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out doing real
operations instead of signing reports and giving orders, law enforcement truly
teetered on a razor’s edge. Costa’s head, shaved bare to the skin, glinted from
the small light in the van’s ceiling. They sat on the bench that ran along the
inside of the van, while Costa stood stooped in the middle, bracing himself on
the walls with both hands. He knocked on the panel immediately behind the
driver and the van’s engine turned over twice before coughing to life. Then the
van moved slowly off the pier.
    “Thanks to our colleagues from Capri for coming,” Colonel
Costa began, raising his voice to be heard over the engine. “I’m glad the
island is calm enough for you to assist us.” His face grew grimmer. “I wish I
could say the same for Naples. We’ve been stretched thin already—most of my
officers are guarding critical infrastructure, not kicking in doors. The
Camorra clans have been active, taking advantage of the fear of this outbreak,
whatever it is.”
    Costa continued, briefing-style, all business.
    “So here’s the sitrep: Coordinated raids on organized crime
cells are taking place all over the country tonight, on direct orders of the
Commanding General himself.” Costa paused to let the import of his words sink
in before continuing. “Every major city in the country has at least ten squads
making arrests tonight. There are twelve other squads in Naples alone. In Rome
and Milan, there are even more. Tomorrow morning, the PM is going to announce
this initiative to enforce the weapons confiscation order and smash organized
crime once and for all.” Veri exchanged a knowing glance with Bruno and
Cristian.
    Costa’s voice grew severe. “But back to our business
tonight. Our targets are these six individuals—two Bosnians, and four
Camorristi—they’re holed up at this address.” Costa pulled out a flat screen
pad from a deep pocket in his jacket and handed it to Veri. “Here are pictures
of them and a schematic of the building and their flat.” Veri studied it,
swiping through each photo, and passed the pad along.
    As they looked at the pictures, Bruno eyed his colleagues in
the van, wondering when the last time was any of them had been on a raid. He
recognized a couple of them, like Marco, who was supposed to have come to Capri
but instead ended up stuck in Naples. Marco and a few others looked like they had
just started to shave. The rest of them teetered on the edge of what should
have been a lengthy, well-deserved retirement. Bruno hoped they hadn’t gone too
soft from years of riding a desk. This whole damned operation struck Bruno as
futile. Why go after a few thugs now? What good would it do, with some sort of
unknown virus spreading?
    Costa continued to talk as each team member looked at the
pad. “This bunch crawled out of some shithole more than a year ago, and their
gang’s been terrorizing the Quartieri Spagnoli worse than any other Camorra
clan.”
    Costa paused, giving time for each team member to study
information on the pad. “Note that two of the Camorristi are brothers. They’re
probably the most dangerous. These two and their crew have muscled the Russo
clan out of their territory. And I don’t have to tell you what a bunch of
savages that lot was. These brothers have both done time for assault with a
deadly weapon and extortion, and are implicated in the killings of five rival
clan bosses. God knows what else they’ve done that we don’t know about. So be
careful.” By the time the last person handed the pad back to Costa, the van had
come to a stop.
    Costa looked at the men arrayed around him. “No doubt some
of you are wondering why we are bothering with this scum at a time like this.
Keep in mind, this is a nationwide, coordinated effort. Like I said, there are
twelve other squads in Naples taking part in raids tonight, not to mention in
Milan, Palermo, Catania, Rome, Bari—I could go on.” His eyes now shone with
emotion as he spoke. “If we can