though that may be the outcome that he actually intends. 4
Oliviero Drigani, the prosecutor who arrested Paoli in 1983, remains sceptical of his reliability and convinced of the sincerity of Emilio Pellicani, the witness who identified him as the mysterious
biondino.
Now an appeal court judge in Trieste, he recalled with satisfaction the complex investigation into the illegal export of currency by local businessmen that helped to establish his professional reputation and first led him into contact with the Calvi case. ‘In 1980 there was an enormous outflow of currency because of the economic and political situation,’ he told me. Much of it ended up in Switzerland, in the Banco Ambrosiano-controlled Banca del Gottardo in Lugano, some of it smuggled across the border in suitcases and some of it concealed in
anstalts
, secretive fiduciary companies created under the Gottardo’s umbrella. Drigani recalled the intense hostility aroused by his investigation at the time and the anxieties expressed to him by his chief investigator, Captain Rino Stanig of the finance police. He continues to wonder whether Calvi’s visit to Trieste was simply a coincidence or in some way connected to the money-smuggling operations he was then probing. ‘The intriguing aspect of Calvi’s passage through Trieste was the possible connection to the financial inquiries I was conducting atthat time,’ he said, explaining the investigators’ surprise at seeing this top financier appear ‘like a Ronaldo . . . on the amateurs pitch’. 5 Though Drigani managed to secure convictions, including that of an important Swiss-Italian lawyer, his inquiry never clarified the role of Roberto Calvi.
There were other good reasons for taking Paoli’s initial information seriously, however, clues that lead in the direction of terrorism and the arms trade, two highly sensitive strategic activities at the time of the Cold War. The finance police report dated 5 July 1983 related the following claim from source ‘Podgora’: ‘In Rome, prior to his flight, Calvi was shown a false arrest warrant to which he had previously been alerted by Gelli. This was allegedly the reason for the banker’s flight.’ There is indeed substance to this claim, a substance that creates a surprising connection to the terrorist bomb that exploded at Bologna railway station in 1980.
Other confidential reports show Paoli had informed his handlers of a plot to assassinate Flavio Carboni following his extradition from Switzerland and incarceration in Lodi prison, south-east of Milan. The plan was for a marksman to shoot Carboni with a high-powered rifle from a bell-tower overlooking the prison. The weapon was to be obtained from an arms dealer who happened to live in the same Austrian town as the Kleinszig sisters. The dealer was alleged to be an expert in the procurement of false end-user certificates for the arms trade, and to be in contact with another arms dealer, Henri Arsan, with ‘an Arab arms trader named Kassogi’, and with the Banco Ambrosiano consultant Francesco Pazienza. Right or wrong about the plot to kill Carboni, the last three names mentioned by Paoli all have right of place in the Calvi story and lead us towards the delicate financial activities that may explain the banker’s murder.
Confused and mistaken though he may have been at times, Paoli’s evidence laid out for investigators from very early ona number of remarkable true facts about Calvi’s last days, but investigators preferred to look the other way. The delicacy of the case is understandable: Calvi travelled to London with a Sardinian businessman, Carboni, who claimed to work for the secret services, and an Adriatic smuggler, Vittor, whose speciality was clandestine access to an Eastern Bloc country and who doubled as an informant to the finance police. The potential sensitivity of Vittor’s role led the commander of the finance police to write to Tina Anselmi, the president of the parliamentary
Oliviero Drigani, the prosecutor who arrested Paoli in 1983, remains sceptical of his reliability and convinced of the sincerity of Emilio Pellicani, the witness who identified him as the mysterious
biondino.
Now an appeal court judge in Trieste, he recalled with satisfaction the complex investigation into the illegal export of currency by local businessmen that helped to establish his professional reputation and first led him into contact with the Calvi case. ‘In 1980 there was an enormous outflow of currency because of the economic and political situation,’ he told me. Much of it ended up in Switzerland, in the Banco Ambrosiano-controlled Banca del Gottardo in Lugano, some of it smuggled across the border in suitcases and some of it concealed in
anstalts
, secretive fiduciary companies created under the Gottardo’s umbrella. Drigani recalled the intense hostility aroused by his investigation at the time and the anxieties expressed to him by his chief investigator, Captain Rino Stanig of the finance police. He continues to wonder whether Calvi’s visit to Trieste was simply a coincidence or in some way connected to the money-smuggling operations he was then probing. ‘The intriguing aspect of Calvi’s passage through Trieste was the possible connection to the financial inquiries I was conducting atthat time,’ he said, explaining the investigators’ surprise at seeing this top financier appear ‘like a Ronaldo . . . on the amateurs pitch’. 5 Though Drigani managed to secure convictions, including that of an important Swiss-Italian lawyer, his inquiry never clarified the role of Roberto Calvi.
There were other good reasons for taking Paoli’s initial information seriously, however, clues that lead in the direction of terrorism and the arms trade, two highly sensitive strategic activities at the time of the Cold War. The finance police report dated 5 July 1983 related the following claim from source ‘Podgora’: ‘In Rome, prior to his flight, Calvi was shown a false arrest warrant to which he had previously been alerted by Gelli. This was allegedly the reason for the banker’s flight.’ There is indeed substance to this claim, a substance that creates a surprising connection to the terrorist bomb that exploded at Bologna railway station in 1980.
Other confidential reports show Paoli had informed his handlers of a plot to assassinate Flavio Carboni following his extradition from Switzerland and incarceration in Lodi prison, south-east of Milan. The plan was for a marksman to shoot Carboni with a high-powered rifle from a bell-tower overlooking the prison. The weapon was to be obtained from an arms dealer who happened to live in the same Austrian town as the Kleinszig sisters. The dealer was alleged to be an expert in the procurement of false end-user certificates for the arms trade, and to be in contact with another arms dealer, Henri Arsan, with ‘an Arab arms trader named Kassogi’, and with the Banco Ambrosiano consultant Francesco Pazienza. Right or wrong about the plot to kill Carboni, the last three names mentioned by Paoli all have right of place in the Calvi story and lead us towards the delicate financial activities that may explain the banker’s murder.
Confused and mistaken though he may have been at times, Paoli’s evidence laid out for investigators from very early ona number of remarkable true facts about Calvi’s last days, but investigators preferred to look the other way. The delicacy of the case is understandable: Calvi travelled to London with a Sardinian businessman, Carboni, who claimed to work for the secret services, and an Adriatic smuggler, Vittor, whose speciality was clandestine access to an Eastern Bloc country and who doubled as an informant to the finance police. The potential sensitivity of Vittor’s role led the commander of the finance police to write to Tina Anselmi, the president of the parliamentary
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