MAFIA

I spend the weekend at Dimitri’s house. He has come down with the flu and is in bed Sunday morning. As his two-year-old and four-year-old daughters playfully climb over his naked belly, Dimitri casually discusses a potential hit on Tanzania’s President Nyerere. “I’m not sure if I want to take the contract,” he mutters over his little girls’ giggly horseplay. “Not enough money for the bother.”