‘That’s a shame for the police. They do their job well, and their reward is to be excluded.’
‘I will put them back in the picture when the time comes. The point is, we might be seeing the start of an upset in the balance of power.’
‘You know I am in the middle of this kidnapping of a girl, which you yourself just told me is unconnected with the Ndrangheta?’
‘I know. I’ll let you go now. But just one more thing.’
‘You said “just one more thing” five minutes ago, Ezio. I’m going now. You get the bill, I’ll get it next time.’ Fossati stood up.
‘Wait. Domenico Megale — the boss in Germany?’
‘What about him?’
‘He has two main points of reference. One is Agazio Curmaci, who is the Mastro di giornata of the German locale. The other is his son, Antonio, who’s always been known as Tony. Tony is the crimine. Tony was once married, but his wife died, leaving him a son, who’s in Calabria. His wife’s surname was Mancuso.’
Fossati sat down again. ‘For God’s sake, Ezio, you could have told me this at the beginning.’
‘No, first I needed to tell you the girl’s kidnapping is not Mafia related.’
‘And now you’re telling me the opposite. Giovanni Resca, her father, wrote article after article detailing the investments made by the Mancusos in Milan. His article specifically names that family, time and time again. They made threats against him.’
‘So are you going to investigate the Mancuso family?’
‘I already am, to the best of my ability with the resources I have.’
‘I told you, it’s not Mafia related. It’s not them.’
‘How can you know?’
‘Like I said, the modus operandi isn’t right, but mainly because we’ve been monitoring the Mancusos closely for some time now. We recently picked up a lot of chat between one of them and someone in Germany. We can’t identify who, but it could be Curmaci and it could be Tony Megale or even Old Megale. But my point is, there is no indication that they are really concerned by Giovanni Resca and his anti-Mafia blogs and articles. I’m telling you this because I think you’ll be wasting your time if you pursue that path while looking for the girl.’
‘Duly noted. It’s not the only line of inquiry I am following.’
‘My advice is don’t concentrate on the Mancusos, OK? It’s not them.’
‘I’ll take that into account,’ said Fossati.
‘But you’re still going to look into them?’
‘Of course I am. How can I not?’
‘I knew you wouldn’t drop that line of inquiry just on my say-so. That’s another reason I wanted to talk to you. Seeing as you, despite my advice to the contrary, will be looking into the Mancusos and their properties, will you let me know if you find anything interesting?’
‘Anything in particular?’
‘Anything at all. Specifically, anything that might be connected to Curmaci, East European criminals, or the murder of the insurance actuary Matteo Arconti.’
‘So while I hunt for a stolen child, I carry out a covert check for you guys in the anti-Mafia?’
‘Only if you are going to waste your time looking where you won’t find the poor child. Don’t get me wrong, Francesco, I would prefer you to find the missing girl, and I wish you would take my advice and follow any other leads.’
‘I will follow other leads, and I see why you think this was not organized crime. But I need to follow this one, too.’
‘Let’s hope you find her, even if…’ Bazza looked down at the discarded skin and bones of his fish.
‘I know,’ said Fossati. ‘Too much time has already passed.’
17
Sunday, 30 August
Locri
‘Pepe, Luca, Giovanni, Enrico, Ruggiero, Rocco. All of you, get over here.’
Pepe rolled his freshly lit cigarette between his fingers, then let it drop lightly to the ground. Luca, Giovanni and Rocco stopped aiming karate kicks at each other, Enrico received a pass from Ruggiero and flicked the ball up and into his hands. They all started walking towards their football coach.
Enrico cast Ruggiero a questioning glance. Ruggiero ignored him. He felt the others picking up on Enrico’s uncertainty and storing it away for future use. Almost certainly none of them knew what the coach wanted, but they knew it was important to look as if they did. Pepe was even nodding, as if he had been expecting this.
‘What is it, coach?’ said Enrico.
‘A little discussion of tactics, down at Mr Basile’s place,’ said the coach. ‘Now.’
‘Not on the pitch?’ asked Enrico, his voice a squeak of protest and surprise.
Luca spat on the ground, just behind Enrico’s heel. ‘You heard him, Enrico.’
‘Are you coming, coach?’ asked Enrico.
‘Maybe later.’ Their coach pulled a clear plastic bag from inside his Adidas tracksuit, and held it open in front of Enrico.
‘What’s that for?’ asked the boy.
‘It’s for putting things into, Enrico. Let’s start with your mobile.’
Enrico turned around and looked at his friends uncomprehendingly. Pepe already had his iPhone out, and was the first to drop it into the bag. Luca, Giovanni and Rocco followed. Ruggiero delayed a little, carefully pulling out his phone, giving Enrico all the time he needed to see what he was supposed to do, then dropped it into the bag. He nodded at Enrico, trying to communicate to him the need for silence and obedience.
His hints weren’t enough.
‘My aunt wants me to call her. She said I have to call if I’m not going straight home after practice.’ He slid open his phone. ‘I’ll call her now, tell her we’re going to the bar. She won’t mind.’
Ruggiero stepped forward and plucked the phone from Enrico’s hand, and tossed it towards the coach who opened the mouth of the plastic bag wide to catch it on the fly. The coach turned quickly on his heel and walked away from them, saying, ‘I’ll see you kids later.’
Pepe was already on his motor scooter, gunning the throttle, checking his lean face and the fit of his sunglasses in the rear-view mirror. Luca clambered on behind him, but Pepe hit him hard in the throat with the heel of his hand, knocking him sprawling to the ground. Luca stood up, dusted himself down and laughed, like it had been a rehearsed stunt. Rocco, who had the other scooter, nodded to Giovanni, who climbed aboard, and they were off, leaving a swirl of dust and a scent of fuel behind.
Pepe said something, his words drowned out by the rip and roaring of the scooter motor as he revved it. Then he let go of the throttle and spoke into the sudden silence, ‘Enrico, get on.’
Enrico looked in panic at Luca, who turned away in disgust, then to Ruggiero, who shrugged. Finally he found his voice. ‘Thanks, Pepe, I can walk. It’s only ten minutes.’
Pepe turned off the motor, dismounted and moved towards Enrico, who retreated behind Ruggiero.
‘You don’t want to ride from me?’
‘I can walk.’
‘Yeah.’ Pepe looked down the hill and over the half-built run-down houses. ‘You’ll be there in ten minutes, right? No detours.’
‘No detours,’ promised Enrico.
Pepe ignored him. ‘Ruggiero, you’ll see to it, won’t you?’
Ruggiero said, ‘I’ll bring him straight there. Along with myself.’
‘You need a scooter to get around on. What are you waiting for?’
‘My mother thinks it should be my father who gets it for me.’
Pepe nodded. ‘That’s good. When is he getting back?’
‘I don’t know these things, and I don’t ask.’
Pepe stared at Ruggiero, before giving him the slightest of nods, imperceptible to the others. Then he jerked his head and Luca, nervously laughing and fingering his throat, climbed aboard again, and they left.
Ruggiero took Enrico by the elbow and propelled him forwards. ‘Come on.’