Death in Tuscany

by Michele Giuttari

  Anna Giulietti finished writing and closed her diary. She looked pensive but determined. 'Thanks, Michele. I think we need to get the Organised Crime Division in on this to get a better idea of what's going on. Perhaps they could start by seeing if there's been anything suspicious about the adjudication of competitive tenders for public works in Tuscany. But is the Sicilian company that's running the quarries part of all this?'

  'I have no idea. We know marble dust is used in the building industry, but I suspect their real activity is drugs. And I think I know what to do while I'm waiting for your request to the Head of the State Police to go through.'

  'What?'

  'Carry out the orders in Lupo's coded message,' he replied cryptically.

  'Would you care to be more specific?'

  'When the time is right.'

  All right. But don't get into trouble.'

  'In my profession?'

  Anna merely smiled cheerlessly.

  Are you going back to Florence?' he asked her.

  'Why, aren't you?'

  28

  There were only three Franchis in the Carrara phone book and Ferrara found the one he was looking for at the second attempt. His name was Emilio.

  Emilio remembered the academic who had visited the quarry and was happy to help. Marble was his life, and he was flattered and excited at the thought that he could contribute to a book about it. Since he had to go to Marina di Carrara in the afternoon, he suggested they meet in the Bar Imperiale in the church square, near the harbour, which had small rooms where they would be able to talk without being disturbed.

  Then Ferrara called Lojelo. He told him his plan and asked him to join him outside the Imperiale. Finally, he phoned Petra to tell her he wouldn't be coming back to Florence that night.

  He got to the Piazza Gino Monconi and waited in the blazing sun, smoking his cigar. By the time he saw Lojelo walking towards him, he was bathed in sweat.

  They went inside the bar and waited for Franchi. He was not long in coming.

  Once they were seated, Ferrara introduced Superintendent

  Lojelo. Franchi was clearly taken aback, and shut up like a clam.

  'I'm also a police officer. Chief Superintendent Michele Ferrara, head of the Florence Squadra Mobile. I'm sorry I misled you, but it was necessary. We're involved in an operation which requires the utmost secrecy. We need you, Signor Franchi, and your expertise. Are you willing to help us?'

  Still confused, the old man did not reply.

  'We have reason to believe that the company running the Tonelli quarries is involved in illegal activities. If that's the case, I think you honest quarrymen should be more interested than anyone else in having them brought to justice. They may be tarnishing the reputation of your profession. We need to investigate, but without the company being aware of it, otherwise we may never get to the people who are really responsible.'

  And what's it got to do with me?' Franchi asked finally.

  'You know marble like the back of your hand, am I right?'

  'Well, yes,' the old man replied proudly.

  'So listen.'

  And Ferrara again expounded his plan.

  At 10 p.m. on the night of 15 August, Chief Superintendent Ferrara, Superintendent Lojelo, three police constables and Emilio Franchi were in the Falcone e Borsellino Park, opposite the commercial port where the marble blocks intended for export were stored, waiting to be loaded onto freighters. The old man had a heavy bag of tools with him.

  There was traffic on the road that ran alongside the harbour, but the pavements were deserted. For the festivities most people were further north, where the pubs, ice cream parlours and funfairs were concentrated.

  They reached the entrance to the port, which was blocked by a long sliding metal door. To the left was the Port Authority building, to the right a low yellow building that housed the Border Police and the Coast Guard.

  Lojelo, using his authority over the Border Police for the first time, had no difficulty in obtaining entry and, much more importantly, the total complicity of the guards.

  The depot was illuminated by floodlights mounted on three tall steel posts, six floodlights on each post, and by the lights on board an imposing Japanese freighter which occupied almost the entire length of the quay.

  The officer on duty led them into the office where they kept the registers of the goods left in the depot. In them, the place in which they were stored, their final destination, and the date of loading were all noted.

  'Do you know where the goods going to America are?' Ferrara asked.

  Tm sorry, I wouldn't know that. The customs people deal with that. We just do a brief check of the contents. But it should be in the registers.'

  They heard three explosions in rapid succession.

  'Fireworks,' Lojelo said. The August bank holiday festivities were starting.

  It took almost ten minutes to find out where the marble blocks belonging to Mining Extractions were located and how many of them there were.

  'This way' Ferrara said to the men, leaving the office with Lojelo. 'There are five blocks in all,' he said to Franchi as they walked.

  'Not many. I told you they don't produce much.'

  'I don't think production is what interests them.'

  They moved with some difficulty through the labyrinth of aisles, between piles of crudely cut stones.

  From the direction of the sea came the sound of a ship's siren.

  The five blocks of white marble were all numbered. The numbers were stamped on the stone, along with the words MINING EXTRACTIONS and, separately, PHILADELPHIA USA.

  One of the constables, who had a video camera with him, started filming them.

  'Can you manage?' Ferrara asked.

  'There's enough artificial lighting. It won't come out perfectly but it'll do.'

  'Good.' He turned to Franchi. 'Now it's up to you.' Franchi approached the first block and started to examine

  it.

  It wasn't an easy task, because the beams from the floodlights only allowed him to see parts of the surface, while the rest remained in shadow. After a cursory examination, he took a mallet from his bag and started hitting the block, without marking it. The knocks made a slightly hollow sound.

  He repeated the same experiment on all five blocks, then stopped and rubbed his cheek pensively. Finally he went up to the third block, which had been hoisted onto two of the others, and hit it again, harder this time. A chip flew off. At the same time, a green rocket rose into the sky and exploded into a large ball of golden sparks which fell slowly towards the sea, bathing the scene for a moment in a ghostly light.

  Ferrara saw the old man shaking his head with displeasure.

  'I hope we don't have to lift it, or we'll be here all night,' he muttered. 'Is there a ladder anywhere?'

  'Find him one,' Lojelo ordered his men.

  When they had brought it, he propped it against the block and climbed it, dragging the heavy bag behind him. He seemed frail, but he moved precisely and confidently.

  He disappeared over the top of the block.

  A few minutes went by, then they heard a cry of satisfaction and Franchi's face appeared over the edge.

  'It's here, I found it!'

  Ferrara and Lojelo scrambled up the ladder and joined him. Two more fireworks exploded.

  'Here,' the old man said, aiming his torch.

  They couldn't see anything. Only the surface of the marble.

  'There's a piece patched up with cultured marble, can't you see?' Franchi said, and neither Ferrara nor Lojelo had the heart to disappoint him by admitting that they hadn't the faintest idea what he was talking about. So they said nothing.

  Franchi dipped into his bag again and took out a battery drill with a long, thick bit.

  'No, hold on!' Ferrara said in alarm, holding him back. 'If you make a hole, they'll notice.'

  'They won't notice. I told you, this is cultured marble. It's like a putty made of limestone and marble dust. I'll put
it back as good as new, don't worry'

  He bent, chose the best spot, and was about to start drilling the hole when Ferrara stopped him again.

  'Get the constable with the camera over here,' he said to Lojelo.

  Only when the constable was ready to film the scene did Ferrara give the order to start.

  The bit went in quite quickly for about four inches, then sank through.

  'You see?' Franchi said, looking pleased with himself. 'It's empty underneath.' He pulled out the drill and used the mallet to widen the hole. When it was wide enough, he slid his arm in, then took it out again, holding a small bag of white powder.

  'This certainly isn't marble dust,' he said, almost laughing, and his lined face took on the iridescent colours of the fireworks which were lighting up the sky all the way along the coast.

  The event was greeted from the big freighter with cries of joy in Japanese and a popping of champagne corks.

  Even Ferrara and Lojelo were smiling. This was a good way to celebrate the August bank holiday.

  29

  Ferrara had spent what little remained of that night in Lojelo's apartment.

  With one thing and another, they had stayed at the depot until almost three in the morning. They had extracted all the bags of drugs from their hiding place. Including those that the drill had made a hole in, mixing the heroin with the marble dust, they had calculated that there must be around fifty kilos. If you multiplied that by five, which was the number of blocks, you got an almost unheard-of quantity. Two hundred and fifty kilos. Roughly speaking the equivalent of five or six billion lire. On the market, suitably cut, that might even give a figure seven times higher.

  Lojelo was all for seizing the drugs there and then, but Ferrara, who knew from the register that the blocks were due to be sent out on 23 August, preferred to have them put back before Franchi filled in the hole and reconstructed the surface of the marble. Lojelo had given in, reluctantly, and when they were in his apartment he had reopened the discussion.

  'I'm sorry, Chief Superintendent, but I think it's my duty to make a report first thing tomorrow morning. This is an extremely serious crime, and I can't just pretend nothing happened. As you know, in these cases there's a legal requirement to confiscate the evidence. Of course I'll mention that it was your initiative, I don't intend to steal the credit, but I'll also have to say that I didn't proceed with the confiscation at your express request.'

  'Listen, Lojelo, if this gets out, and it will if you write your report, the real bosses are sure to get away'

  He didn't say that if they got away, then his hopes - so steadfastly nourished - of finding Massimo vanished.

  'I realise that, and I'll point it out in my report. My chiefs will have to assume that responsibility, but I have to do my duty according to the regulations. I have to inform my Commissioner, my Public Prosecutor and even the National Narcotics Division.'

  'The law also allows the Prosecutor to issue an order delaying the confiscation depending on the needs of the investigation, if more time is required to gather evidence, or to identify and arrest the members of a criminal conspiracy'

  All right. If you like, tomorrow morning I'll inform the deputy prosecutor coordinating the investigation into the murder of Claudia Pizzi and get his opinion before making my report.'

  'There's no need. The Prosecutor's Department of Florence is dealing with the case. I'll make sure you get your order.'

  'I don't understand. As you know, for some offences, including those relative to drug trafficking, we don't come under the jurisdiction of Florence, but of Genoa. The murder of Claudia Pizzi took place here, the drugs were found here ... so how could Florence . . .?'

  'Trust me. How do you think the drugs got to the depot? What we did tonight was part of a much wider investigation into organised crime in the whole of Tuscany, including Massa-Carrara.'

  This wider investigation had barely got under way, but Ferrara thought it was worthwhile exaggerating a little, in order to convince Lojelo. For the same reason, he also decided to tell him all he knew about the expansion of Sicilian companies in Tuscany.

  'The operation is being coordinated by Deputy Prosecutor Anna Giulietti. She'll make sure you get your order. Then everything will be above board.'

  All right . . . but we'll have to inform the National Narcotics Division in case we need international cooperation. The drugs seemed intended for the United States, specifically Philadelphia

  No problem. We'll do everything we need to do. We're also interested in who the drugs were going to, which means the DEA will have to be involved.'

  On the morning of Thursday 16th, as soon as decency allowed, Ferrara phoned Anna Giulietti.

  'Good morning. I searched the depot in the port of Carrara with the help of Superintendent Lojelo and some of his trusted men. We did it during the night, to minimise the risk of being discovered. The results exceeded all our expectations. We found at least fifty kilos of heroin ready to be shipped to America. Perhaps five times that. . . two hundred and fifty kilos!'

  'Have you gone crazy, Michele? What have you been up to?'

  'It's all completely certified and documented. Now I need you to issue Superintendent Lojelo with an urgent order to delay confiscation. As I'm sure you'll appreciate, the secrecy of the whole operation depends on it.'

  It was a good thing that Anna Giulietti was a smart woman - a prosecutor with balls, as he had once called her.

  She understood immediately. She asked him if Lojelo was there, and he put him on to give her the address where the order should be sent. Then she spoke to Ferrara again.

  'I can't mention your name on the order, Michele. You're still officially suspended. I'll stick to generalities.'

  'It doesn't matter. Don't worry'

  'I want you in my office as soon as possible. You need to tell me the whole thing in detail. I get the impression this is all much bigger than we thought.'

  'That's my impression, too.'

  Now that he had set Lojelo's mind at rest, Ferrara was able to leave for Florence, secure in the knowledge that for a few days there was no risk that the gang would be alerted. Not too many, though: the operation would take its course and sooner or later their sins would find them out.

  Back in Florence, Ferrara did not go straight to see Anna Giulietti. He went to his apartment first, filled Petra in on what had been happening, and then called Rizzo. He did not tell him about the heroin, but did mention that the request for his reinstatement had been sent off and that he expected to be back at Headquarters soon. He asked him if there was any news, but there wasn't. Then he asked to speak to Fanti.

  Anything new on Bellomonte di Mezzo?'

  'I'm in contact with my colleague in Trapani, chief. He's doing the best he can, but he told me again that I shouldn't be under any illusions. The town is practically all in the hands of the Mafia, from the mayor to the local councillors to the court ushers.'

  'We're in a mess, in other words. Tell your colleague to keep at it, but not to expose himself. Life is cheap in a place like that. Listen, is Ciuffi there by any chance?'

  'I'll check, chief

  Ciuffi was the most suitable person to talk to about the developments in Carrara, and Ferrara, preferring not to go to the office, arranged to meet him at the Belvedere. He would go to see Anna Giulietti after that: he'd probably have more to tell her after talking to Ciuffi, who was his expert in the field.

  They met an hour later, in Ferrara's parked Mercedes. Ferrara had kept the engine running, so that the air conditioning could still function.

  Ferrara told Ciuffi everything, right from the beginning. When he mentioned the amount of heroin they had found in one block of marble, Ciuffi, mentally multiplying by five, let out a prolonged whistle of admiration.

  'It's the haul of the century, chief! They're bound to reinstate you now, unless they transfer you to Rome to be Head of the State Police!'

  'I don't know about that, Florence is more than enough for me. But I d
idn't call you so you could flatter me. There's something about all this that doesn't feel right. If these people are using the blocks of marble to ship the drugs to America, what in your opinion do they do with the marble dust, which is supposedly their main activity? They can't use it all to cut the heroin, surely?'

  Ciuffi thought about it for a while, then said, 'It's certainly ingenious. I'd never have thought of using the marble quarries, and I've been in lots of seminars, including international ones, where we've come up with all kinds of scenarios . . . Supplying the American market with drugs from Asia is one of the most lucrative businesses in the whole of the underworld. This has to be a very powerful organisation, chief, which means they're also extremely dangerous . . .' He seemed to be thinking aloud. 'But even the national market isn't bad, and if these people have quantities like that at their disposal, you can bet they're exploiting the stuff for all it's worth . . . The marble dust could be a good excuse for transporting it freely around Italy, don't you think? It's used in the building industry, isn't that right?'

  'Not just that. Paper mills, farms, everything

  'In the whole of Italy. What more could you want? You drive around in a lorry full of marble dust and in the back you carry sachets of samples ..."

  'Tanker lorries, actually' Ferrara corrected him.

  'Works out the same, doesn't it?' Ciuffi said, frowning.

  'Yes, works out the same.'

  'You did say tanker lorries?'

  'Yes, why?'

  'Nothing. Just something I remembered, I'll have to check up on it in the office . . . but I'd wager those Albanians we took in last week were using the same suppliers.'