Death in Tuscany (4 page)

As you heard, the likeliest hypothesis at the moment, given that no one has come forward, is that she was an illegal immigrant. She may have fallen into the clutches of the Albanians or the Romanians or God knows who.'

'Right, chief,' Ascalchi said. 'We can check out the pushers, but it's a jungle out there . . .'

'So buy a machete. But not yet. For the moment you don't have to venture any further than Narcotics Division. True, you might come across a few savages there, but don't be deceived, they're good people. See if there any current investigations into cases of heroin overdose, and ask them how they see the situation in the city and the surrounding areas. Oh, and also try and find out the minimum age at which minors have access to drugs.' Thinking that Ascalchi hadn't quite understood, he added as he stood up, 'What age they start, is that clear?'

'I did understand what you meant, chief,' Ascalchi protested, also standing.

Narcotics was one of the divisions of the
Squadra Mobile
and occupied the last four rooms in the corridor on the first floor of Police Headquarters, the area furthest from prying eyes. Superintendent Ascalchi, who had never been there before, wondered if the choice of location had been deliberate. Certainly, the atmosphere was quite different from the rest of the Squad, and so were the officers, who were all very young and casually dressed. The men wore earrings, and the women had pierced navels, which they left proudly uncovered.

'Do you know where Ciuffi is?' he asked the first person he saw: a tall, well-built guy he wouldn't have liked to meet on a dark night in a street on the outskirts of town. Not even in the centre of town, come to think of it.

'Superintendent Ciuffi to you. Who the hell do you think you are?'

'Superintendent Ascalchi,' he replied coldly. 'Ferrara sent me.'

'I'm sorry, sir . . . Superintendent Ciuffi is in the last room on the left.'

'Thanks. Don't put yourself to any trouble, I can find the way' He left the officer rooted to the spot, looking astonished and mortified.

The head of the section was a friendly, talkative thirty-two-year-old Neapolitan. Ferrara had met him in a canteen during a summer seminar organised by the American police, where he had been doing a course on anti-Mafia strategies in Italy and Ciuffi was on a refresher course given by the DEA. After talking for fifteen minutes over a dish of cold chicken that tasted of plastic and overboiled potatoes - everyone was overdosing on ketchup and mustard to make it palatable - Ferrara had realised that this man was a first-class officer and decided that if ever he had his own squad he wanted him in it at all costs.

Unlike his colleagues, Ciuffi dressed normally. Ascalchi had only seen him once before, when he had arrived at Florence Police Headquarters for the first time and Ferrara had introduced him to all his colleagues.

'Plenty of work, eh?'

'This isn't Rome or Naples, but we aren't lagging far behind, I can tell you. There are lots of drugs around, and it's hard to keep up. We do what we can, as you can see.' Ciuffi pointed at the walls, which were covered with posters and newspaper cuttings about the team's most recent operations: a proud record, which Ferrara had tolerated because it was an incentive to further improvement. 'But there aren't that many of us, so what can we do?'

'How many exactly?'

'Twenty in all, more men than women. Most of them prepared to go undercover among the dealers.'

'I noticed. I was thinking I should raid the place.'

Luigi Ciuffi smiled. 'Real characters, eh? And you didn't see all of them. The best ones we keep in mothballs.'

Ascalchi didn't envy them. These were men who, when they went undercover, didn't come into the office and sometimes didn't even see their families for long periods. They were a select few, who ran the greatest risks and needed uncommon courage and a really cool head.

'So Ferrara has sent you to help me out, has he?' Ciuffi joked.

'Oh, no, not at all! Quite the opposite, you may be able to help us out

Ciuffi sighed. 'Don't worry, I got the idea. Okay, shoot.' A young girl died of an overdose yesterday' 'The one in the Ospedale Nuovo?'

Obviously, as head of Narcotics, he had read the initial report from the hospital. 'Yes.'

'We don't know anything about her yet. What's your interest?'

'We need to know if you're investigating any cases of heroin overdose where the stuff is either too pure or it's been cut with something harmful.'

'Affirmative.'

A lot of them?'

'Yes, we've had a sudden rash of them. Not that there weren't any before, of course there were. But they weren't so frequent and they were almost always relative overdoses. What we're getting now are a lot of absolute overdoses from heroin cut with starch, talcum powder, sometimes strychnine, the usual things, you know? There've been six cases in the last two months alone. Deputy Prosecutor Erminia Cosenza is in overall charge of the investigation.'

'Hold on, I don't quite follow. What's all this about relative and absolute overdoses?'

Luigi Ciuffi seemed pleased to have a chance to show off his expertise to a colleague. An absolute overdose is caused by the consumption of a dose, pure or cut, that's above general tolerance levels. A relative overdose is caused by the consumption of a dose higher than the particular tolerance level of a specific individual, and that can depend on a number of factors.'

Ascalchi ignored his colleague's somewhat didactic tone. 'So in cases of absolute overdose the dose would be fatal for anyone, whereas in cases of relative overdose only for some and not for others?'

'Precisely. And what we're getting in Florence at the moment is a lot of absolute overdoses.'

'How do you explain that?'

'The likeliest explanation is that there's a gang war going on for control of the territory' 'Between who?'

As you know, the Albanians are trying to muscle in on various illegal activities in Florence - including drugs, of course. I don't mean soft drugs, hashish, marijuana, they've been in absolute control there for some time. I'm talking about heroin, cocaine, amphetamine, crack - the whole kit and caboodle.'

Even Ascalchi was aware that Albanian gangs were active in Florence. He knew that for some years now there had been a huge increase in the number of prostitutes from Eastern Europe. The traditional figure of the pimp was on the way out, replaced by specialised groups who recruited women abroad, smuggled them into Italy, and once they had arrived, forced them into prostitution. The groups were well organised, efficient, highly feared, extremely violent and determined. They had made a lot of money from prostitution and now, if Ciuffi's hypothesis was correct, were investing heavily in drugs.

'One sign of this,' Ciuffi continued, 'is the number of fights and attempted murders involving North African pushers.'

'I don't follow you.'

'For years the North Africans have been the main, if not the exclusive suppliers to addicts in Florence and the province.'

'I know that, but where do the Albanians fit in?' 'Let me finish. They're the ones who supply the North Africans, but they're playing a double game.' 'What do you mean?'

'They're trying to lose them their customers. If the rumour starts spreading among addicts that the stuff the North Africans are selling isn't as good as it used to be and puts you in a coma, they've won. The addicts are going to look for other sources of supply, and the Albanians will be waiting for them with open arms.'

'So the bastards are supplying these stupid dealers with crap to make them lose face.'

'That's what we think. As I said, it's the likeliest explanation, and one we're actively working on. The Albanians are trying to monopolise the drug market, not just wholesale but retail too. We've had some tip-offs that bear this out, and we've got a few names . . . But you know what the Albanians are like! They never stay in one place for very long. Today they're in Florence, tomorrow in Milan, Naples, Turin . . . And the gangs do each other favours, swap members. With all these people working in different places, it's harder to identify and investigate them.'

Ascalchi nodded.

Extreme mobility was one of the characteristics of the Albanian underworld. The traditional methods of surveillance didn't work any more. Most of the time, no sooner had you located one of the criminals than you lost all trace of him, because the Albanians rarely used the same means of transport or the same telephones twice.

In addition, they frequently resorted to violence in their daily operations and as a means of resolving conflicts, had fingers in many different pies, used intimidation, and had a code of silence typical of Mafia-style organisations. Organised into clans, following the traditions of their home country, they used the same methods as the Mafia but with even greater determination and cruelty.

'I see what you're saying. If this girl who died yesterday was supplied by a North African who'd been screwed by an Albanian, we're fucked, right?'

'If you're thinking of nabbing the dealer who gave her the stuff, I'd say you were. Either we grab him in some other operation, or you forget about it.'

'Sorry, one more thing. At what age do the kids around here start taking drugs?'

'Why?'

'Because the girl in the Ospedale Nuovo may have been only thirteen, or even less.'

A grave expression appeared on Ciuffi's face. 'Really? We came across a boy of sixteen two months ago. Younger than that I find hard to believe. Though it's hard to know where the limits are these days. I don't know if there's anything that would surprise us any more.'

Ascalchi went back to Ferrara to report, but only Fanti was there.

'Involuntary manslaughter,' he said in answer to Fanti's questioning look. 'The culprit is a black bastard who doesn't know his arse from his elbow manipulated by a white bastard who strikes at random and doesn't give a damn who the victim is. Got that?'

'I'll pass it on.'

'Forget it,' Superintendent Ascalchi said, not sure if Fanti was serious or pulling his leg. 'Just tell him I was looking for him.'

'Join the queue, Superintendent. The Commissioner has been looking for him too.'

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