Bubbico said, “Several officers and I ran to the road as soon as we heard. But, as I told Director Tasso, he was gone by then. I ordered roadblocks but this is a congested area. We are near the airport and there are present many factories and some farms, of course—and there are many roads and streets by where he could escape.” He opened a tissue and displayed the all-too-familiar noose, made of dark gut.

“Where was it?” Sachs asked. “The noose.”

“There. Near the head,” Bubbico explained.

“The victim? Do we know his identity?” Sachs asked.

Rania said, “Yes, yes. He had gone through the Eurodac procedure. The Dublin Regulation. You are familiar?”

“Yes,” Sachs said.

“He was Malek Dadi, twenty-six. Tunisian by birth but he lived in Libya for the past twenty years, with his family—his parents and sister are still in Tripoli. He had no criminal record and was a classic economic refugee; he’d taken no public political stance in the conflict in Libya and was not a target of any of the factions there. He was not the sort the extremists, like ISIS, would target. He was here simply to make a better life and bring his family over.”

Rania looked down and added, “So very sad. I could not say I know about everybody here. But Malek arrived recently so he is fresher in my memory. He was suffering from depression. Very anxious. He missed his family terribly and was very homesick. We have representatives in the camp of the Italian Council for Refugees—the CIR. They arranged for help for him. Psychological help. I think it might have done him good. But now this…” A look of disgust crossed her face.

Bubbico said, “And then, it was shameful. Some people ran out to the body and stripped things from him. They took his shoes and belt. Any money and his wallet.”

Rania Tasso said, “I was devastated. Yes, people here are desperate but he was one of them. And to steal his clothing! They would have taken this shirt, it seems, but left it merely because of the blood. Terrible.”

“Do you know who took them?” Ercole asked. “The articles might be important evidence.”

Rania and the officer did not. She said, “They vanished.” She waved a hand at the mass of refugees on the other side of the fence, within the camp proper.

She added something that Sachs found interesting: She’d seen a suspicious-looking man the other night, heavyset, looking at her. But he might have been studying the security, or just looking for victims. She had no information about him, other than a general description, and she could not say exactly where he’d been standing.

The Composer?

Daniela and Giovanni, Rossi’s associates, appeared. They’d arrived earlier apparently and had been canvassing. Daniela walked up to her boss and spoke to him in Italian. Then the inspector asked Rania, “Can you make inquiries? Find out if anyone in the camp saw more? The refugees will not speak to us.”