Konrad blinked a few times as if he was trying to compute something. His long nose, pointed chin and sad mouth gave him the appearance of a mistreated horse. Eventually, the cogs of his logic stopped whirring and he delivered his finding. ‘If there is a woman in your life, then you must be happy,’ he told Blume. ‘But you are running away from her.’
The suddenly personal turn in the conversation disconcerted Blume. The least he could do was regain his function as the person asking the questions. ‘Do you have a girl?’
It was unlikely, surely, but women were strange. Sometimes they became overwhelmed with such intense feelings of pity for spectacularly ugly men that they ended up marrying them.
‘Not any more,’ said Konrad. ‘Not for a long time.’
‘That can be good. It gives you time to concentrate on your work,’ said Blume. He did not believe this for a moment. All the extra hours made available by not being in a relationship were filled obsessing on what was so wrong with you that women could not bear to be near you. Then as soon as you found someone, you began to long for the solitude you thought you hated.
Blume steered the conversation back towards pertinent issues. ‘Have you found some connection between the Camorra and the Ndrangheta? Is that what this is about? They both specialize in poisoning the earth, which is your area of expertise, right?’
‘It is one of my areas of expertise,’ said Konrad. ‘I have been engaged in a long investigation into toxic dumping, and that involved the Camorra, of course. The investigation is now over, prosecutions have been made. I am an acknowledged authority by now. There is talk of me writing the preface to Saviano’s next book. As an expert in Italian crime, I obviously know a good deal about the Ndrangheta, but I have no evidence of a direct connection between the organizations.’
‘What about the visit to Megale’s house?’
‘Did they see me leaving or entering?’
Blume racked his brain. He couldn’t remember what he had been told. ‘Both, I imagine.’
‘But you don’t know. I will admit that I have been privately studying the Ndrangheta a little, and maybe talking with an exponent of that organization.’
‘Well, that’s a start,’ said Blume.
‘I am very surprised at what I have found.’
‘And what is that?’
‘It is a very effective and quiet organization and extremely efficient. I thought Italians could never be that organized.’
‘That’s because you’ve been dealing with the Camorra. They are chaotic,’ said Blume. ‘With 100,000 men they can’t control Naples, but with around 30,000 the Ndrangheta controls Europe, Australia and fifteen African states as well as Central and South America, and has a turnover about the same as the GDP of Slovakia, or Slovenia… or Serbia. I can never remember which.’
‘The obvious conclusion is that Italians are organized only in crime,’ said Konrad. ‘I think that is undeniable.’
‘That sort of facile conclusion is why you Germans are so useless as investigators,’ said Blume. ‘The Ndrangheta has taken over East Germany better than the Soviets ever did. They own all the seafront houses in the Baltic, they control half the municipalities in the Ruhr valley and all the drug money in all your cities except for Berlin where they allow the Moroccans to sell hashish, on a franchise basis. They import metals for your industries, take out the waste, and clean the money. They mediate between the Russians and your industries, and they help capitalize your banks. They know how to wait, to accept sacrifice, to tough it out, to hide wealth, to remain mute, help each other, bide their time. They can do that better than any German criminals, and they can do it better than your politicians and businessmen. They own you.’
‘You sound almost proud of what they do.’
‘Italians are better at self-sacrifice, discipline and savings than anyone else in Europe and, above all, they — we — are extremely organized. The problem is that we divide into units that are too small. We organize into families instead of neighbourhoods, neighbourhoods instead of towns, towns instead of provinces, provinces instead of regions, and regions instead of a country. The same goes for our industries. They’re always too small. We have the same problem in the police. Basically, we should have just one force. But we are an organized people. Just look at an Italian travelling. Neat, clean, everything planned, budgeted. The northern Europeans are chaotic, dirty, dishevelled, lost, drunk, loutish… As for your police and their efforts to stop drug smuggling, words fail me. Eat your lunch, what’s the matter with you: are you some sort of fucking anorexic?’
‘Dioxins,’ said Konrad.
‘What?’
‘This food. It is probably all poisoned. We are in Campania. I know about this region. People burn rubbish in the streets and fill the air with dioxins from burning plastics. The Camorra has filled the land with heavy metals and maybe even nuclear materials. You keep telling me the food was produced locally. But I don’t want to eat produce grown from the toxic soils of Campania. These are filthy people, ein Dreckvolk, and I do not want their food.’
‘You ate the bread.’
A gratifying look of panic crossed across Konrad’s face.
The waiter, who had taken back Konrad’s untouched plates one after the other, now came over to find out what was going on.
‘ Non si sente bene,’ Blume explained. ‘ No, figurati, il cibo era ottimo. Poi, e un tedesco, quindi non capisce un cazzo ne della buona cucina, ne delle buone maniere. ’
Konrad had pulled out a notebook and was writing something down. In the middle of all Konrad’s extravagantly curly hair was a great bald patch where the freckles looked like liver spots. From above, Konrad looked like an old man, and this pleased Blume immensely.
Konrad paused in his writing for a moment to look up and smile at Blume, saying, quite mildly, ‘You forget I understand when you speak Italian and insult me to the waiter.’
‘I didn’t forget. I just wanted to make sure the waiter understood. What are you writing?’
‘Some of what you said is interesting. I am making a note. One of the reasons I am good at my job is I am willing to learn.’ Konrad put away his pen and notebook.
‘Konrad, just tell me why you visited that Ndrangheta boss. Personally, I don’t give a damn. In fact, if it leads to your imprisonment or death, that’s fine by me. It’s between you and your superiors. I just need something to take back so it looks like I did some work here. You get that, don’t you?’
‘You are so full of suspicions but do you… do you know anything about me, Commissioner?’
‘I am rapidly forming some ideas.’
‘Years ago I was on my way to becoming a professor or an archaeologist,’ said Konrad, ‘but I switched universities and became a federal policeman instead.’ He downed a glass of wine, then cleared his throat. ‘My Latin and Greek are excellent,’ he continued. ‘My Latin professor once asked me to explain my method for learning vocabulary so fast, so that he might teach it to his other students.’ He paused and peered at Blume, then shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t think you have the right sort of mind for my technique. You lack patience and humility, as well as a classical background, of course.’
‘You’re making me feel really small.’
‘But I think even you may know that Ndrangheta is a Greek word, it comes from andrangathos, which means “courageous man”.’
‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’ said Blume. ‘You’re convinced you are not talking bullshit?’
‘Of course I am sure. Calabria was part of Magna Graecia and ancient Greek words are still spoken there.’
‘So you’re telling me Ndrangheta is an ancient name?’ asked Blume.
‘Yes. I am assuming you have not studied these things. Obviously, you have no knowledge of ancient Greek.’
‘Italian kids still do Greek and Latin, at least if they go to a Liceo Classico, which I did. There’s nothing ancient Greek about those Calabrian thugs. Don’t believe anything they say. Even their name is a lie. The organization you have placed back in the mists of time basically came into being in 1975. So, once again, you have understood nothing.’
‘I hate to correct you…’
