missing police car, “I will personally get back to you as soon as there is any news. In the meantime Maria the number I’m ringing you from is my own mobile number. If you can think of anything else please don’t hesitate to call. Don’t worry Maria. We will find him as soon as we can.”
She thanked him and he waited until the line went dead. De Luca reached into his trouser pocket and took out his keys. He selected one and opened the drawer in his desk, reached in and took out a 9mm Beretta, checked it and put it in it’s holster on the belt around his waist.
Thirty minutes since he’d spoken to Ferrara and De Luca left the police station and got into the black Lancia that was waiting for him.
“Have you got details of Balotelli’s patrol patterns?”
“Yes sir. Did you speak to the wife?”
De Luca nodded.
“She wasn’t much help. Just kept bleating on about how he’d never done this sort of thing before. He’s probably been shagging some bit on the side all night. When I catch up with him I’ll have his balls for not returning his car. The tax payers own that car not him!”
“Yes sir. Did you tell his wife all this?”
De Luca turned his head.
“Of course I didn’t. I told her we were doing everything we could and that there must be a perfectly good reason. But I’ll tell you this. If he’s used that car for anything other than police work we won’t have to worry about the wife killing him. I’ll do it myself.”
“Yes sir.”
“Now. Where does this Balotelli patrol?”
“I quickly checked with records and he…..” Ferrara pulled out a map and pointed to the A12 road, “He issues most of his tickets here. He books motorists for overtaking on the white lines.”
De Luca was reading the map.
“I know it well. We’ll start there.”
De Luca got out of the black Lancia and stretched his legs. Ferrara had stopped the car at the large run off area that was triangular in shape. Armco barriers stopped anything from tumbling off the cliffs. De Luca looked down the road at the approaching traffic. A Porsche sped past a lorry, overtaking on the white lines. The two detectives stared at the driver who slowed down and looked guiltily at them as he drove past.
“I can see why he likes to sit here and catch offenders,” De Luca said, “There’s another one.”
This time it was a speeding BMW. De Luca watched another two cars break the law before turning his back on the traffic. He looked at tyre marks left in the dirt. Some were clearly HGV’S or coaches. No doubt providing tourists with photographic opportunities. Many were car tracks. One of which caught his eye.
“Hey Mario. You’ve got one of those I-phones haven’t you. Get over here with it.”
Ferrara offered his phone.
“These have a really good camera on them don’t they?”
“Very good.”
“Take some pictures of all these tyre marks. Especially this one.”
Ferrara began flicking the touch screen on his I-phone until he got the camera symbol.
“Just stills or video?”
“Do both.”
“Yes sir. Why am I photographing tyre marks?”
“Why?”
“Yes why?”
De Luca smiled at his apprentice. He had much to teach the young detective.
“The Carabinieri had new vehicles earlier this year didn’t they?”
Ferrara nodded while clicking away.
“To my knowledge, apart from the vans the cars were all Alfa Romeo’s.”
“Yes.”
“Then they would have all been supplied with the same brand of tyres if straight from the factory.”
“So if the cars are all new they would still be on their first set of tyres.”
“Correct and one of these tracks may match the tyres on Balotelli’s Alfa and if I’m right I think it’s this one.”
Ferrara took photographs of the tracks in as many angles as he could.
“Get those sent to Ezio in forensics straight away.”
“Yes sir,” Ferrara began sending the MMS data.
“And tell him I want analysis immediately. The moment he can pinpoint make and brand.”
Midway through the messages being sent Ferrara’s phone rang in his hand.
“It’s Ezio,” Ferrara said answering.
The conversation was very brief.
“They’ve got a location for Balotelli’s last known position.”
De Luca reached into the Lancia for the map. Ferrara drew his finger on the map until he found the coordinates he was searching for.
“Balotelli’s car’s tracker last reported from this area here. It’s an old abandoned airfield.”
De Luca folded the map.
“I’ll drive,” he said as Ferrara raced round to the passenger side. De Luca reached out of the driver’s side window and placed a single blue