Gamers...
The word was a slang reference to the gang, whose name was a blend of Capo, as in "head," and morra, a street game played in old Naples.
She added, "But I cannot say for certain. You know how they operate. So quiet, so secretive."
"Of course."
The Camorra was composed of a number of individual cells, with one group not necessarily knowing what the others were up to.
Then she said, "But for what it's worth, sir, there are rumors of some particularly troublesome 'Ndrangheta gang member who's come to the Naples area recently. Nothing specific but I thought you should know."
This caught Rossi's attention.
Italy was known for several organized crime operations: the Mafia in Sicily, the Camorra in and around Naples, the Sacra Corona Unita in Puglia, the southeast of Italy. But perhaps the most dangerous, and the one with the broadest reach--including such places as Scotland and New York--was the 'Ndrangheta, based in Calabria, a region south of Naples.
"Curious for one of them to come here." The group was a rival to the Camorra.
"It is, yes, sir."
"Can you follow up on that too?"
Daniela said, "I'll try." She turned to Ercole and seemed suddenly to remember him, eyeing his gray Forestry Corps uniform. "Yes, from last night."
"Ercole." So her smile a moment ago was not one of recognition.
"Daniela."
He didn't dare offer his hand again. Just a cool-guy nod. A nod worthy of Silvio De Carlo.
Silence for a moment.
Ercole blurted, "You would like a water?"
And as if she didn't know what mineral water might be, he gestured toward the inspector's San Pellegrino, which stood open on the edge of the table.
And struck it, sending the liter bottle cartwheeling to the floor. Being carbonated, it evacuated most of the contents in seconds.
"Oh, no, oh, I'm so sorry..."
Rossi gave a chuckle. Daniela tilted a perplexed look toward Ercole, who crouched and began mopping furiously with paper towels he pulled from a roll in the corner of the room.
"I..." the blushing man stammered. "What have I done? I'm sorry, Inspector. Did I get any on you, Officer Canton?"
Daniela said, "It's no harm."
Ercole continued to mop.
Daniela left the situation room.
As Ercole's eyes followed her, from his kneeling position on the floor, he noted someone else appear in the doorway. It was Dante Spiro, the prosecutor.
The man was looking past Ercole, as if the young officer were not even present. He greeted Rossi and examined the board. He absently slipped into his side pocket the leather book Ercole recognized from last night. He put away a pen too. He'd been jotting something in the volume.
Today Spiro wore black slacks and a tight brown jacket with a yellow pocket square, a white shirt. No tie. He set a briefcase on a desk in the corner, which apparently he had commandeered as his own, and Ercole guessed he would be a frequent visitor. The man's office--Procura della Repubblica Presso il Tribunale di Napoli--was on the Via Costantino Grimaldi, across the street from the criminal courts. It was not far from the Questura here, a ten-minute drive.
"Prosecutor Spiro," he said, still mopping.
A glance at Ercole, then a frown, wondering, clearly, who he was.