Blood Rain - 7 by Michael Dibdin Page A

and shook his head.
    ‘It’s depressing, particularly when you know what’s really going on.’
    ‘And what is going on?’ asked Zen.
    Sinico looked up at him.
    ‘Dottore , the drug trade channelled through the port of Catania alone generates hundreds of millions of US dollars every year. There’s also a lucrative export market in firearms and military supplies, to say nothing of the usual construction scams, prostitution and protection rackets. Meanwhile, the youth unemployment rate is running at fifty per cent. There are seventy thousand people in this city with no visible means of support. Do you think the Mafia is going to have any trouble finding new recruits?’
    ‘But if the bosses are all in jail…’
    ‘Then new bosses will emerge. Someone said that only two things are certain, death and taxes. The Mafia combines both. It’s not going to go away. But whereas we knew who the old capi were, even if we couldn’t lay hands on them, we have virtually no idea at all who’s in charge now. Not only that, but the structure of power is shifting. The Corleonesi are more or less finished, having wiped out all their rivals. But other clans have emerged, two of the most powerful based in Belmonte Mezzagno and Cáccamo.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Exactly Villages up in the mountains behind Palermo. No one’s ever heard of them except the DIA. Ragusa is also emerging as a major centre. In Catania and Messina, you have shifting alliances. The Limina family is on the way out, although they don’t seem to realize it yet. And as if all this weren’t enough, there are reliable rumours that alliances are being formed with the Calabrian n’drangheta , who are the real top dogs now, to say nothing of the start-up Albanian mobs in Puglia, some of which have opened branch offices right here in Sicily. In short, it’s an unbelievably complex and obscure situation, far more so than ever before. But no one wants to know. People here used to say, “What Mafia? There’s no such thing!” The only difference now is that they add “any longer”. Well, I’ve just about had enough, and I’m not the only one, believe me.’
    Zen did believe him, but could hardly afford to say so. His remit was to report on the operations of the Catania DIA, not connive at its dissolution.
    ‘But surely you must have had some successes recently?’ he said encouragingly. ‘That case of the body on the train, for example.’
    Baccio Sinico gave a massively expressive shrug.
    ‘It seems it wasn’t the Limina kid after all.’
    ‘It wasn’t?’
    ‘It seems not.’
    Zen frowned at him.
    ‘How do you mean, “seems”? Either it was or it wasn’t.’
    Sinico smiled his humourless smile once again.
    ‘With all due respect, dottore , it’s easy to see that you’ve only just arrived here. The dualistic, northern approach to life is completely alien to the Sicilian mind. So far from there being just two possibilities, there are, in any given case, an almost infinite number.’
    ‘Skip the philosophy, Sinico,’ Zen retorted gruffly. ‘I’ve never had a head for it.’
    The young officer smiled, this time with genuine warmth.
    ‘I apologize, dottore . A hobby of mine. It’s what I studied at university, until I realized that the job market in that particular subject was rather restricted. And for that matter I make no claims to understanding the Sicilian mentality either. You have to be born here to do that. But to get back to the point, it seems that the judiciary has seen fit to accept the statement of the Limina family that their son is alive and well, on holiday in Costa Rica, despite their reluctance to say exactly where he is, still less produce him in person.’
    ‘So you don’t think their story is true?’
    Baccio Sinico laughed again.
    ‘If you start asking yourself questions like that here in Sicily, you’ll drive yourself mad. I’m just telling you what’s happened. The case is closed and that’s that. As for the truth, who