Chapter 26 #5
“What are you going to do with that?” He looks between Hisham and me.
It’s Hisham who responds. “I can take care of it.”
Friedrich looks like he has more to say, but he’s clearly weighing his words. “I admitted to my connections to the Camorra earlier because I wanted to help. It’s not something I can hide from Heidi much longer, considering the current circumstances. But there’s more to my role than I shared.”
“Your role?” Joaquin’s natural suspiciousness fills his words.
“I’m more than just friends with a senior member’s son. I’m mostly out, but I was an active member while I was a teenager and in college. I insisted I be released from my obligations when I met Heidi and knew I wanted to be serious with her.”
I narrow my eyes at Friedrich. “It’s not like you can just turn your back and walk away. There was a price to that.”
“I started as a mule, then worked my way up because I’m an excellent negotiator.
My best friend’s cousin fucked around and messed up a ton of shit for a major deal I’d worked months on with members of an Albanian mafia.
My best friend’s father leads our branch of the Camorra.
That syndicate is more like an organization of clans who are often rivals in Campania, especially around Naples. ”
I suppose he’s explaining the politics for our sake and Hisham’s. None of us are unaware of how Italian syndicates work.
“It may have been his nephew, but he had no problem commanding me to kill the guy. I made it a show. I proved that while I may want to leave, I’m still loyal and am still a Mafioso even if I don’t work as one day-to-day. It was a violent death, but it was the price for me to get out.”
His gaze sweeps the group before he continues speaking.
“I’ll make some more calls. I fear this isn’t about Gunter, Anne, or any of you so much as it might be about me. It could be my connections, and they’ve targeted Anne and Gunter because they know they’ll be my future in-laws.”
He pulls his phone from his pajama pocket and unlocks it.
We watch as he taps the screen a couple of times, then puts his phone to his ear.
It shocks me when he speaks Italian instead of German.
He sounds like a native. I don’t know if his branch of the Camorra has passed Italian down generation to generation or if someone in his family is a recent immigrant to Germany from Italy, but he’s fluent enough that I’d never guess German was his first language.
His English is flavored with a German accent, but his Italian isn’t.
The rest of us stand around and listen to the one-sided conversation.
In my family, it’s only Pablo who speaks fluent Italian, so I don’t understand Friedrich.
He sounds annoyed for part of it, then is back to normal.
The conversation draws on, but he’s listening to most of it.
His expression grows grimmer by the minute until he hangs up.
He drops his phone into his pocket as he sighs.
“You won’t like this any more than I do.” He’s shaking his head as he speaks.
“What did you find out?” Joaquin’s mind is probably already jumping to what he might have to dig into further.
“It’s a turf war. It’s the Sicilian Cosa Nostra and the Venetian Mala del Brenta against my family’s branch of the Camorra and the ’Ndrangheta. If you don’t know, they’re from Calabria. Their name means bravery—manly virtue.”
He scoffs at that last part. None of us interrupt him as he explains more about the Italian syndicates. But as he watches the rest of us, he realizes we don’t need the history lesson.
“It’s the enemy’s side, not mine. This has been quietly brewing for years, but it’s come to a head.
I guess they decided to go after my future sister-in-law to draw me back in.
When things didn’t progress the way they wanted, they went after Gunter too.
I don’t know yet why your investments were the tipping point, but I suspect it has something to do with a balance of power.
Not so much you gaining more, but someone losing what they have or not gaining what they want. ”
“And why would they want you involved?” There’s a sharper edge to my voice than I intended.
“Because I’m an attorney. They want access to some of my clients. They thought targeting Anne would force me to help them.”
“How long have you suspected this?”
“Since I arrived at the hotel.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
His gaze hardens into that of a man who’s killed before. It’s not defensive; it’s unyielding.
“Because finding Gunter alive was more important than finding out why. Because I have a family to protect and loyalty to honor. But now I have no choice but to trust you not only with the Schlossbergs’ safety but also this information about my family.”
I consider what he says before I respond. “This must be a proxy war. My guess is Salvatore Mancinelli is up to his elbows in this. He’s probably funding the Cosa Nostra and Mala del Brenta since he’s related to both.”
The Carosis run the Mala del Brenta in Venice.
Salvatore’s nephew, Carmine, married Salvatore’s wife’s niece, Serafina.
His wife, Sylvia, was a Toretta before she married into the Mancinellis.
They’re one of the main Cosa Nostra families in Sicily.
Her sister’s married to the Mala del Brenta’s don. It’s both sides of Salvatore’s family.
“It appears my clients have Italian investors—the Torettas and Carosis. They expect a return on their investment. My clients are the ones laundering the money and using Anne as a front. If things fall apart, then she’s one of the people left to take the blame.
The money’s winding up in Venice and Palermo.
I’m to go against my family and help the Cosa Nostra and Mala del Brenta if I want them to leave Anne alone. ”
I shake my head since my earlier assumption appears wrong. “Maybe the Mancinellis hands are clean in all this after all. But Salvatore’s going to be more pissed than he has been since Luca, Carmine, and Gabriele sucked Anastasia into their little scheme.”
Salvatore’s nephews Luca and Carmine, along with Carmine’s best friend Gabriele, fucked up royally when they tried to do a deal with the Cosa Nostra and bratva in Chicago.
Niko Kutsenko’s now wife was collateral damage.
The New York Mafia’s heir and their worst sinner both wound up with Salvatore beating the snot out of them.
Gabriele was no angel either. All three were banished for several months to a vineyard in Sicily for hard labor.
“Friedrich, I need to know your clients’ names.”
“Fine, Joaquin.”
My brother bolts up the stairs, taking them two at a time after Friedrich agrees to his request. It’s only a moment later before he’s running back down them with his laptop tucked under his arm.
We all pull out seats at the dining room table.
I push the box away from us since none of us wants to look at it, even if the lid is closed.
Joaquin asks Friedrich questions about who’s involved from his family and any names he might know from the other three Italian syndicates.
Then he works silently. There’s nothing for us to discuss until we know more.
So, the only sound amongst us is Joaquin’s fingers on his keyboard.
When he looks up, he meets my gaze. Then, Alejandro’s.
Clearly, neither of us will like what he discovered.
“This is some fucked-up shit. It’s not Salvatore at all. It’s the O’Rourkes helping out the Torettas and Carosis, and the Kutsenkos are helping your family and the ’Ndrangheta, Friedrich.”
“The who?”
He genuinely looks perplexed, so I explain.
“The Kutsenkos run the Russian bratva in New York. Back in the mid-nineties, the Camorra laundered money for the New York bratva in exchange for gun running. Looks like they resuscitated that relationship. Apparently, the Kutsenkos want to not only piss off the O’Rourkes but Salvatore as well.”
I consider what this means to the underworld’s politics in New York and their wider international implications. It’s Hisham who drums his fingers on the table as he speaks.
“Why? What’re the Irish and Russians really going to gain by getting involved in an Italian turf war?”
Joaquin crosses his arms as he leans back.
“They’re fighting over Europe. One wants to expand even more into Eastern Europe, and the other wants to compensate by increasing their influence in Western Europe.
Not only that, I think it truly is to piss off Salvatore, but that’s not our problem.
Too bad, so sad for him. We need to deal with the Russians and the Irish first.”
Alejandro leans forward, his arms resting on the table. “What about Friedrich’s clients who passed money through Anne’s accounts. We still need to deal with them on Anne’s behalf.”
I clasp my hands as I lean forward in an almost identical position to Alejandro.
“We need to go back to the U.S. to figure this out.”