Chapter Eighteen #2
They exchanged family news, then Valerio followed Beppe into the kitchen, where he prepared fresh coffee.
—
They had a simple, well-kept home—a blend of ornate antiques and IKEA minimalism, everything neatly arranged on hooks, on shelves, and in plastic bins.
“No cookies, I’m afraid,” Beppe said, handing him a cup. To Valerio’s relief, he placed a bowl of almonds on the table. Valerio grabbed a handful.
“You may as well spit the toad,” said Beppe. “Glad as I am to see you, I know this isn’t a social call.”
This was one reason Valerio had liked Beppe. He could gossip with the best of them, but when you needed something, he got exactly to the point.
“I didn’t want to put it in a message,” Valerio admitted. “I’m in a nice mess, and I don’t want to draw you into it. If you call the station, they’ll tell you not to talk to me.”
“I see,” said Beppe. “Well, it’s decent of you to warn me, but I’m not worried.
I’m finished with the bullshit—political games, pandering.
And I’m on my pension now, so I don’t have to pretend to like anyone anymore.
But I’ve always liked you, Valerio. Truly.
So, ask your questions and if they don’t appreciate it, they can go to hell. ”
The resentment in the words contrasted so sharply with his pleasant tone, Valerio laughed. He had the urge to hug Beppe.
“Ah, I’ve missed you!” he exclaimed. “Alright then. Two thousand eight. You took a complaint from a woman named Agnese Cuomo about Paride Silvestri. You investigated, but the magistrate sealed the records. Do you remember?”
The smile faded from Beppe’s face.
“Oh, I remember,” he said. “But it’s my turn to warn you. If you’re looking into Paride Silvestri, you won’t get far. He’s protected at every level. Police…judiciary…government…you name it!”
“Is that why the records were sealed?”
“You guessed it. Officially, it was because a minor was involved.”
“So, what happened?” Valerio asked. “Who was Agnese Cuomo?”
“Agnese ran a souvenir shop in Sorrento. Her daughter, Felicia, was a beautiful little girl. Remarkable. Schoolboys followed her around, proclaiming their love. She was thirteen when one of Silvestri’s women spotted her.”
“Silvestri’s women?”
Beppe nodded grimly. “Yeah. We never identified her. But I think that’s how Silvestri operated. The woman was a lure…claiming to be a talent scout. She told Felicia she had the looks to be a model and invited her to a photo shoot at Paride’s home.”
Valerio’s stomach twisted. He didn’t like where this story was going.
“The photo shoot was innocent enough,” Beppe continued.
“Nothing ugly there. But afterwards, the woman started asking questions. What did Felicia want for her future? Did she want to help her family? She told her that Silvestri could help her get her training and certification as a professional masseuse. Then came the next step: She’d need to demonstrate her skills on him. ”
Beppe stopped and looked down at his hands.
“That was the beginning,” he said. “He abused her for several months before she finally told her mother.”
Valerio had seen his share of violent crime scenes without flinching, but anything involving children always sickened him.
“I’m not a violent man,” Beppe continued, rapping his knuckles on the table. “But if you ever left me alone in a room with Silvestri or any other pedo like him, I can’t guarantee they’d walk out again.”
They sat in silence for several seconds, digesting this.
“You investigated?” Valerio asked.
Beppe exhaled heavily. He looked suddenly older.
“It should have been straightforward,” he said.
“Felicia gave clear, consistent details. She was a remarkable kid—so brave. And her mother, too. They had nothing—barely making it to the end of the month—but they were willing to take on this powerful billionaire. I knew there had to be other victims; Silvestri’s grooming was too well rehearsed.
It should have been easy to build a case.
But it was the hardest case I’ve ever worked.
No cooperation. No support from my chain of command.
They wanted me to shut it down before I could even get started.
Even my own partner seemed to be working against me.
And the magistrate wasn’t any better. The entire system was stacked with people who wanted this to just go away. ”
“What did you do?”
“I investigated anyway,” Beppe said. “Silvestri was already a big influence in two thousand eight. He threw these gigantic parties, with businessmen, politicians, celebrities. I knew I needed ironclad proof. But the more I investigated, the more resistance I got.”
“It’s hard without the support of your team,” Valerio observed.
Beppe nodded. “I kept going. Kept pushing. Then, suddenly, I was accused of soliciting bribes. The charges were bullshit, but I was suspended while internal affairs investigated. Eventually they cleared me. But by then, little Felicia had taken her own life.”
Beppe stopped, and pressed his lips together, then shook his head, and began scratching something off the table with his thumbnail.
“After that, there was no case against Silvestri,” he continued. “Agnese and her mother closed the shop and moved north.”
Valerio took a slow breath, holding down the sick feeling in his gut.
“Did you ever see any connections between Paride Silvestri and Luca Errichiello?”
Beppe seemed to think.
“There are similarities,” he admitted. “Although Silvestri is considered a legitimate businessman—and everyone knows that Errichiello isn’t. Both men seem to be involved in human trafficking. And both are untouchable. I can’t remember a single case that’s ever stuck on either of them. Can you?”
Valerio shook his head. “They’re well protected.”
“Not just that,” said Beppe. “Impenetrable. Think about the biggest Camorra capos we’ve seen. There’s always a chink somewhere: a prosecutor willing to take the risk, someone willing to testify. But with these two? Nothing. Silence.”
Valerio agreed. “It’s been almost twenty years since Agnese came forward and, as far as I know, Silvestri hasn’t been investigated since. If he’s still doing this, we’ll find a lot more victims.”
Beppe cautioned him.
“If you choose to investigate, keep it to yourself,” he said. “Be careful who you trust. You could get burned.”
—
It took Valerio the rest of the afternoon to shake off the nausea and disgust from what Beppe had told him.
The shadows were lengthening by the time he met Maurizio at the storefront kebab shop.
Maurizio had invited him to his house but Valerio was too tired to deal with Maurizio’s wife.
She always wanted to know what was happening and participate in the conversations.
He wasn’t in the mood to argue with her.
As they ate greasy meat wraps at the plastic outdoor tables, Valerio recounted his visit to Silvestri’s villa and his conversation with Beppe.
Maurizio gave a low whistle.
“You don’t get into the normal sort of trouble, do you?” he said. “It’s not enough to be in deep with Errichiello—you have to go looking for problems with Silvestri, too? If Beppe couldn’t make a case stick against him, what makes you think you can?”
“Beppe didn’t have the connection between Errichiello and Silvestri,” Valerio said.
“I didn’t expect to find a connection either.
There was just that one photo in Ines’s house.
I went to Silvestri because I didn’t have a better plan.
But now, I’m sure they’re working together.
Why else would Errichiello’s head of security be at Silvestri’s villa? ”
He passed Maurizio the bag containing the surveillance gear.
“Would you run these plates for me?” he asked.
“I’d do it, but I don’t want to get into a fight with Bonetti about this administrative leave.
If Beppe’s right, I can’t afford to attract attention.
Also, can you run a facial recognition search on our white-haired friend?
First name’s Ivan. It would be good to get a full name and profile. ”
Maurizio took the bag. He looked worn out.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” he said.
“I don’t like you pinning your hopes on a decades-old complaint against a billionaire.
Even if there’s a connection between Silvestri and Errichiello, it would take months—maybe years—to investigate.
And you need a whole team working it. You’re not some lone wolf. ”
“I don’t have that kind of time,” said Valerio. “And I don’t need a full case against them…just enough to make him back down.”
Maurizio shook his head. “Valerio—”
“Think about Gaetano,” Valerio cut in. “He knew something important. That’s why Errichiello killed him.
I need to find out what it was. Silvestri’s my only lead.
Gaetano’s girlfriend said that Gaetano used to drive women to exclusive parties in Sorrento.
If I can confirm those parties were at Silvestri’s villa, I know where to look next. ”
“Gaetano’s dead for what he knew,” Maurizio argued. “I don’t see this helping you. And I don’t want you to get killed.”
Valerio opened his hands, and looked at his palms.
“I’m between the hammer and the anvil,” he said. “If I wait…if I do nothing, Errichiello will force me. I need to find some way to push back before he gets his hooks in all the way. I have to try.”
—
Valerio felt unprepared for his meeting with Maria.
He’d intended to look the part of a sugar daddy, had showered and given himself a careful shave, but his clothing options were abysmal.
His daily work required him to be inconspicuous—which usually meant sneakers, T-shirts, and hoodies.
Besides, Gemma and Davide had taken his spare cash, and he hadn’t bought new clothes for years.
He had a decent pair of trousers that were only slightly too tight, and he could put some polish on his shoes, but he needed a shirt.
Everything he owned was ugly—out of fashion, too small, or stained.