Death in Tuscany (59 page)

After that, Ferrara caught only snatches over the din of voices and dishes and orders hurled from the room to the barman.

'. . . you have to come here this time . . .' 'there's no danger . . .' 'that's your problem, once I've handed it over . . .'

The negotiation took a while, and Ferrara felt a pang in his heart when he caught the words '. . . do you still have the man . . .?' but he couldn't read the answer in the old man's glacial expression.

Nor in the way he stared at Ferrara after he had put the phone down and was coming towards him.

'Well?' Ferrara asked.

'Ten o'clock tonight, quarry
225.'
'Does he still have Massimo Verga?'

The man let a few seconds go by, still looking in Ferrara's eyes, enigmatically. 'Yes,' he said at last.

The lump in his throat - and in his soul - dissolved all at once in an expression that surprised him more than Laprua, but would have moved Petra.

'Gott sei Dank!'
he exclaimed and closed his eyes.

They had gone back to Laprua's apartment, where they had gone over the preparations. Ferrara did not want to go before making sure there would be no other contacts, even though all the telephones were being tapped and he felt quite calm because everything that Laprua had done so far had showed that he was keeping to his side of the bargain. In any case, he preferred to wait there for Rizzo's call.

Laprua said he was feeling tired and asked permission to go to his bedroom and take a nap. He left his mobile in the living room. Ferrara could only hope he didn't have another one.

Rizzo's call came just after two. 'Chief, it's all arranged. They're ready to move
in.
Everything's going well at the Prosecutor's Department, too.'

'What happened there?'

'Zancarotti has come clean about everything . . . even the murder of Claudia Pizzi.' 'Excellent, Francesco.'

'They only finished a few minutes ago and Ciuffi is joining me at Headquarters with a copy of the statement and the request from the Prosecutor's Department to the Head of the State Police to provide immediate protection for Zancarotti and his family'

'Good. We'll talk about that
...
In the meantime get the men together as agreed. We'll meet at the police station in Carrara at six.' 'Okay, chief.'

Laprua, having finished his nap or perhaps having been disturbed by this conversation, came back into the living room and they went over the strategy.

They fine-tuned the last details and Ferrara said goodbye.

'We'll pick you up about five, is that okay?'

'I'll be waiting.'

39

'A black Ford Fiesta with four people on board, a red lorry with a green tarpaulin, no passengers, just the driver, and behind it a silver Alfa 156 with another four people.'

Superintendent Ascalchi was hidden in the vegetation just after the last bend in the dirt road leading to quarry 225, talking on his two-way radio to Chief Superintendent Ferrara and the two strategically placed patrols, one just above and one just below the Fantiscritti fork, which the Albanians would have to pass on their way back.

'I'll give you the licence numbers
..."

It was 9.45 p.m.

Ferrara was in the quarry, waiting for the convoy, along with Salvatore Laprua, Superintendent Rizzo, Inspector Sergi, Sergeant Fanti, two constables and one of the workers. The other workers, almost all unskilled labour put in by the Mafia, had been sent home in the afternoon by Laprua, who had kept just that one worker because he trusted him blindly.

Ferrara and Fanti ran to hide behind the tanker lorry. Laprua stayed where he was, next to the sheet metal prefab which served as an office. Rizzo and the others spread out,

although they all remained well within sight, close to Laprua, as if they were his men.

Ferrara would have preferred to be closer to the thick of the action, so that he could control it, but he was too well known and he did not want to take the risk of being recognised by the Albanians.

At last the vehicles appeared: first the Ford Fiesta, then the lorry, and finally the Alfa Romeo. They stopped at the entrance to the clearing.

The scene was illuminated by the moonlight reflected off the white wall of the mountain, as well as the weak lighting from the prefab and the car headlights.

The Albanians got out of their vehicles.

Nine of them in all, armed with pistols and submachine guns. Two of them stayed close to the lorry, ready to open fire at the least sign of danger.

From his position, Ferrara squinted with the effort to make out Massimo's silhouette in one of the vehicles, but they all looked empty. The hostages must be in the lorry, hidden under the tarpaulin. He tried to figure out which of the men was Viktor Makregi, but as far as he could see none of them bore any resemblance to the identikit that had been put together from Elisa Rocca's description.

As Laprua had predicted, the Albanians' boss had been too cautious and mistrustful to show up.

For a few minutes, they were all still, sizing each other up. Then the Albanians, satisfied that no one on the other side seemed to be carrying a weapon, talked briefly among themselves, and one of them, either the man in charge of the operation or the one who spoke Italian best, started walking towards them.

Laprua did not go to meet him. He stayed where he was and waited for the man to come closer, as if to underline his superior rank in the hierarchy.

'Where are they?' he asked, when the man, who was short and sturdy with black hair and sky-blue eyes, was near him.

'And heroin?' the Albanian retorted. 'Where is?'

'It's here. We've got it hidden. But first you have to show me the woman at least . . . You're all armed. What's to say you won't take the drugs without keeping your side of the bargain?'

The man made a face. Armed, yes
...
we make conditions, not you.'

'You're wrong. If you kill us, you'll never find the drugs. More than that, you'll never get out of here alive. You can only see a few of us. We have other men in hiding,' he bluffed. 'They're on the mountain and on the road, and they're watching you. They have their orders. If all goes well, they won't do anything to you, they won't harm a hair on your heads, but if anything goes wrong
..."

The Albanian's left eye twitched. Wait here,' he said and turned back to confer with his people.

They talked in Albanian for a few minutes which seemed to last forever, then the man came back followed by two others. In the meantime Rizzo and the others started to gather around Laprua.

'Not good. If your men wait for us, we do swap then you kill us . . . not good.'

'You have to trust us,' Zi Turi said.

The man translated and the other two burst into a scornful laugh. Then one of them gave him a few curt, almost shouted instructions.

'We do swap, then you come with us.'

Ferrara stiffened. He hadn't foreseen this possibility and he didn't like it.

Rizzo clearly didn't like it either. 'Leave him be,' he said. 'He's an old man. I'll come with you.'

Christ!
Ferrara thought.
Has he gone mad?
He knew perfectly well what Rizzo was doing, but he couldn't allow one of his men to sacrifice himself, not even to save Massimo's life. Why wasn't he there instead of Rizzo, as he should have been?

He was about to make the irreparable mistake of coming out into the open when the Albanian's contemptuous reply prevented him.

'You no good. They kill us and also you, who cares? But they not kill him.' He nodded towards Laprua.

Now everything depended on Laprua.

'I'll come with you,' he said.

But Ferrara didn't like this either. He couldn't allow the situation to get out of control, even in the smallest way. He was almost tempted to radio Ascalchi and tell him to come immediately with the teams who were waiting just a few miles down the road, but in all probability that would lead to a bloodbath. For the second time, he just had to resign himself to the situation.

'On one condition,' Rizzo said, freezing the smiles of satisfaction on the Albanians' faces.

'What?'

'We follow him and bring him back when you let him go.'

The man translated. Then the man who was giving instructions exchanged a few words with the others. Finally the one who was translating said, 'You follow us, we kill him.'

Rizzo didn't have time to reply. In a tired but determined voice, Laprua said, 'I guarantee, no one will follow you. Now let's go.' He gave Rizzo a cold look and started walking slowly to the Albanians' cars.

He was made to sit in the back seat of the Alfa, and one of the Albanians sat down next to him.

They lifted the back of the tarpaulin and took out two flat metal boards. The hostages must have been under a false bottom on the bed of the lorry.

Ferrara kept his eyes peeled on the lorry. It was hard to see clearly because of the glare of the headlights, but he had the impression they were bringing a man out first. Yes, it was a man, and Ferrara had to make an effort to hold back a sudden wave of emotion. The man had his hands tied behind his back and a hood over his head. He seemed in a poor physical state, perhaps in pain, at least judging by the way he moved. Unsteady on his legs, he groped for the side of the lorry as if for support.

Then it was the turn of a woman. She, too, had her hands tied behind her back and a hood over her head. She was steadier on her feet than the man, as if she had been treated more gently during her captivity.