Good to believe. Shit to do surveillance and not believe.
Ciccio said, ‘He has to show himself. We have to see him before the place can be hit. Seen, photographed, identified. We’ve got none of that. I’m saying this’ll be our last shift here.’
‘You crying?’
‘If he’s here, we’ve missed him. The capo will get hurt bad.’
Fabio said, ‘I “believe” in tacchino in gelatina. Nothing better.’
‘I don’t want to quit.’
‘Shut up.’
‘I hate to lose.’
‘He’s here. I’m certain of it. It’s how they are – never far from base. Maybe it’s us – wrong location, too far back . . .’
‘That’s crazy,’ Ciccio murmured. ‘We looked. We had the aerials. We couldn’t be closer or the dogs would have us. Then we’d be off the face of the planet, fed to the pigs or buried at the back of a cave. Take your own advice and shut up.’
The day wore on, and they almost slept until there was a convulsion from Ciccio, and a curse from Fabio: another scorpion fly in the bottle, the perforated cap back on, and the thing was trapped. Another diversion, better than the usual talk. It was good to look at the captured fly with a tail that looked lethal. Interesting to watch it scrabble for freedom, and fail.
There were two hard chairs in the interview room. They had walked back to the police station.
Jago Browne was surprised that the investigator had invited him in. ‘It’s been a long day and a traumatic one for you. I’d like to offer you coffee and straighten out a couple of points.’
Jago had been left alone. He checked his phone. Four messages from the FrauBoss, which displayed her irritation at him taking sick leave, then not answering his landline, emails or her texts. The investigator had come back into the room with two coffees, cardboard mugs, on top of his Apple iPad. He passed Jago one of the coffees, switched on the iPad, produced a packet of biscuits and split the wrapper. Jago’s anger ebbed over what had been done to the girl, but still burned for what had been done to himself. He sipped the coffee, which was dreadful, and listened, as was expected of him.
‘You think me idle, uncaring, and you are entitled to your opinion. I do what I can and don’t attempt the impossible because that way my time is wasted and I burn. They defeat me. Understand. We are the power house of Europe. It is natural that another colossus, from the top of European criminal activity, should make a second home in Germany. They are not Sicilian or Neapolitan, but ’Ndrangheta from Calabria. They seek to be, as you would say, ‘under the radar’. They infiltrate and bring with them their money, huge profits from cocaine–, weapons–, child– and any other trafficking. We are a country and a people burdened by the past. We had a police state. We had draconian laws. Then came 1945 and an Allied military government, the imposition of democracy, and a constitution with the purpose of preventing the abuses that a Fascist government had practised. That is very good. The freedom of the individual is guaranteed. The police cannot abuse ordinary people. Much to admire . . . and it is admired hugely by the Calabrian gangster families who come here. They buy a lot and sell a little, and they have created a diaspora inside Germany. They are allowed, almost, to walk free. The young man who sliced a girl’s face is Marcantonio. He is twenty. Don’t let your coffee get cold.’