Two years later, snow fell outside my clinic again.
The espresso machine hummed in my private lounge. Beyond the panoramic window, the street was turning white. I poured a coffee before leaving for the day.
The television on the wall was muted. I usually ignored it, but the Moretti name crossed the news ticker.
*The Moretti crime family has collapsed after decades as a dominant force in international crime.*
I picked up the remote and raised the volume.
“The last parts of the organization were dismantled in a series of raids last month,” the reporter said. “Its former head, Dante Moretti, remains in a maximum-security psychiatric facility in the Alps. Doctors report no change. He is unresponsive and continues to repeat one thing.”
The screen changed to a grainy long-lens photograph.
