Conor Fitzgerald - The Namesake

He paused and regarded Blume with an appraising look, as if seeing him for the first time. Blume nodded gravely, which seemed to satisfy him, and he continued. ‘Nine months ago, Konrad Hoffmann made an application for vacation leave, which is his right. In fact, he has not even claimed for as long as he might, and it is absolutely normal for him to ask for time off in the summer, just as it is also perfectly normal for him to take a camper van and drive south into Italy along with thousands of other Germans. So none of this was noticed.’

‘No one noticed a German with a camper van driving to Italy in August?’ said Blume. ‘I understand why this might not make the news.’

The BKA chief found this extremely funny and filled up the room with throaty laughter.

‘That was very humorous. So many Germans with camper vans and motor homes…’ He lowered his voice, ‘Not as bad as the Dutch, though. You can’t move on Italian roads for the Dutch and their yellow number plates and little camper vans! Yeah, so, Konrad Hoffmann. He left on Thursday, spent Friday night in Tyrol, Saturday in Mantua, and last night in the “Tiber Village”. He is on his way from there to us now. You understand this?’

‘I’m following what you are saying,’ said Blume, ‘if that’s what you mean.’

‘You are following me. That is good. I cannot ask for more. Now, as you know the boss of the Dusseldorf colony of the Ndrangheta, Domenico Megale… wait, wait… I have to say this right.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The Italians call him… Megale u Vecchiu. That means “Old Megale”. Did I pronounce it right?’

‘Sounds fine to me,’ said Blume.

‘Did I pronounce it right?’ insisted Weissmann, a note of aggression creeping into his voice.

‘It’s Calabrian. In Italian it would be il vecchio, in Rome we’d say er vecchio.’

The mistrustful glint returned to Weissmann’s eyes. Massimiliani darted an anxious glance at Blume, as if to appeal for his greater understanding, but did not intervene.

‘We will call him by his proper name, Domenico Megale,’ decided Weissmann.

‘Great idea,’ said Blume.

‘So, this Domenico Megale was released from prison after a series of trials and sentences. He is too old to face trial again, but we think he will probably not be boss for long. Maybe already he is not.’

‘I would not presume that,’ said Blume. ‘Italy is a country for old men. Death rather than age, sickness or incarceration stops a boss from being boss, or a prime minister from being prime minister.’

‘Excellent point! Italy is controlled by evil old men: I must remember your observation. We have been watching Megale’s house since his release. It is located between Duisburg and Dusseldorf, in a village called Grossenbaum. We have been noting down the number plates of vehicles, taking photographs of visitors. And one of those visitors was Konrad Hoffmann, who is now in Italy on business we know nothing about. That is the problem.’

‘He is freelancing?’

‘We don’t know. This is what is such an embarrassment. We are very surprised at this. We wanted to see who would turn up at Megale’s house to welcome him back, but we did not expect one of our own agents to go there. He arrived wearing a false moustache and unnecessary glasses. It was the worst effort at disguise anyone on the surveillance team had ever seen, and this is one of the reasons they took a particularly close look at him and circulated the image immediately. I would like to put the photo of Hoffmann in disguise on the BKA intranet so everyone can be amused, except it is a serious matter,’ said Weissmann, then suddenly guffawed. ‘Hoffmann is a person who likes to work on his own as much as possible, and he has done well like this. The logical thing to think was that he was investigating some Eco-Mafia connection between the Ndrangheta and the Camorra. So we sent round an agent last week to his office to have a chat, but discovered he was on leave. We started looking for him, casually, with no big hurry, then it was discovered he had crossed into Italy.’

‘Well, have you asked him?’

‘We contacted him by phone yesterday and asked him if he was enjoying his holiday and where he was. He told us the truth. Perhaps he knew if we were calling we already knew, and were tracking his phone. He’s a BKA agent, after all, and a very good one, but only behind the desk. In the field he is a disaster, as we can see from his attempt at disguise and his failure to notice a stakeout by his own colleagues. I do not think he has many friends in his department. But his record is impressive, as are his qualifications. Yeah, so…’ Weissmann fingered his earring.

‘Did you ask him where he was going?’ prompted Blume.

‘Ah sure, that is what I had forgotten! We asked him where he was going next, and he said he was on holiday and could not be sure. So we, very politely because he is a colleague who has contributed much, insisted that he must tell us. He said then he was going to Campania, which, of course, is an area he knows something about. But,’ Weissmann paused for dramatic effect, ‘what is the connection with Domenico Megale and Calabria? We are still looking through his files, but we see no evidence of a connection between the Camorra and the Ndrangheta in this area.’

‘Your files can’t be much good. The Camorra and Ndrangheta cooperate all the time.’

‘If there is a connection and it involves German firms, which is very plausible, our man has not been sharing information with his superiors or colleagues. It would be useful to know what he is up to. This is where you come in, Commissioner.’

Massimiliani clapped his hands in a businesslike fashion to indicate that they had said enough. He nodded at Weissmann, said ‘thank you’ in English as if they were at a conference, then switched straight into Italian.

‘Winfried likes me to speak Italian now and then so he can practise,’ he said to Blume. He raised his voice, ‘ Tutt’a posto se faccio cosi, Winfried?’

The BKA commander gave the sort of cheery wave like Blume and Massimiliani were two friends visible from a distance but out of earshot.

‘I don’t think he does understand much,’ said Blume, watching the German’s face for signs of comprehension.

‘You’d be surprised, he’s a wily old bastard. He phoned Hoffmann himself this morning, and told him that the Italians needed a favour, and that he and Hoffmann just happened to be in the right place at the right time to do it. He told Hoffmann to come here, saying we Italians, disorganized as always, suddenly need to send an undercover agent down to Campania. Konrad was asked to provide the cover, and of course he could not say no, holiday or no holiday. I don’t imagine he really believes we need him, a German, to infiltrate an Italian into Italy, but Weissmann put him on the spot.’

‘One of those tricky lies that you can’t challenge without revealing that you, too, are lying,’ said Blume.

‘Right. So everyone is pretending that we need to attach an undercover police officer to him for purposes that we would prefer not to talk about. The pretend undercover agent is you, of course.’

‘What’s my cover story?’ asked Blume.

‘You are going to tell him you are investigating toxic dumping, but obviously you can’t say much. That’s why the material I gave you on Friday night should be enough for you to bluff with. You know a bit about the subject now. You tell him that your mission is secret, and that your bosses thought it would be good to have you join him and pretend to be one of two German tourists travelling into Campania, the Amalfi coast.’

‘He won’t believe that if he’s smart.’

‘He wore a false moustache and missed a stakeout by his own colleague so he could visit a Mafia boss just out of jail. It is possible he is not smart at all.’