbance.

‘If mistakes are made when testimony is given then the results can be catastrophic for all those concerned. Such errors can result in miscarriages of justice and the consequences that can follow on from them are truly tragic. Our work is still in its infancy and we should beware of intellectual arrogance and complacency that can infect us like a disease if we are not careful.’

James looked round at people’s faces. He could see that they were not convinced.

Borelli continued, undeterred by an undercurrent of hostile muttering in the audience. ‘When we give evidence in a trial we must always ask ourselves this question: are we sure of our ground? And if we are not, we should say so, loud and clear for all to hear. We should never present guesswork as fact, for to do so can bring about some terrible changes to innocent lives.’

There was some fidgeting. Perhaps, thought James, some of them were discomfited by the prospect that they could ever be anything less than certain.

Borelli went on for some time. Trained in the law as well as medicine, he knew his subject well. He gave various examples of where evidence had been wrong and how it had ruined the lives of those involved. It was a moving speech and a fitting end to the proceedings. Finally he came to an end and after the plentiful applause had died down, Lombroso got to his feet to reply and bring the symposium to a close.