Zero Zero Zero

From the author of the number one international bestseller Gomorrah comes a landmark investigation of the international cocaine cartels, as ruthless as they are powerful, and their hidden role in the global economy.

Klappentext

"Zero zero zero" is the nickname among narcotraffickers for the purest, highest quality cocaine on the market. And it is the title of Roberto Saviano's unforgettable exploration of how the cocaine trade knits the world into its dark economy and imposes its own vicious rules and moral codes on its armies and, through them, on us all.

Autorentext
Roberto Saviano, 1979 in Neapel geboren, arbeitete nach dem Philosophiestudium als Journalist. Seit Erscheinen seines Bestsellers Gomorrha steht er wegen andauernder Morddrohungen von Seiten der Camorra unter Personenschutz und lebt im Untergrund. 2012 erhielt er den Olof-Palme-Preis für seinen publizistischen Einsatz gegen organisiertes Verbrechen und Korruption.

Klappentext

"Zero zero zero" is the nickname among narcotraffickers for the purest, highest quality cocaine on the market. And it is the title of Roberto Saviano's unforgettable exploration of how the cocaine trade knits the world into its dark economy and imposes its own vicious rules and moral codes on its armies and, through them, on us all.

Zusammenfassung
The Economist : Taken as a whole, [ZeroZeroZero] is an angry rebuke to all those-traffickers and politicians alike-who perpetuate the violence....By reminding readers of the senseless suffering wrought by the cocaine trade, this book makes a powerful case for a new approach." Financial Times : In articulating [his] cri de coeur, [Saviano] has developed a literary style that switches from vivid descriptions of human depravity to a philosophical consideration of the meaning of violence in the modern world. Indeed, when he revisits his work on Naples - the city where he was brought up and from which he is now excluded - his reflections soar into the realm of the poetic. But for me, most important of all is the hope Saviano gives to countless victims of criminal violence by standing up to its perpetrators, especially those from his home country. Booklist (starred review) : "With keen observation and deep probing, Saviano is an anthropologist and philosopher as much as a journalist. This is an epic account of how the modern cocaine trafficking business came to be and how widespread, how impenetrable, and how intertwined with international commerce and politics-and our everyday lives-it is." Kirkus : "This revealing new book, with a strong focus on Mexico's cartels, surges with fast-moving prose detailing the lives of drug lords and pushers, the inner workings of their violent world, and how their lucrative business (between $25 billion and $50 billion annually) affects all our lives.... Saviano describes the complexities of money laundering, how world banks help make it possible, and the many ways in which drugs are smuggled: in paintings, handcrafted doors, frozen fish, and more. Throughout, the author provides vivid stories of the lives of well-known drug bosses and their minions. Saviano says he can no longer look at a beach or a map without seeing cocaine, and many will share that view after reading this dark, relentless, hyperreal report." From the Hardcover edition.

Leseprobe
The guy sitting next to you on the train uses cocaine, he took it to get himself going this morning; or the driver of the bus you're taking home, he wants to put in some overtime without feeling the cramps in his neck. The people closest to you use coke. If it's not your mother or father, if it's not your brother, then it's your son. And if your son doesn't use it, your boss does. Or your boss's secretary, but only on Saturdays, just for fun. And if your boss doesn't, his wife does, to let herself go. And if not his wife, then his lover-he gives her cocaine instead of earrings, in place of diamonds. And if they don't, the truck driver delivering tons of coffee to cafés around town does; he wouldn't be able to hack those long hours on the road without it. And if he doesn't, the nurse who's changing your grandfather's catheter does. Coke makes everything seem so much easier, even the night shift. And if she doesn't, the painter redoing your girlfriend's room does; he was just curious at first but wound up deep in debt. The people who use cocaine are right here, right next to you. The police officer who's about to pull you over has been snorting for years, and everyone knows it, and they write anonymous letters to his chief hoping he'll be suspended before he screws up big time. Or the surgeon who's just waking up and will soon operate on your aunt. Cocaine helps him cut open six people a day. Or your divorce lawyer. Or the judge presiding over your lawsuit; he doesn't consider it a vice, though, just a little boost, a way to get more out of life. The cashier who hands you the lottery ticket you hope is going to change your life. The carpenter who's installing the cabinets that cost you a month's salary. Or the workman who came to put together the IKEA closet you couldn't figure out how to assemble on your own. If not him, then the manager of your condo building who is just about to buzz you. Or your electrician, the one who's in your bedroom right now, moving the outlets. The singer you are listening to to unwind, the parish priest you're going to talk to about finally getting confirmed because your grandson's getting baptized, and he's amazed you've put it off for so long. The waiters who will work the wedding you're going to next Saturday; they wouldn't be able to last on their feet all that time if they didn't. If not them, then the town councillor who just approved the new pedestrian zones, and who gets his coke free in exchange for favors. The parking lot attendant who's happy now only when he's high. The architect who renovated your vacation home, the mailman who just delivered your new ATM card. If not them, then the woman at the call center who asks "How may I help you?" in that shrill, happy voice, the same for every caller, thanks to the white powder. If not her, your professor's research assistant-coke makes him nervous. Or the physiotherapist who's trying to get your knee working right. Coke makes him more sociable. The forward who just scored, spoiling the bet you were winning right up until the final minutes of the game. The prostitute you go to on your way home, when you just can't take it anymore and need to vent. She does it so she won't have to see whoever is on top or under or behind her anymore. The gigolo you treated yourself to for your fiftieth birthday. You did it together. Coke makes him feel really macho. The sparring partner you train with in the ring, to lose weight. And if he doesn't, your daughter's riding instructor does, and so does your wife's psychologist. Your husband's best friend uses it, the one who's been hitting on you for years but whom you've never liked. And if he doesn't, then your school principal does. Along with the janitor. And the real estate agent, who's late, just when you finally managed to find time to see the apartment. The security guard uses it, the one who still combs his hair over his bald spot, even though guys all shave their heads these days. And if he doesn't, t