Luca, a gray stubble covering all three of his chins, hair dyed a black that would make Berlusconi blush, with great hams for arms proudly on display this fine morning.
Toto was Luca’s connection to the Camorra. Somehow it turned out they were distantly related, cousins of cousins and so on. Toto had done ten years for strangling a man with his own hands.
“Total chaos,” he went on. “Everyone fighting everyone else. One’s a warlord, another’s a chieftain. They were better off with Qaddafi.”
“About Libya,” said Peppe Nassa, a short, lithe man dressed entirely in black, with a clean-shaven head, all brooding glances and pained expressions. “There was a problem with the plastique.”
“Ah.” It was the first Borgia had heard of any problem.
“The factory you mentioned was bombed out last month.”
“Destroyed,” said Toto.
“Burned to the ground,” added Peppe.
“I hadn’t heard,” said Luca.
Peppe nodded. “We didn’t learn about it till we showed up and the place was a pile of ashes.”
The factory in question, Società Libica Prodotti Esplosivi, the Libyan Explosives Company, manufactured the plastic explosive called Semtex under license from the Czech manufacturer. There was plenty of Semtex to be had in Europe, but it was essential that Borgia purchase plastic explosive made in Libya. Chemical tags placed in each batch identified the place of manufacture.
“That complicates things,” he said.
“Of course, we didn’t stop there,” said Peppe. “You place an order, it’s our job to fulfill it. It’s what we do, after all.”
“We always keep our word,” said Toto. “Famiglia.”
“But…” Peppe made a face.
“The price,” said Toto.
“How much?” asked Luca.
“Double.”
Toto placed a hand on his heart. “Best we could do.”
Luca had contracted to purchase one hundred kilograms of Libyan-manufactured Semtex at a price of one thousand euros per kilo. The unexpected difficulties in the supply chain would cost him an additional one hundred thousand euros.
“Out of the question,” he said. “We agreed upon a price. I expect delivery at that price. If you come to me to buy a stallion and that stallion runs away or, God forbid, dies in a stable fire, I must find you another equal animal at the same price. You said it is your job to fulfill, then fulfill…but at the price agreed upon.”
“Libya is a war zone, Signor Borgia,” said Peppe. “These are not ordinary circumstances.”
“A war zone,” said Luca, dismissively. “A few skirmishes, perhaps.”
“A true war zone,” said Peppe, offended. “Artillery, machine gun fire, fighter jets.”
“Fine, if you say so. If circumstances were ordinary, I could have flown down myself, knocked on the front door, and placed my order. It is exactly because these are unordinary circumstances that I contacted you.”
Peppe’s face darkened. He was not a man accustomed to being insulted.
“Signor Borgia, I’m sorry, but that is not true,” said Toto, as diplomatically as he knew. “I saw the factory with my own eyes. A bomb from a plane landed directly on it. Many people died.”
“You were there?”
Toto nodded. “With Peppe.”
Luca looked between the men. Both nodded gravely, testifying to the tragedy. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea. My thanks.”
The men bowed their heads. Apology accepted.
“So where did you find my merchandise?” asked Luca.
“We have friends there, of course. They looked around. A little here, a little there. It was difficult, but we get what you want.”
“And the rest?” Semtex was not the only item he’d asked for.
“The rest…no problem,” said Toto. “Very easy.”
“At the price we quoted,” said Peppe.
Luca bit his lip, stepped toward the water, a man forced into making a decision against his better judgment. He had no choice but to pay. He made a note to tell Bruno Melzi. The police could deal with Peppe Nassa later.
“Any other problems I should know about?” asked Luca.
The Neapolitan gangsters shook their head.
“Well, then, gentlemen. I appreciate the risk you took on my behalf.”
Borgia returned to the van.
“How much more?” asked David.
“One hundred thousand.”
“Half what you expected.”
“Family,” said Borgia, and the men shared a look. He opened a briefcase and counted out an additional one hundred thousand euros, placing the bills in a satchel containing the amount originally agreed upon.
Besides Semtex, he had purchased one hundred Beretta semiautomatic handguns, ten thousand rounds of ammunition, fifty hand grenades, and fifty KA-BAR knives.
It took thirty minutes to load everything into Borgia’s van. As he closed the doors, Peppe came close. One final question. “May I ask what all this is for?”
“Friends in the north,” said Borgia. The north: cradle of right-wing politics, bastion of anti-labor, anti-communist, anti-immigrant supporters. Heirs to Benito Mussolini.