Blood Symbols by Izak Botha

Author:Izak Botha [Botha, Izak]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780620738507
Published: 2016-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

Schreider sat hunched at his desk, his elbows pressed into the arms of his chair, his chin slumped on a pair of clenched fists. His dressing down at the Penitentiary had angered him, but it had not compared with the fury he had felt when Verretti had pulled a gun on him. The incident was entirely his fault, of course. He should not have lost his cool. His misjudgment would certainly cost him. Verretti getting the better of him spelt the end of his career. His perfect record was ruined.

The colonel’s eyes shifted to the wind-up alarm clock on his desk. It was already half past four. In little more than a half an hour, most of the staff would be leaving for the day. Not being able to take statements from those who had heard or seen something irked him. It made no sense. Every aspect of the crime should be receiving equal consideration. His blood boiled again at the thought that Verretti would fail to take care of the important details. What kind of an investigation did that meatball think this was? All the man cared about was his damned ego. Mounting an internationally unsanctioned pursuit obviously appeared far more impressive than properly investigating the minutiae.

After reviewing the morning’s events, Schreider’s thoughts focused on the murder in the Penitentiary vault. Something about the priest’s wounds still bothered him. His mind clouded over, and he forced himself upright. He should not be carrying on like this. He had to get it together. He activated the intercom and called for Weber.

Weber entered minutes later, beret in hand. ‘Where are we going?’

‘The morgue,’ Schreider said, holstering his pistol.

‘Did they call?’

Schreider could not say why he needed to go there. He just felt the urge to inspect Father Yilmaz’s corpse. With the pursuit coming so quickly after the murder and the Maggiore removing the Father’s remains from the vault before anyone had had a chance to examine it closely, made it likely they had missed something.

Marching down the Via del Belvedere, Schreider hoped the coroner had not left already, but he would break in if necessary. The cardinals had behaved strangely in the vault, and someone needed to find out why. In less than an hour Verretti would be in Antakya. He dreaded what would happen once the inspector apprehended the suspects. If the gendarmerie’s treatment of the bomber was any indication, the two fugitives would be turned to bratwurst. ‘Not again and not while I’m Oberst,’ Schreider decided. He would do whatever it took to stop Verretti from getting creative with the law again.

Weber appeared stressed. He had never seen his commander act so out-of-character. ‘You have to let me on board, Oberst,’ he said, matching his commander’s stride. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.’

Schreider longed to tell the captain about the secret letter, but he had pledged absolute secrecy. On the other hand, with the Church withholding important information, he now felt relieved of his sworn responsibilities.

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