By My Hand by Maurizio de Giovanni, Antony Shugaar Page A

they’d uncovered a lot of smuggling operations.”
    Another silence. This time they could hear Criscuolo sigh, a sigh accompanied by a quiver in his cat whiskers that didn’t escape Maione’s notice. The Seniore was clearly having a hard time continuing. His voice dropped an octave.
    â€œOne day, Garofalo knocked at the door of the consul’s office, without even stopping to speak to the usher first. He said that he had something he needed to show someone, and that he could reveal it only in the presence of the highest officer of the legion. The consul summoned me as a witness, so that if needed I could testify concerning this act of insubordination. Garofalo announced that he had uncovered a large-scale coffee smuggling ring that had been active for many months, perhaps for years. He said that he’d informed his superior officer, Lomunno, of his discovery, but that he’d been told to say nothing about it.”
    Maione looked at Criscuolo and saw that the man was staring at Spasiano with a silent note of accusation in his eyes.
    â€œWhy would this Lomunno have ordered Garofalo not to say anything?” Ricciardi asked.
    Spasiano went on.
    â€œExactly. The Signor Consul asked the same question. Garofalo reported that he’d even been threatened with disciplinary sanctions by his superior officer if he talked, and that he’d been unable to understand the reason under the circumstances. Later he said that he’d stopped some of the smugglers and that one of them, in order to gain his release, had declared that he paid a monthly sum to Lomunno in order to be allowed to continue his smuggling without interference.”
    Criscuolo sighed again.
    â€œI’m sorry, but did this Garofalo produce even a shred of evidence?” Maione asked. “Or is it enough to lodge an accusation when you feel like it, from one day to the next?”
    â€œOf course he did, Brigadier,” Spasiano replied. “We’re not savages. Foremost among our considerations was the fact that Lomunno’s service record was perfect, as I’ve told you; he was one of the finest officers in the legion, skillful and knowledgeable, with great instincts and intelligence. But Garofalo said that the smuggler, on condition of anonymity, had revealed the exact date on which he paid his monthly kickback to Lomunno, and that as it happened it was that same day. Garofalo invited us to question the officer, who had just returned to the barracks from an inspection.”
    Maione sat openmouthed.
    â€œAnd you believed him?”
    Spasiano shrugged.
    â€œWhat else could we do? The Signor Consul told Garofalo that, if his charges proved to be unfounded, he’d be punished with expulsion from the corps and that he might well face proceedings for defamation of an officer of the National Volunteer Militia.”
    â€œAnd what did he say in response?” asked Maione.
    â€œHe asked, ‘And if it’s true? What would be my reward?’”
    Criscuolo puffed out his cheeks, then said:
    â€œMay I go, Seniore? I’ll finish after my inspection, that way you can . . .”
    â€œNo, don’t leave, Criscuolo,” Spasiano replied. “It’s better that someone else be present to hear the story I’m about to tell. The order comes from the consul, but still, this is privileged information.”
    â€œAt your orders, Seniore.”
    Ricciardi had listened carefully to this exchange. Criscuolo seemed to be in some discomfort hearing the story, which, in any case, he must have known quite well. Spasiano continued.
    â€œWe were so sure that the accusation was false that the consul said in my presence, ‘If it were true, he’d receive the maximum punishment allowable. Corruption is a cancer that the legion cannot allow to spread. You, on the other hand, would be promoted, for having had the courage to . . . to accuse an unworthy colleague.”
    A cold drizzle