Suddenly, there was nothing else in the conscious part of his mind as the darkness inside overwhelmed the darkness outside the car.

He did not notice the hundreds of night birds lined up along the edges of the building’s roof or strung out along the telephone lines.

CHAPTER 59

HAMLET OF ARBATAX

TORTOLÌ, PROVINCE OF NUORO

Michael Augustus Stafford walked slowly through the ruins of the mansion on the cliff.

Everything that could break appeared to have been deliberately and viciously smashed. The furniture was slashed, as were the expensive paintings on the wall. He paused in front of a rather nice modernist painting by Dino Basaldella that had to have sold for north of fifty thousand. Now it was tatters. Worthless to anyone. And a number of Auguste Moreau bronzes, each of them signed, were broken or bent out of shape. Clearly, they had been used to do some of the damage in the room. And some of the damage to the staff.

The bodies of the victims were all gone now, but Stafford had photos on his cell phone to match against the dried bloodstains on the carpet, tiles, and walls. Hundreds of shell casings still littered the floor, and bullet holes pocked every possible surface. One round had punched a neat hole through a blue-and-white Yuan dynasty vase without shattering the whole thing. A low-caliber, high-powered round, he judged. He had a couple of boxes of Stinger 22 LR rounds at home that could have done that. It was interesting, though. He was a collector of art and felt a twinge for the lost treasures. But he was more impressed with the amount of damage and the skill insinuated by it.

According to the police report, there had been one intruder and a dog.

“You’re a madman, Ledger,” he said aloud. “Can’t wait to meet you.”

He walked through the place, following the logical path of destruction. Even with sound suppressors and the element of surprise, Ledger must have been moving at incredible speed. Sure, the guards probably thought this place too inaccessible and too tough a nut to crack, and maybe that made them a little lazy, but once the shooting started, they’d have gotten up to speed quickly enough. They were pros.

And Ledger had killed them all.

In the military, that’s called having a John Wayne day. But even so … even with the breaks going his way, the sheer enormity of all this was incredible.

He wondered if he could have done it. This would be at the upper range of anyone’s skill set.

When he reached the master suite at the top of the house, he stopped in the doorway and stared. It looked as if someone had attached a fire hose to a tank full of dark red paint and then cut loose. Stafford tried to do the math on the blood spatter and still came up short.

What had happened here?