[one of the three Cosa Nostra chiefs]. The custom here is to carry out arrests at night. I sent two men for him at the time of day when the neighbours would be about to see what happened. They chained him up and dragged him away. He lost face. For him things will never be quite the same.’
I called on Boris Giuliano, chief of the Pubblica Sicurezza of Palermo, whose collaboration in bringing the recent case Russo had referred to in an offhand and grudging manner. He was a younger man than Russo, lively in southern style, who turned out to speak fluent and idiomatic English with a London accent and vocabulary, picked up, he cheerfully informed me, while working illegally as a waiter in various Soho restaurants. He was clearly happy to talk to an Englishman. Giuliano was even franker than Russo and it was soon evident that he was no more impressed with the new arrival from Milan than the colonel had been with him. He was particularly horrified at the account of Coppola’s arrest. ‘Russo’s signed his own death warrant,’ he said. ‘They’ll let things ride for a bit. Give the dust time to settle, then take him out. I give him five years.’
‘What would you have done?’
‘I’d have turned up in a plain car, been very polite, and given him a half-hour to get his things together. If there’d have been a woman around, I’d have bowed and apologised for the intrusion, and any kids in sight would have had a pat on the head. This is the way we play it. To Coppola I might have said, “You lead your life, I lead mine. I have to do what I’m told.” This man only has to lift a finger to have you snuffed out.’
‘There was some talk in our papers about smashing the Mafia this time,’ I said.
‘You can’t,’ he replied. ‘At best you can contain it, which is at least something. It’s the way of life down here, and to some extent we’re all in it. Supposing you ran a charity organisation and somebody came to you with an offer of tens of millions of lire to build an orphanage. Would you ask him where the money came from? Do you believe the bishop is going to investigate any suspiciously large contribution to Church funds? They call that buying in. You heard about the project to build a marina? This is extortion money being laundered through the banks. When you have a national bank working with the Mafia, what are we supposed to do?’
There was a moment of confusion in the office. He was called away and came back saying he had to go out, but would like to see me again. I told him I would be staying on a couple more days, and gave him the name of my hotel, and it was left that he’d give me a ring and pop over if he could.
Next morning he turned up at my hotel and we went down to the bar for a coffee. Sicilians who live at home in semi-darkness behind shuttered windows appreciate the maximum of light when they go out to relax. This place, despite the hour, was ablaze with the glitter of chandeliers. It went in for Empire-style gilt furniture, which Sicilians also like. The waiters were uniformed in scarlet and gold braid, like hussars, and the service was fast and good.
Boris Giuliano made it clear that he approved. ‘And what do you think of it?’ he asked.
‘No complaints,’ I said.
‘In Milan they tell you to empty the boot of your car and leave it unlocked. None of that nonsense here. Nobody will touch a thing. For what they give it’s cheap, too. They know how to buy at the right prices. This is the best hotel on the island. Know who owns it?’
‘I can only guess.’
‘By staying here you’re contributing to mob funds. Want to take your trade elsewhere?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘There’s such a thing as carrying your principles too far.’
He laughed. ‘Well, now you see how it is. You’re one of us now.’
He had a couple of hours to spare, he said, and wanted to show me the sights. It came up that I’d been in Palermo before. When? he wanted to know. Five years before, I told him.
I called on Boris Giuliano, chief of the Pubblica Sicurezza of Palermo, whose collaboration in bringing the recent case Russo had referred to in an offhand and grudging manner. He was a younger man than Russo, lively in southern style, who turned out to speak fluent and idiomatic English with a London accent and vocabulary, picked up, he cheerfully informed me, while working illegally as a waiter in various Soho restaurants. He was clearly happy to talk to an Englishman. Giuliano was even franker than Russo and it was soon evident that he was no more impressed with the new arrival from Milan than the colonel had been with him. He was particularly horrified at the account of Coppola’s arrest. ‘Russo’s signed his own death warrant,’ he said. ‘They’ll let things ride for a bit. Give the dust time to settle, then take him out. I give him five years.’
‘What would you have done?’
‘I’d have turned up in a plain car, been very polite, and given him a half-hour to get his things together. If there’d have been a woman around, I’d have bowed and apologised for the intrusion, and any kids in sight would have had a pat on the head. This is the way we play it. To Coppola I might have said, “You lead your life, I lead mine. I have to do what I’m told.” This man only has to lift a finger to have you snuffed out.’
‘There was some talk in our papers about smashing the Mafia this time,’ I said.
‘You can’t,’ he replied. ‘At best you can contain it, which is at least something. It’s the way of life down here, and to some extent we’re all in it. Supposing you ran a charity organisation and somebody came to you with an offer of tens of millions of lire to build an orphanage. Would you ask him where the money came from? Do you believe the bishop is going to investigate any suspiciously large contribution to Church funds? They call that buying in. You heard about the project to build a marina? This is extortion money being laundered through the banks. When you have a national bank working with the Mafia, what are we supposed to do?’
There was a moment of confusion in the office. He was called away and came back saying he had to go out, but would like to see me again. I told him I would be staying on a couple more days, and gave him the name of my hotel, and it was left that he’d give me a ring and pop over if he could.
Next morning he turned up at my hotel and we went down to the bar for a coffee. Sicilians who live at home in semi-darkness behind shuttered windows appreciate the maximum of light when they go out to relax. This place, despite the hour, was ablaze with the glitter of chandeliers. It went in for Empire-style gilt furniture, which Sicilians also like. The waiters were uniformed in scarlet and gold braid, like hussars, and the service was fast and good.
Boris Giuliano made it clear that he approved. ‘And what do you think of it?’ he asked.
‘No complaints,’ I said.
‘In Milan they tell you to empty the boot of your car and leave it unlocked. None of that nonsense here. Nobody will touch a thing. For what they give it’s cheap, too. They know how to buy at the right prices. This is the best hotel on the island. Know who owns it?’
‘I can only guess.’
‘By staying here you’re contributing to mob funds. Want to take your trade elsewhere?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘There’s such a thing as carrying your principles too far.’
He laughed. ‘Well, now you see how it is. You’re one of us now.’
He had a couple of hours to spare, he said, and wanted to show me the sights. It came up that I’d been in Palermo before. When? he wanted to know. Five years before, I told him.
Similar Books
