Uniform Justice cgb-12

by Donna Leon

Hearing her unfeigned astonishment, Brunetti wondered

  how long it would take him to explain her reaction to a foreigner. Her

  response presumed Moro's honesty, and her astonishment that an honest

  man had been placed on any committee that would make decisions that

  might somehow affect the allocation of significant amounts of

  government funds.

  "I've no idea he answered. "Perhaps you could see who else served on

  the committee with him."

  "Certainly, sir. Government records are very easy to access she said,

  leaving him to speculate about the precise level of criminality lurking

  in that verb.

  He looked at his watch and asked, "Should I go and have lunch or should

  I wait?"

  "Lunch, sir, I think she advised and was gone.

  He walked down to Testiere, where the owner would always find him a

  place, and had a fish antipasto and then a piece of grilled tuna Bruno

  swore was fresh. For all the attention Brunetti paid to it, the fish

  could have been frozen or freeze-dried. At any other time, ignoring a

  meal this fine would have shamed Brunetti: today he could not drag

  himself away from his attempt to discover the connection between Moro's

  professional life and the suffering inflicted upon his family, and so

  the meal remained eaten but untasted.

  He stopped at the door to Signorina Elettra's office and found her

  standing at her window, looking off down the canal that led toward the

  Bacino. Her attention was so absorbed in whatever she was watching

  that she didn't hear him come in, and he stopped, reluctant to startle

  her. Her arms were crossed on her breast, and she stood with her

  shoulder leaning against the window frame, one leg crossed in front of

  the other. He saw her in profile and as he watched, she lowered her

  head and closed her eyes for a heartbeat longer than necessary. She

  opened them, took a breath so deep he saw her breasts rise, and turned

  away from the window. And saw him watching her.

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  Three seconds passed. Paola had once told him that the Irish often

  said, in moments when consolation was necessary, "I'm sorry for your

  trouble', and it was on his lips to say this when she took a step

  towards her desk, tried to smile, and said, "I've got everything but

  said it in the voice of someone who had nothing.

  Three more seconds passed and then he joined her at her desk, in

  unspoken agreement that they would ignore what had just happened.

  He saw two piles of papers. Standing, she pointed to the first, saying

  as she did, That's a list of students who have fathers in the military

  or the government that's the only thing I checked about the students.

  And under it is a list of the faculty, which branch of the military

  they served in, and the final rank they held. And beneath that a list

  of the men who served on the committee for military procurement with

  Dottor Moro."

  Curiosity overcame good sense and he asked, "All right. Please tell me

  where you got all of this." When she didn't answer, he held up his

  right hand and said, "I promise, on the head of anyone in my family you

  choose to name, that I will never repeat what you tell me, will forget

  it the instant you tell me, will not allow Lieutenant Scarpa, no matter

  what means he employs, ever, to wrest it from me."

  She considered this. "What if he makes horrible threats?"

  "Like what, invites me for a drink?"

  "Worse. Dinner."

  The shall be strong."

  She capitulated. There's a way to access military personnel files. All

  you need is the code and then the service number of any member."

  Because she was volunteering this, Brunetti did not ask how she got the

  code or the numbers. "Parliament is too easy," she said with contempt.

  "A child could get in." He assumed she was talking about the computer

  files, not the building.

  "And the lists from the schools?" he asked.

  She gave him a long, speculative look, and he nodded, renewing his vow

  of silence. She said, Tucetti stole them when he was there and gave

  them to me in case they might be useful."

  "Have you had time to study them?"

  "A little. Some names occur on more than one list."

  "For example?"

  She pulled a sheet of paper from the first pile and pointed to two

  names that she had already highlighted in yellow. "Maggiore Marcello

  Filippi and Colonello Giovanni Toscano."

  Tell me he said. "It's faster."

  "The Maggiore was in the Army for twenty-seven years and retired three

  years ago. For the six years immediately before his retirement, he was

  in charge of the procurement office for the Paratroopers. His son is a

  third-year student at the Academy." She pointed to the second name.

  "The Colonello served as military adviser to the parliamentary

  committee on which Moro served. He now teaches at the Academy. He was

  in Paris, attending a seminar, during the week the boy died."

  "Isn't that something of a fall from grace, to go from a job in

  Parliament to teaching at a military academy in the provinces?"

  The Colonello retired after twenty-two years of military service under

  something of a cloud," Signorina Elettra said. "Or at least," she

  immediately corrected herself, 'that's the sense I get from reading the

  internal files."

  Internal files, Brunetti repeated to himself. Where would she stop?

  "What do they say?"

  That certain members of the committee registered less than total

  satisfaction with the Colonello's performance. One of them even went

  so far as to suggest that the Colonello was not at all impartial in the

  advice he provided the committee."

  "Moro?"

  "Yes."

  "Ah."

  "Indeed."

  "Less than impartial in what way?" Brunetti asked.

  "It didn't say, though there's not far to look, is there?"

  "No, I suppose not." If the Colonello were partial in a way which the

  committee did not like, it would have to be in favour of the firms

  which supplied the military, and the men who owned them. Brunetti's

  atavistic cynicism suggested here that it might just as easily mean

  that Toscano was in the pay of companies different from those making

  payments to the parliamentarians on the committee. The marvel here was

  not that he was partial why else seek a position like this but that he

  should have been .. . Brunetti stopped himself from saying the word

  'caught', even in his mind. It was remarkable that he should have been

  forced to retire, for Brunetti could not imagine that a man in this

  position would go quietly. How obvious or excessive must his

  partiality have been if it had led to his retirement?

  "Is he Venetian, the Colonello?" he asked.

  "No, but his wife is."

  "When did they come here?"

  "Two years ago. Upon his retirement

  "Do you have any idea of how much he earns as a teacher at the

  Academy?"

&nb
sp; Signorina Elettra pointed to the paper again. "All of their salaries

  are listed to the right of their names."

  "Presumably, he's also receiving his military pension," Brunetti

  said.

  That's listed, as well she answered.

  Brunetti looked at the paper and saw that the sum of the Colonello's

  pension plus his salary at the Academy was well in excess of his own

  salary as a commissa rio "Not bad, I'd say."

  "They struggle though, I suppose," she observed.

  The wife?"

  "Rich."

  "What does he teach?"

  "History and Military Theory."

  "And does he have a particular political stance that he brings to the

  teaching of history?"

  She smiled at the delicacy of his phrasing and answered, "I can't

  answer that yet, sir. I've got a friend whose uncle teaches

  Mathematics there, and he's promised to ask him."

  "It's probably a safe guess what his ideas would be she went on, 'but

  it's always best to check."

  He nodded. Neither of them had any illusions about the view of

  politics and, for that fact, history likely to be held by a man who had

  spent twenty-two years in the military. But, like Signorina Elettra,

  Brunetti thought it would be best to be certain.

  "And the two men?" he asked. "Did they ever serve together?"

  She smiled again, as if this time pleased with his perspicacity, and

  pulled towards her the second pile of papers. "It would seem that, at

  the same time as the Colonello was giving his advice to the

  parliamentary committee, the newly retired Maggiore was on the board of

  directors of Edilan-Forma."

  "Which is?" he asked.

  "A Ravenna-based company which supplies uniforms, boots and backpacks

  to the military, along with other things."

  "What other things?"

  "I've not been able to break into their computer yet," she said,

  clearly still in no doubt that this entire conversation was protected

  by the same dispensation. "But it looks like they supply anything

  soldiers can wear or carry. It would seem, as well, that they serve as

  subcontractors for companies that sell food and drink to the

  military."

  "And all of this means?" Brunetti asked.

  "Millions, sir, millions and millions. It's a money fountain,

  or it could be. After all, the military spends about seventeen billion

  Euros a year."

  "But that's insane he blurted out.

  "Not for anyone who has a chance to take any of it home, it's not she

  said.

  "Edilan-Forma?"

  "Even so she replied, and then returned to the information she had

  gathered. "At one point, the committee examined the contracts with

  Edilan-Forma because one of the committee members had raised questions

  about them."

  Though he barely thought it necessary, Brunetti asked, "Moro?"

  She nodded.

  "What sort of questions?"

  "The parliamentary minutes mention pricing for a number of items, also

  the quantities ordered she said.

  "And what happened?"

  "When the committee member resigned, the questions were not

  repeated."

  "And the contracts?"

  They were all renewed."

  Was he mad, he wondered, to find this so normal and so simple to

  understand? Or were they all mad, everyone in the country, in a way

  that demanded the papers lying on Signorina Elettra's desk could be

  read in only one way? The public purse was a grab bag, and public

  spoil the supreme gift of office. Moro, stupid and transparently

  honest Moro, had dared to question this. Brunetti was no longer in any

  doubt that the answer to Moro's questions had been given, not to him,

  but to his family.

  "If you haven't already begun it, could you take a closer look at

  Toscano and Filippi?"

  "I was just beginning that when you came in, sir she said. "But my

  friend in Rome, the one who works in military records, has been sent to

  Livorno for a few days, so I won't

  have access to their records until the end of the week."

  Failing to remind her that she had been standing at the window, looking

  out sadly at her past or her future, when he came in, not beginning to

  work on anything, Brunetti thanked her and went back to his office.

  By force of will, Brunetti kept himself at the Questura until the

  normal time for leaving. He occupied himself with reading and

  initialling reports, then decided that he would read only every second

  one, then every third, though he scrupulously wrote a careful "GB' on

  the bottom of all of them, even the unread ones. As his eyes ran over

  the words, the columns of numbers, the endless spew of facts and

  figures that were as closely related to reality as Anna Anderson to

  Tsar Nicholas II, Brunetti's thoughts remained anchored to Moro.

  Just before leaving, he called Avisani in Palermo.

  Again, the journalist answered with his name.

  "It's me, Beppe," Brunetti said.

  "It's not even a day, Guide. Give me some time, will you?" the

  journalist said waspishly.

  "I'm not calling to nag, Beppe. Believe me. It's that I want to add

  two names to the list Brunetti began. Before Avisani could refuse, he

  continued, "Colonello Giovanni Toscano and Maggiore Marcello

  Filippi."

  After a long time, Avisani said, "Well, well, well. If there's salt,

  there's pepper; oil, there's vinegar; smoke, fire."

  "And Toscano, Filippi, I assume?" Brunetti asked.

  "Very much so. How is it you've stumbled on those two?"

  "Moro," Brunetti said simply. They're both tied to the committee Moro

  was working on when he left Parliament."

  "Ah yes. Procurement/ Avisani said, stretching the word out as if

  better to enjoy the sound of it.

  "Do you know anything?" Brunetti asked, though he was sure his friend

  did.

  "I know that Colonello Toscano was encouraged to leave his position as

  consultant to the parliamentary committee and soon after that decided

  to retire from the Army."

  "And Filippi?"

  "My sense is that the Maggiore decided his position had become too

  obvious."

  "What position was that?"

  "Husband to the cousin of the president of the company from whom the

  Paratroopers obtained most of their supplies."

  "Edilan-Forma?" Brunetti inquired.

  "Haven't you been a busy boy?" Avisani asked by way of compliment.

  Honesty demanded that Brunetti make it clear that it was Signorina

  Elettra who had been a busy girl, but he thought it best not to reveal

  this to a member of the press. "Have you written about this?" Brunetti

  asked.

  Time and time again, Guido," Avisani answered with heavy resignation.

  "And?"

  "And what are people supposed to do? Pretend to be surprised, pretend

  this isn't the way they do business, too? Remember what that

  television comic said when they started the Mani Pulite

  investigation?"

  That we were all guilty of corruption and should all spend

  a few days in jail?" Brunetti asked, remembering Beppe Grille's

  frenetic admonition to his fellow citizens. He
was a comic, Grillo,

  and so people were free to laugh, though what he said that night had

  been in no way funny.

  "Yes," Avisani said, pulling back Brunetti's attention. "I've been

  writing articles about this for years, about this and about other

  agencies of the government that exist primarily to siphon money to

  friends and relatives. And no one cares." He waited for Brunetti to

  react, and then repeated, "No one cares because they all think that,

  sooner or later, they might get a chance at some of the easy money, so

  it's in their best interests that the system stay the way it is. And

  it does."

  Since Brunetti knew this to be the case, there was no reason to object

  to his friend's remarks. Returning to Avisani's original reaction, he

  asked, "Is that the only way they're linked?"

  "No. They graduated in the same class from the Academy in Modena/

  "And after that?" Brunetti asked.