Free These Dark Things by Jan Weiss

construction business in Germany, for instance, and is getting into the sanitation field.”
    She nodded. “Here too, of course. He holds a very lucrative contract from the city for garbage removal. One source here told us Gambini is also moving drugs into Europe through Poland and Latvia.”
    “Great,” the American said. “Which varieties?”
    “A little cocaine. A lot of heroin. He’s testing the markets in those countries too.”
    “How big is his market here?”
    Donati’s cheeks puffed as he pondered. “About half a million euros a day.” He raised his eyebrows and chin, signaling Natalia to continue.
    “Recently a front company of Gambini’s shipped some cheap wine to Berlin. Over eight thousand cases. Before it arrived, it was decanted into luxury-brand bottles and re-priced.”
    She was uncomfortable saying it in front of Colonel Donati, but she said it anyway: “Gambini’s hold over his territory is growing, and the Camorra’s over the city. The cartel’s profits increase daily. They are endlessly inventive. Recently, our police shut down a mob-run radio station in Palermo after it discovered secret messages being transmitted to imprisoned Mafiosi. ”
    “Secret messages?” The American actually smiled at this, flashing perfect teeth and making Natalia self-conscious about her own.
    “Yes,” she said, “in song dedications.”
    “Why am I not surprised?” said the American. “What can you tell us about this Gambini?”
    “He’s a guappo , a senior member of the Camorra. He specializes in the costly and nonexistent. Pretending to import expensive fresh fish by air for mob fishmongers, exporting various goods that didn’t exist, and charging hundreds of thousands of dollars for medical procedures like organ transplants that never occurred.”
    “ Ja ,” the German official said. “Your clever Mr. Gambini is consolidating power, taking advantage of the ’Ndrangheta and Mafia war in our territory.”
    “I’m not familiar with this ’Ndrangheta,” the American said.
    “Another secret criminal brotherhood,” Natalia said. “It dominates the drug trade at the moment. Takes in about thirty billion euros annually.”
    The German nodded. “I’d be more than happy to see them neutralize each other. But I’m afraid for innocent civilians. Just a few hours ago there was another assassination. This one in a mall near Düsseldorf. A forty-five-year-old woman out shopping was caught in a crossfire and gunned down, along with four men who were the primary target.”
    “Monstrous,” Colonel Donati exclaimed with accompanying gestures. “No one is safe.” He swiveled toward Natalia. “Now we have to worry about Mr. Bagarella’s and Mr. Santa Paola’s Camorra organizations too. You know this latest?”
    “Only that Bagarella’s wife committed suicide last year,” Natalia volunteered.
    “That’s right. And Santa Paola’s wife, Elena, was killed six months ago. So the two widowers spent some time in prison together. And now it appears they’ve exchanged wedding bands and multiplied their power, making life for the rest of us even more interesting than it already is.”
    “Pardon,” the German said. “The killings near Düsseldorf? In the pocket of one male victim we found a singed prayer card with a picture of the archangel Gabriel on the back.”
    Donati gestured for Natalia to explain. “Part of an initiation,” she said. “Recruits for the ’Ndrangheta hold out a hand while a prayer card is lit, and recite, ‘As this holy prayer card burns, so my flesh will burn if I betray the Family.’”
    The visitors thanked her for her time and enlightening talk and retired to morning coffee in the canteen.
    Donati waved Natalia closer. “Two bodies were dumped just last night on Torre del Greco, in front of the tax office. Heroin is on the surge again. I’m thinking, the Teresa Steiner murder—what if the murder victim was actually Gambini’s accomplice moving heroin into, say,