Cry Wolf Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Previous Titles by Michael Gregorio

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Main Characters

  Earthquake

  ’ndrangheta

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Previous Titles by Michael Gregorio

  Fiction

  The Hanno Stiffeniis series

  CRITIQUE OF CRIMINAL REASON

  DAYS OF ATONEMENT

  A VISIBLE DARKNESS

  UNHOLY AWAKENING

  The Sebastiano Cangio series

  CRY WOLF *

  Other Titles

  YOUR MONEY OR YOUR LIFE

  Non-fiction

  INSIDE ITALY

  FIFTY SHADES DEEPER INSIDE ITALY

  * available from Severn House

  CRY WOLF

  Michael Gregorio

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This first world edition published 2014

  in Great Britain and 2015 in the USA by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA

  Trade paperback edition first published 2015 in Great

  Britain and the USA by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  eBook edition first published in 2015 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2014 by Michael Gregorio

  The right of Michael Gregorio to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Gregorio, Michael author.

  Cry wolf.

  1. Park rangers–Fiction. 2. Earthquakes–Italy–

  Umbria–Fiction. 3. Mafia–Fiction. 4. Wolves–Fiction.

  5. Suspense fiction.

  I. Title

  823.9’2-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8467-1 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-570-4 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-617-5 (e-book)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,

  Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  This book is dedicated to the memory of Fabrizio Reali Roscini & Damiano Corrias

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Cry Wolf was inspired by a series of shocking events which changed our lives. We wish to thank inmates of the maximum-security prison of Maiano, Spoleto, who helped us to understand how the Mafia works, while we taught them creative writing. If not for them, we might still have been writing historical crime fiction.

  MAIN CHARACTERS

  POLICE OFFICERS (in order of rank)

  General Arturo Corsini, Special Ops Commander, carabiniere, a.k.a. the Legend

  Alfredo Dandini, Captain, carabiniere

  The Supervisior, Special Ops Co-ordinator, carabiniere

  The Watcher, Special Ops undercover agent, carabiniere

  Antonio Sustrico, Brigadier, commander of the carabinieri in Spoleto

  Eugenio Falsetti, Special Constable, carabiniere

  NATIONAL PARK POLICE

  Marzio Diamante, Senior Ranger with powers of arrest

  Sebastiano Cangio, Park Ranger with powers of arrest

  Loredana Salvini, Cangio’s girlfriend

  CRIMINALS

  Don Michele Cucciarilli, ’Ndrangheta clan boss

  Zio/Zì Luigi Corbucci, ’Ndrangheta lieutenant

  Raniero Baretta, ’Ndrangheta soldier

  Ettore, ’Ndrangheta picciotto, a new member of the clan

  Corrado Formisano, ’Ndrangheta former hitman

  Andrea Bonanni, ’Ndrangheta drug dealer

  POLITICIANS

  Donatella Pignatta, the Queen, elected President of Umbria

  Paolo Gualducci, the Queen’s secretary

  Maurizio Truini, Mayor

  Cesira Truini, Mayor’s wife

  MAGISTRATE

  Calisto Catapanni

  BANKERS

  Cosimo Landini, director of the bank

  Ruggero Franzetti, manager of the bank

  CIVILIANS

  Lorenzo Micheli, student, anarchist

  Federico Donati, student, friend of Lorenzo

  Riccardo Bucci, student, friend of Lorenzo

  Davide Castrianni, student, friend of Lorenzo

  Wolves howl for three reasons:

  •As a rallying cry for the rest of the pack

  •As a signal to let the pack know of a wolf’s location

  •As a warning to other wolves to stay out of the pack’s territory

  They also howl when they are in pain.

  EARTHQUAKE

  The Apennine Mountains in central Italy are often plagued by a ‘swarm’.

  That’s how experts described the series of earthquakes that hit Umbria that summer. The first one weighed in at 4.5 on the Richter scale. Almost seventy per cent of the buildings in the region were damaged, but not too seriously. There was another quake three days later, but that one was only 4.1. On 22 September, there was yet another one, even smaller this time. Only 2.4, a man from the Ministry of Civil Defence announced. The danger zone begins at 5.0 on the Richter scale.

  People had been sleeping in their cars for weeks, and they were exhausted. The ‘swarm’ appeared to be diminishing. The danger was over. That seemed to be the message.

  Most pe
ople slept in their own beds that night. At 03.02, another earthquake struck. It measured at 6.1. The real problem wasn’t just how big it was, but how long it lasted.

  It went on rumbling only four miles beneath the earth’s crust for almost a minute.

  Everything that wasn’t new fell down.

  The man from the Ministry appeared on the TV news next morning, saying that Umbria had been declared a ‘disaster zone’.

  A telephone conversation was recorded by police at 04.27 that night.

  A: ‘Did you hear the news?’

  B: ‘I just popped a bottle of Moët. We’ll be partying till doomsday.’

  A: ‘Churches, houses, bridges. We’ll have to rebuild the whole fucking lot …’

  B: ‘Billions and billions! And that’s just the Italian government. There’ll be more once the Europeans get their fingers out …’

  A: ‘We’ll be swimming in champagne!’

  No criminal intent could be inferred from the telephone call between two businessmen, who happened to be laughing shortly after a massive earthquake in which thirty-six people lost their lives. No legal action was ever taken against them.

  ip/00/395 – Brussels, 11 April, 2011.

  European Commission approves emergency aid for earthquake-hit region in Italy.

  Today the Commission approved an increase of €75 million in the budget for the parts of Italy most affected by the earthquake in autumn 2009.

  In February 2010 the Commission, acting on the basis of Article 87(2)(b) of the EC Treaty, approved outright grants for firms in the worst-hit areas in Marche and Umbria which had made investments in the immediate aftermath of the disaster. It is now apparent that the total assistance of €46 million falls far short of what is required to meet compensation requests. The Commission has therefore decided to match the €75 million provided for in the Italian Budget Act for 2010/2011. The aid has been deemed eligible for the exemption provided for in Article 87(2)(b) of the EC Treaty.

  ’NDRANGHETA

  Think of Italy as a long riding boot, and Sicily as a ball. The toe seems to be kicking the ball into the Mediterranean Sea. It is a visual symbol of what has happened in recent years.

  Cosa Nostra, the original Mafia, gained power and influence after aiding the Allied invasion of Sicily in July, 1943. But there were other mafias in Italy, and some of them have expanded rapidly in recent years, smuggling tax-free cigarettes at first, then running drugs and guns, controlling rackets and extortion, prostitution and illicit gambling.

  The Camorra controls the bay of Naples. The Sacra Corona Unita rules in Puglia, while smaller organizations, such as the Mafia del Brenta, reign over the rich Venice hinterland. But the most powerful mafia is the ’Ndrangheta from Calabria in the southern ‘toe’ of Italy.

  It was the ’Ndrangheta that kicked Cosa Nostra into touch.

  The ’Ndrangheta clans were violent, ruthless and greedy. They infiltrated the rich, industrial north of Italy, controlling the drug trade in Lombardy and Piedmont. Today, they supply the whole of Italy and the rest of Europe. The drugs in your home town come from South America, Asia, Africa. They are imported and distributed by the Calabrian ’Ndrangheta.

  The ’Ndrangheta earns thirty-three billion euros every year tax-free, one-fifth of the total tax revenue that Italy generates. The word ’Ndrangheta is a corruption of the Greek andranghatia – andros (man) and agathos (brave) – and it prescribes a criminal code of fierceness coupled with absolute obedience. The ’Ndrangheta is formed of ’Ndrine – criminal clans or ‘families’. At least 160 ’Ndrine are known to the Italian police, generally by the surname of the capo, or boss of the clan. They are spread all over Italy. Each new recruit starts out as a picciotto, a ‘kid’, and works his way up the ladder by showing his courage, following the orders of his section boss who is known within the clan as zio or zì (uncle). The head of a clan is the don. He may be the oldest and wisest man in the family, or he may be the youngest, the wildest, the most ambitious, the one who has wiped out all of his rivals.

  All the ’Ndrangheta needs is the opportunity to move in.

  On 23 September, 2009, the earthquake in Umbria provided an opportunity.

  Before that date, rural Umbria had been of no interest to the ’Ndrangheta. But as EC money began to flow into the area and the reconstruction started, everything changed.

  Some people came to help the victims.

  The ’Ndrangheta came to help themselves.

  ONE

  December, 2011 – London

  Sebastiano Cangio was heading east on the Central Line.

  Most of the passengers jumped off at Tottenham Court Road, which was where the lovebirds got on. The guy had an Afro hairdo which added six inches to the five-foot-two-inch frame cruel Mother Nature had dealt him. The woman was thinner, taller in flat-heeled pumps, her black hair braided with multicoloured strings. They weren’t as young as they wanted to look, but the kiss they exchanged the instant they sat down was the biggest tongue-in-throat job that Sebastiano Cangio had ever seen.

  He hated travelling on the Tube. Anything could happen down here, and no one took a bit of notice.

  The woman’s hand was inside her lover’s jeans, and a couple of kids sat fiddling with their mobile phones. A woman on the opposite bench was working on her laptop, totally absorbed. An Asian in a blue uniform and matching turban was flicking through the pages of a free newspaper. There was something about Italy on the front page, but it was too far away for Cangio to read it. Almost everyone had ear pods shutting out the world.

  All Cangio had was a plastic folder. He slipped a sheet of paper out of the folder and pretended to read it. He was heading out to the Docklands for an appointment with an American couple who had walked into the property agency the day before. They were interested in buying a top-floor flat with what the agency described as ‘stunning views’ of the slate-grey waters of the stinking River Thames, and a ‘breathtaking’ panorama of the low-rise south London skyline on the far bank.

  He glanced up without thinking.

  The man’s purple tongue came sliding out of the woman’s mouth.

  ‘You fancy doin’ it there, then?’ the woman said.

  The man was gazing at something above Cangio’s head.

  ‘Why not?’ he said. ‘I’d do it anyplace with you.’

  The train began to slow down. Then it pulled in at Bank and the pair got off.

  Cangio crossed the aisle and sat down where the lovebirds had been sitting. The seat was still warm. There was an advert next to the Central Line route map. He’d seen a lot of these ads on Tube trains in the last few weeks – pictures of Venice, Florence, Rome. The Italian tourist board was trying to woo the British holidaymaker away from Spain. This picture showed a fabulous view of a long, curving sandy beach and a pretty hill-top town that Sebastiano Cangio recognized.

  Soverato.

  Just seven months before he’d been stretched out on the sand at Soverato beach, drying off after a swim, watching the girls stroll by at the water’s edge, when a family of four had arrived. They’d hired two deckchairs and a beach umbrella. The kids had dug a sandcastle while the mother prepared lunch, and the father had thrown a handkerchief over his face and taken a nap. They hadn’t been there long when a Ducati motorbike pulled up on the promenade. The man riding pillion had jumped off, strode down the beach still wearing his crash helmet, pulled a pistol from his belt and shot the sleeping man in the face. Not once, but five or six times.

  And still, the man wasn’t dead.

  He had dragged the blood-soaked handkerchief from his face, staggered to his feet and tried to run away, barrelling down to the sea and into the water, blood pouring from the wounds in his face and throat. The killer had splashed after him into the shallow water. People had screamed, running away in panic, but the killer had ignored them. He’d hooked the pistol in his belt, grabbed the man by the hair then smashed his face repeatedly against a rock until the water turned red and the man lay float
ing in his own blood.

  Everyone had looked the other way as the killer sprinted back up the beach.

  Everyone, except Sebastiano Cangio.

  He’d been paralysed, shocked.

  The crash helmet had turned his way for an instant, and he’d seen a lizard tattoo on the killer’s neck. The gun had come up and aimed. Click … If there’d been a bullet left in the pistol, Cangio would have caught it. The killer had shaken his head then run up the beach to the waiting motorcycle.

  You couldn’t stay in Soverato after something like that.

  The TV news that night had announced that the victim had been a local ’Ndrangheta boss. There was a faida going on, they’d said – a new generation was taking over, stepping into the driving seat.

  His mother had bought him a plane ticket for London that night: one-way from Lamezia Terme. He had tried to say no. He was supposed to be defending his PhD thesis at the University of Catanzaro three weeks later. He’d been working hard all spring and summer to put together the photographic portfolio, heading up into the Sila mountains two or three times a week, checking out the various dens. The wolves were roaming wild for the summer and the cubs were growing, starting to hunt, so it was easy to document the habitats that they had abandoned.