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Campsite Media

There's a scene that I have been obsessed with for the past several years.

It took place on a cool summer night in Austria in 1982.

Italian banker Roberto Calvi sat in front of a cold fireplace.

For him, it was a rare moment of stillness in what had been a full week on the run.

His designer's suit was disheveled.

There were sweat stains on his once crisp, button-up shirt, and dirt on his pants and jacket. He left his home in Rome in such a rush

there wasn't much time to pack. A couple of suitcases, a forged passport, and the precious item

that hadn't left his sight since. His leather briefcase. Calvi picked up a book of matches and struck,

igniting the small cavern of the brick fireplace.

One by one, he pulled the documents from the briefcase,

dropping them carefully into the fire, page after page.

Were these paper trails of illegal wire transfers,

maybe blackmail materials on his rich and powerful clients?

I can't be sure.

But Calvi didn't burn everything.

Some papers he stowed back in the case.

Maybe he could use them to cut a deal and save himself,

or perhaps one of those powerful clients might protect him

in order to protect their secrets.

...