Death in Tuscany (45 page)

These were impressive figures, and Anna Giulietti took the leather-bound diary she carried everywhere from her briefcase and started making notes. 'How do you explain it?'

'Let's be clear about one thing. Sicily doesn't automatically mean Mafia, and some of these companies may well be clean. But it's a fact that the Nineties were when the State hit organised crime in Sicily the hardest, making the area a lot less safe for them
...
I remember this businessman in Sicily at the beginning of the Nineties, no criminal record but obvious Mafia connections, his name escapes me. He decided to turn State's evidence, and it emerged that he was a kind of 'Minister of Public Works' for the Mafia. He was always there in the shadows, making sure the Mafia got all the best contracts, especially for public works. That may have been when businesses with Mafia connections started to feel the heat and gradually emigrated to other parts of the country, including Tuscany'

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.