Free Adam's Rib by Antonio Manzini

senators, commissioners and outside consultants, none of them are civil servants, Schiavone. They’re servants of the parties they belong to. And in that case, let the parties pay them!”
    Rocco raised his eyebrows. “I’d have to give that some thought.”
    â€œBy all means, Schiavone. Think it over. And please, help me understand what happened to Esther Baudo. I leave that case in your hands. After all, it’s clear that I can rely on you.”
    Baldi’s expression had changed. Now a sinister light glittered in his eyes.
    â€œOf course I can rely on you.”
    The magistrate’s mouth stretched out in a false, menacing smile. “And since I want to rely on you, look, I’d really like to get your version.”
    â€œMy version of what?”
    â€œOf what happened in Rome.”
    Oh my God, what a pain in the ass, thought Rocco, but he kept it to himself. “You know everything that happened;there are reports and documentation. I’m sure you’ve read them. Why dig into it again?”
    â€œIt seems to be an occupational hazard with me. I’d just like to hear your version. You’ve been here for six months now. You can tell me, can’t you?”
    â€œAll right then.” Rocco took a deep breath, got comfortable, and began. “Giorgio Borghetti Ansaldo, age twenty-nine, had a bad habit: he liked to rape young girls. I followed him, I stopped him, but there was nothing I could do about him. It just so happens that his father, Fernando Borghetti Ansaldo, is the undersecretary for foreign affairs. You may have seen his name in the news.”
    Baldi nodded, brow furrowed in concentration.
    â€œOkay. Giorgio didn’t shake his bad habit, and he kept it up until one day he practically killed a certain Marta De Cesaris, age sixteen, who lost her sight in one eye; a hundred years of therapy will never turn her back into the pretty, carefree high school student who attended the Liceo Virgilio in Rome. So I finally had my fill, I went to see Giorgio, and I gave him a serious beat-down.”
    â€œTranslate beat-down.”
    â€œI beat him up. I beat him up so bad that now the guy has to use a cane to get around. But he’s still the undersecretary’s son. And the undersecretary made me pay for what I did. There, that’s the story.”
    Baldi nodded again. Then he looked Rocco Schiavone in the eye. “That’s not the kind of law enforcement we’re in the business of delivering.”
    â€œI know. And my answer is I don’t give a shit.”
    â€œYou seem to be overlooking the subtle but undeniable difference between a policeman and a judge.”
    â€œAnd again, the aforementioned answer.”
    â€œFine. I thank you for your sincerity. But now let me tell you something. Listen up and listen good, because I’m only going to tell you once. If you go on being a good cop, you’re not going to have any problems, neither with me nor with the regional government. But if you start stepping over the line into my jurisdiction, I’ll turn your life into a living hell, even if you’re all the way up here in the snowy mountains. You’ll have a bad case of hemorrhoids from all the kicks in the ass I’ll give you. Arrivederci .” And he leaned over his documents again. Rocco said good-bye and left the office, deciding as he went that the right position for a manic depressive wasn’t in the district attorney’s office, but a nice quiet home somewhere, where he could take plenty of medicine and relax by taking long meditative walks.
    Outside, night was falling. As Rocco walked he kept getting the distinct sensation he’d forgotten something. Something important, something fundamental. He lit a cigarette and went back over everything that had happened that day. He thought about Esther Baudo, her husband, the apartment turned upside down, Irina, the retired warrant officer. Nothing. He was