The Age of Doubt

by Andrea Camilleri

  “I see. And who was Shaikiri?”

  “An agent of ours who’d succeeded in infiltrating their group. Their suspicions were likely aroused when he got himself arrested twice in barely twenty-four hours. Do you know how they killed him?”

  “Yes. First they stuck his head into a bucket full of saltwater to make it look like he’d drowned at sea, and then—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “It’s true they did it to make it look like he’d drowned, but the main reason was to torture him. But it looks like he broke down and talked.”

  “I’m sorry, but could you explain to me exactly what the U.N. has to do with all this?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Kimberley Process?”

  “Yes, but I still haven’t had time to—”

  “I’ll sum it up for you in a few words. It’s an international organization that was set up in 2002 to oversee the exportation and importation of diamonds. The governments of sixty-nine different countries have so far agreed to comply with it. But, as you probably can imagine, some three or four percent of all diamonds extracted are still done clandestinely.”

  “I see. But where does the U.N. come in?”

  “The U.N.’s role is to make sure the diamonds on the illegal circuit don’t become war diamonds.”

  War diamonds? What on earth could that mean? The young woman noticed his puzzlement.

  “By that I mean diamonds that come illicitly from areas controlled by forces opposed to legitmate governments—guerrilla forces, rebels, tribal or political factions, adversaries of any kind . . . With the proceeds they can buy all the weapons they like.”

  “And what sort of situation are we dealing with here and now, in your opinion?”

  “Well, I think we’ve been presented with an incredible, perhaps unique opportunity.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The Ace of Hearts, which must certainly have a cargo of diamonds aboard, has been stuck in your port with engine trouble. I am sure they summoned Lannec to pass him the diamonds, probably so he could take them back to Paris. But then Lannec got killed.”

  “Why, in your opinion?”

  “I think Zigami will tell us that after we’ve arrested him.”

  “Any hypotheses?”

  “I think Zigami has only been following orders. After the murder, I requested some more information from people who know more than I do. Apparently other elements at the top of the organization no longer had much confidence in him. Or it might have been some sort of internal struggle, I don’t know. So the present situation is the following: The diamonds are still aboard the Ace of Hearts. Not only, but there must also be some aboard the Vanna, since the cruiser was unable to meet them out on the open sea to effect a transfer. I think they’re desperately looking for someone to get them out of this fix.”

  Montalbano suddenly got an idea so outlandish that he gave a start in his chair.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Roberta Rollo.

  “I think they’ve already found their man.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Mimì Augello. He’s my second-in-command.”

  The young woman seemed completely bewildered.

  “He managed to infiltrate their group? How did he do that?”

  “He has . . . let’s just say he’s endowed with . . . well, he has some extraordinary qualities.”

  “In what sense?”

  Montalbano preferred to change the subject.

  “First explain to me what you want to do.”

  “Fine, but then you must bring me up to date on your investigation.”

  “All right.”

  “What I want to do is rather simple: I’ve already managed to get search warrants for both boats. I’ve already spoken to the local commander of the Customs Police, and if they find diamonds, they’ll arrest them all, with your help. And this has to be done by this evening. Otherwise we risk having them leave the port tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

  “There is one problem,” said Montalbano. “What if the people on the Ace of Hearts notice too much activity on the wharf, get suspicious, and head out to sea? That boat’s got some powerful engines, and it’s unlikely one of our boats could keep up with it.”

  “You’re right. What do you suggest?”

  “That we make it impossible for them to leave the port.”

  “How?”

  “We put two of the Harbor Office’s motor patrols at the mouth of the port. They’re armed and wouldn’t have any problem blocking the cruiser’s path.”

  “Will you see to that, or should I?”

  “I think it’s better for you to go and make the arrangements with the Harbor Office. You have more authority.”

  “All right. Now tell me about your second-in-command.”

  “He succeeded in infiltrating the Vanna with the help of someone from the Harbor Office, Lieutenant Belladonna, who introduced him to the Vanna as a representative of the wholesaler that furnishes the fuel.”

  Roberta Rollo screwed up her face.

  “Sounds a little flimsy to me.”

  “Wait. The excuse was that the fuel they’d bought to restock was defective and contained sediment that could damage the engines. And so my man took samples from their tanks for examination. And in the meantime he’s made friends with La Giovannini.”

  “What kind of friends?”

  “Intimate. And he’s led her to believe that he’s the kind of person who’s willing to do anything to make money. Giovannini has asked him to work for her.”

  “Where?”

  “First in South Africa, and then in Sierra Leone.”

  “Sierra Leone has been and continues to be a nerve center of the illegal diamond trade. And what did your man do?”

  “He accepted.”

  “And is he going to leave with them?!” the young woman asked, alarmed.

  “He wouldn’t dream of it! This afternoon, at five, he has one last meeting with Giovannini and Sperlì, during which he’s going to try to extract as much information as possible.”

  The girl sat silent for a moment, then said:

  “Maybe it’s better to wait and hear what he has to say, before taking action.”

  “I agree.”

  “And how’s your man going to get out of there?”

  “He’s going to get arrested. By me. The way Shaikiri did for you.”

  Roberta Rollo started laughing.

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  She stood up.

  “All right, then we’ll meet back up here around four,” she continued. “I’m going to go first to the Harbor Office and talk with the commander, and then back to the Customs Police to work out a few details.”

  Montalbano envied her eyes, which would get to see Laura.

  Once she had left, he called Fazio.

  “Have a seat.”

  Then he noticed that Fazio was wearing a face fit for the Day of the Dead.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “When you said we might have to arrest Inspector Augello, were you joking?”

  “No.”

  “Why, then? What’s he done? Look, it’s not as if Augello and I are all that fond of each other, but I don’t think he’s the kind of person who—”

  “We have to arrest him for his own good.”

  Fazio threw up his hands, resigned.

  “Where?”

  “At the port. And you have to make as much noise as possible.”

  “But can’t you arrest him yourself? Here at the station? Without creating a sensation? Whatever he may have done, the man doesn’t deserve—”

  “If you would just let me speak, I’ll tell you why and how we have to arrest him.”

  Mimì Augello came back out onto the deck of the Vanna just after six o’clock, accompanied by Captain Sperlì. Mimì descended the gangway; the captain remained on board.

  The moment he set foot on the wharf, Mimì pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nos
e. Then he started walking towards his car.

  He’d taken barely three steps when a police car, siren blaring, cut off his path with tires screeching loudly. In a flash he sprang forward, circled round the car, and started running madly towards the northern entrance of the port.

  Meanwhile Fazio and Gallo got out of the car, pistols in hand, and started giving chase.

  “Stop! Police!” Fazio cried at a certain point.

  And since Mimì kept on running without paying any notice, Fazio fired a shot in the air. Mimì continued running.

  At this point, as soon as Mimì came within range, the Customs policeman standing guard at the northern entrance pointed his carbine at him.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” the man shouted.

  Augello got scared.

  For all he knew, the guy might very well shoot in earnest, unaware that the whole thing was staged. Mimì suddenly stopped and put up his hands.

  “Couldn’t you have run a little less fast, Inspector?” a panting Fazio asked as he slapped the handcuffs on him.

  Flanked by Fazio and Gallo, Augello retraced his steps back to the police car. The entire crew of the Ace of Hearts, having heard the shot and the shouting, were now out on the deck, watching him walk past. On the Vanna, there were instead only two spectators: Giovannini and Sperlì. But they were enough.

  “Matre santa!” Mimì said, out of breath, to Montalbano, who had stayed in the car. “That Customs cop scared the life out of me!”

  Back at the office, Inspector Rollo was already waiting for them. Montalbano introduced her to Augello and Fazio and explained who she was.

  Mimì then turned to Montalbano.

  “But, earlier today, did you come aboard the Vanna?”

  “Yes. I wanted to make them a little nervous, so that when you arrived around five, they—”

  “Well, you certainly succeeded! Talk about nervous! Livia . . .”

  It had slipped out. He stopped in midsentence, blushed, and looked at Roberta Rollo, who smiled amicably.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Montalbano.

  “At a certain point, La Giovannini told Sperlì she was positive you’d figured everything out and that they mustn’t allow you any time to act. But what did you say to him?”

  “I didn’t say anything. I just let him notice, as if by chance, that I had some printouts on the Kimberley Process, which you’d mentioned to me, in my pocket. And so it must have looked to them as if I knew more about it than I actually do . . . But tell me what happened.”

  “Well, as soon as I got there, La Giovannini was already very upset and told me she had changed her mind.”

  “They’d decided not to take you on?”

  “No, they’d changed my function, but only temporarily.”

  “In what sense?”

  “I was to carry a suitcase to Paris, taking an itinerary that they were going to explain to me tonight, shortly before they left. They plan to set sail at dawn. Then, after turning over the suitcase, I was to take a flight to Sierra Leone.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I said okay.”

  “What excuse did you use for leaving the ship?”

  “I said I had to go to the police station to get my passport before the office closed at six.”

  “Did they specify whether the suitcase was actually a suitcase and not an overnight bag?” Roberta Rollo asked.

  “Yes. It was a rather large and heavy suitcase whose contents I was supposed to transfer later to two smaller suitcases.”

  Inspector Rollo whistled through clenched teeth.

  “Apparently they put all the diamonds that were on both boats into a single suitcase. And they were going to have Inspector Augello do what Lannec was supposed to have done. That much is clear. However . . . They were entrusting him with a cargo of immense value . . . a suitcase full of uncut diamonds . . . with no guarantee. Seems strange to me.”

  “Just a minute,” said Mimì. “Giovannini told me I was going to leave for Paris late tomorrow morning. A car would come and pick me up, with another person besides the driver.”

  “So you were going to go all the way to Paris by car?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, to conclude,” said Inspector Rollo, “we know for certain that the diamonds are still on board. We must take immediate action.”

  She looked at her watch. It was quarter to seven.

  “Now let me tell you what we’re going to do.”

  18

  At eight o’clock sharp, when there was still sufficient light, a Harbor Office car was going to stop in front of the Ace of Hearts’ gangway, and an officer, using some pretext or other, would go aboard to see how many crew members were present and then relay this information to Inspector Rollo via his cell phone.

  Rollo, meanwhile, would direct the operation from a car parked on the wharf, far enough not to be seen but close enough so she could see everything. The information the officer was to give her would be very important, because the crew of the Ace of Hearts had already killed at least two people and were criminals capable of anything. There was no need to do the same with the Vanna, since there were only three people implicated in the illegal traffic: Giovannini, Captain Sperlì, and old Alvarez.

  Rollo, in turn, would then communicate the number of people on board to Montalbano, who would be in the first of the two Vigàta police cars, driven by Gallo. The first as well as the second car—the latter directed by Fazio—would each have four policemen inside.

  The two cars were then supposed to drive into the port through the north entrance at high speed but without sirens. The first would pull up in front of the Ace of Hearts, the second in front of the Vanna. The men would then pour out of the cars, weapons in hand, climb onto the boats in every way possible, like pirates, and take control of the two craft.

  The greater the element of surprise, the better.

  The more difficult task would fall to the first car, since they would have to deal with the crew of the cruiser and would likely encounter some resistance.

  Once everyone on board the two boats was immobilized, Inspector Rollo would call the Customs Police, who would already be waiting at the north entrance, and tell them to search for the large suitcase with the uncut diamonds.

  Not knowing how things would really play out, however, Montalbano had arranged for Mimì Augello to go with two men to all the bars and taverns in Vigàta and arrest any sailor from the Vanna or Ace of Hearts that they encountered. All of them, even those who Inspector Rollo said had nothing to do with the plot. It was best to play it safe.

  On paper, everything looked as if it should work out to perfection.

  But with each minute that passed and brought him closer to the start of things, Montalbano felt a great sense of agitation growing inside him. And, without knowing why, he fidgeted and fretted inside the car, huffing as if he couldn’t breathe.

  There were four of them: Gallo beside him, and in back, Galluzzo and Martorana, an alert young officer. The inspector had his pistol in his pocket, while the other three were armed with machine guns. Gallo kept the engine idling, ready to break into a Formula One dash.

  Montalbano opened the car door.

  “What, you want to get out?” a flummoxed Gallo asked him.

  “No. I just want to smoke a cigarette.”

  “Then it’d be better if you shut the door and opened the window. If I have to suddenly take off . . .”

  “Okay, okay,” the inspector said, forgoing the cigarette.

  At that moment his cell phone rang.

  “Lieutenant Belladonna has just now gone aboard the Ace of Hearts,” Roberta Rollo told him.

  Laura! Matre santa, it had never occurred to him they would stick her in the middle of this!

  Why her, of all people?

  “What did she say?” Gallo asked.

  And what if those thugs reacted violently? What if they hurt her? What if—

  “What did she say?” Gallo persisted.


  “She said . . . La . . . La . . . she said Lalala . . . has boarded. What the fuck! What a stupid fucking idea!”

  The inspector seemed so enraged that Gallo decided to let it drop, not daring to ask any more questions.

  How on earth could they send a girl like Laura to carry out so dangerous an assignment? Were they crazy?

  The cell phone rang again.

  “There are five on board, two at the engines, and three on deck, but the lieutenant—”

  Montalbano didn’t wait to hear any more.

  “Go!” he shouted.

  He yelled it so loudly that his voice made his own ears ring along with those of the other three in the car. As Gallo shot off like a rocket, he looked in the mirror: Fazio’s car was right behind, practically stuck to his bumper.

  Inspector Rollo had calculated that they would need less than four minutes to get from the north entrance to the Ace of Hearts, but Gallo had laughed at this, saying he could get there in less than half the time. But Rollo had also decided that, to avoid arousing suspicion, the normal traffic in the port should be allowed to continue.

  As a result, no sooner did Montalbano’s car fly out from the alleyway in which it was hidden and come to the north entrance, than it found its path blocked by a tractor-trailer.

  The driver was out of the cab, showing his card to the Customs guard.

  Montalbano was blind with terror and rage.

  In the twinkling of an eye, and cursing all the while, he opened the car door, jumped out, and, taking the pedestrian crossing, started running towards the Ace of Hearts.

  And at once he saw, in the distance, something he wished he hadn’t seen.

  One of the cruiser’s sailors had just lifted the mooring cable from the bollard and was climbing back on board. And was the dull, incessant thumping he heard his own blood or was it the rumble of the Ace of Hearts’ powerful engines?

  He sped up as much as he could, feeling a sharp pain in his side.

  Without knowing how he got there, he found himself at the top of the gangway that had been left attached to the wharf, with the deck of the cruiser at the same level as him but already a good two feet away. They were escaping.