16

‘It’ll be dark in three or four hours,’ Angela objected. ‘Are you sure you want to go back there again today?’

They were back in the hotel room, the newspaper printouts Bronson had obtained spread across the bed.

‘I’m not bothered about the dead girls,’ Bronson said. ‘Investigating those disappearances is a police matter, without question. It’s nothing to do with us. But these other stories I found, about the vandalized graves out on the island, are really interesting. I just thought I’d like to go over there and see what sort of damage had been done, and also find out the age of the tombs that had been targeted.’

‘Why?’ Angela was already putting on her boots, Bronson noted, and had selected a heavier coat for the journey across the water.

‘It’s your talk about a vampire cult that’s got me interested. I was wondering if all the graves were from the nineteenth century, and if their occupants were all female. I’d also like to know if the tombs were opened, or if the vandals had sprayed graffiti on them, for instance. Was it genuine vandalism, or were the people involved trying to open the graves because they were looking for something?’

Angela smiled. ‘Oddly enough, I want to go back to the Isola di San Michele as well, but for a completely different reason. While you were out, I translated some more of the Latin text in that book, and there’s a reference in it that I’d like to look at.’ She pointed at the black leather-bound book. ‘In fact, there are several references to the same thing. According to that diary, somewhere in the graveyard, in the “tomb of the twin angels”, as the writer calls it, is the “answer”. Now, I haven’t got the slightest idea what she means, but I’d be very interested in finding out.’

‘Right then,’ Bronson said, zipping up his leather jacket. ‘Let’s go.’

A few minutes later they walked out of the hotel and turned north, towards the vaporetto stop. Angela had her handbag slung over her shoulder, while Bronson was carrying her laptop bag. She had insisted on taking her computer and the diary with them while they explored the cemetery, just in case she needed to refer back to the Latin text.

Ten minutes after they’d left, a man appeared at the reception desk, produced identification that showed he was a senior carabinieri officer, and demanded to see the hotel register. He explained that it was just a routine check, as part of a confidential statistical analysis that the Venetian authorities were carrying out into hotel occupancy by non-Italian guests.

The receptionist handed over the register without comment.

The carabinieri officer made some notes, thanked the receptionist, and then left the building.

A little over half an hour after that, two middle-aged Italian men, both wearing business suits and carrying briefcases, marched straight into the hotel lobby, deep in conversation, and climbed the stairs to the upper levels. The receptionist didn’t recognize them, but there were a number of new guests at the hotel, and he assumed that the men were new arrivals.

Once they were out of earshot of the reception desk, the two men fell silent. At the top of the stairs, they walked down a corridor and stopped outside one particular room. While one of them watched for any sign of movement, the other man removed a small jemmy from his briefcase, slid the point between the door and jamb, and gave a hard shove. Moments later, they were both inside.

They left the hotel about fifteen minutes later, still talking together and still carrying their briefcases. Again the receptionist ignored them.