trust him!»
To my regret, after Thor, that was his name, had made himself responsible for a bad training joke against his conductor, it had been necessary to reform him. Usually, a dog is reformed at the end of his career, when he is too old to perform his duties and, in most cases, the handler, who by the time has developed a particular relationship with the dog, adopts it and keeps it close, considering that the animal has just a few years of life. If this does not happen, the reformed dog must be euthanized, because it is unthinkable for dogs trained like this to end up in the hands of untrusted people. I was aware that the end of Thor would be a lethal injection, and I could not give myself peace, but I looked at his handler, with his arm still bandaged, and I could not take responsibility for something like this happening again. Thor was soon replaced by another German Shepherd, this time chosen by me at a local farm. I raised him since he was a puppy, and I trained him up until the moment of assigning him to a conductor.
Aside from Thor’s unpleasant episode, the days went by fast. Every day the team was engaged in training for at least two or three hours, then there were the services, the drug control at the airport customs, the services during fairs and markets looking for possible pickpockets or drug dealers. Sometimes we were also called to distant places, for civil protection interventions, after earthquakes or other natural disasters, to recover any survivors from under the rubble, or to search for missing people in the mountains, not just after mudslides or avalanches, but just because maybe they got lost during an excursion. The fame of my team, over time, went beyond the Marche borders, and we were often called for services far away from our base. The team lacked a dog that could sniff a trail, follow one, and in short, help the policeman in an investigation, as well as in an action. It would arrive later, and it would have been my Furia, a Springer Spaniel, puppy of a dog of Inspector Santinelli.
The flow of my thoughts was, at that point, definitively interrupted by the braking of the plane on the runway and the consequent opening of the hold doors. A whole new chapter of my life was about to begin.
Chapter 2
I was trying to orient me in the arrivals lounge at the airport in order to understand where the conveyer belt on which my luggage would arrive was when a madman in perfect State Police summer uniform approached decisively. He was about one meter and ninety high, with a stubble haircut, blue eyes, and perfectly trimmed beard. His biceps were hardly contained by the uniform shirt’s half sleeve. He was about to make me the military salute but then rethought that and held out his hand instead.
«Doctor Ruggeri, I presume! I’m inspector Mauro Giampieri and from this moment I’ll be at your disposal. I have compulsory orders from the police commissioner, we need to get going right away to reach a crime scene. It is a crime that happened last night in Triora, a small village in Imperia’s inland. I already instructed an agent to collect your luggage and to take it to the police district. Follow me, we have no time to waste.»
I was a bit confused, and I followed him without any objection, even though I would have preferred to start everything in a different way, by taking a taxi to Imperia and settling in my new job after having at least refreshed myself in a hotel. When I saw the white and blue State Police car we were approaching in the parking lot reserved for the police, I could not help feeling a thrill: a brand new Gallardo Lamborghini. I knew about the existence of that marvelous car, that could reach 320 km per hour, equipped with an on-board computer with various functionalities, connected through a satellite system to the computer archives of the Criminalpol and Interpol, only because I’ve read something in the magazines.
«I thought this gem was reserved for the highway. Patrol,» I said, trying to break the ice with the Inspector, who kept his firm pace. As we closed to the car the hazard lights flashed, beeping.
«This car is different from the one at the disposal of the traffic police, what changes is not the model, but the equipment and performance. I’ll be able to explain some things along the way, take a seat!»
In the car, he inserted a card into a designated slot on the dashboard and entered a code on a numeric keypad. He was about to press the button to start the engine but stopped himself and started tinkering with a package.
«Your right forearm, Doctor! I’m going to insert you a microchip, containing some information about you, such as biodata, blood type, medication history, but it will also function as a satellite locator if needed. It will take a split second, and you won’t feel any pain. These are the orders, unfortunately. I’ve got one inserted too.»
His pseudo-military discipline was starting to get on my nerves and I was about to object.
«I’m not a dog that risks getting lost!»
With swift movements, he opened a sterilized bag containing a swab soaked in disinfectant, and then, from another one, he extracted an injector with a huge needle. Despite my protests, he grabbed my arm and carried out the procedure.
«Keep the pad pressed for a few moments and fasten your seat belt. We’re heading off.»
The speeding glued my back to the car seat. In just a few seconds the Lamborghini reached a speed well above the limit. He swiftly passed the toll gate and started driving at about 200 km per hour.
«You, Inspector, look a lot more like a soldier than a policeman. I do not know your CV, but I think I will study it with great attention. Anyway, since we have to work together and I’ve always hated formalities, I’d suggest getting on first name terms. I am Caterina.»
He answered, warming up a little.
«Mauro. I confess to you, Doctor...Caterina that in fact, until a few months ago, I was in the army. I followed the Italian contingent on missions abroad on various occasions and until last Christmas, I was stationed in Afghanistan. I was in Nassirya in 2003, during the massacre of the Italian soldiers, and I got out of that without a single wound. I have also been to Iraq and Bosnia and Herzegovina. I am still very used to military discipline. Anyway, I’m an expert in explosives, fights against terrorism and organized guerrilla warfare, driving in extreme conditions... I believe that the police commissioner put us in pair to solve a really rough case, which I will later explain to you. Meanwhile, I’m going to show you the features of this car, which for now has no comparison in Italy. As you can see, here in the center on the dashboard we have a twelve-inch display, which looks like a GPS navigator, but which has many other features. It is an actual PC, which in addition to having internet access via a satellite connection, allows us to consult the police databases, not only the Italian ones but those all over the world. That is a small scanner, connected to the system, in which we can insert fingerprints, taken with pieces of scotch tape, and start a search in the databases to which we are connected. To the touch screen functionality, which is very interesting for working on the main menu, we can add the functions of a standard keyboard, which we can extract from that drawer below. Open the glove compartment, you will find there a gun, which has already been assigned to you, and a PDA. Both you and I have an identical PDA, with which we can interface with the car’s on-board computer. The PDA, like the microchip that we have inserted, allows the central unit, and one of us from the car, to find our exact location with the GPS. »
«Geez, judging from everything you’re telling me, the investigation they’ve assigned us seems to be very risky. Not even the mythical 007 agent has had all this technology at his disposal!»
«And in fact, you are not wrong. Strange events have happened in Triora for several years: people disappear in mysterious circumstances, without apparently leaving any trace. So far, the police have investigated but without getting on with anything. On the main suspect, a certain Aurora Della Rosa, whom the people of the country define as a sorceress, or rather, a witch, they have never managed to gather sufficient evidence, and therefore the investigations are still groping in the dark. A fire broke out in the woods near Triora tonight, which threatened Aurora’s home. At the end of the extinguishing operations, the firefighters found the burnt corpse of a woman. I believe that the coroner and the forensic scientist are already on the scene. This time no Carabinieri nor RIS, the investigation is ours. Precisely for your studies on esotericism and on sects, Imperia’s police commissioner has requested your presence, and this crime, who knows