Brother Eduardo's Mortal Crime: The Santore Story II

By Rudy Leeman

From the discovery of mutilated children’s bodies in a farmer’s field to chasing smugglers in the Crimean War arena, Inspector Eduardo and his partner, Rai, face terror in a race to save stolen children delivered to Italy and their capital of Florence. They save some and lose others to vicious smugglers whose only goal is to pocket m

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Vine Press
• Release date: Nov 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781951886967

Rudy Leeman

Rudy Leeman, retired public education teacher and Lutheran clergyman, began writing historical novels. His earlier Tate Publishing release, For Everything a Season, covers eight generations of a family of strong men and stronger women suffering torture, imprisonment, and death. His Santore Story trilogy is a spin-off of one his characters in Season, set in explosive nineteenth-century Italy. He completed it after moving with his wife, Carol, from California to their new home in Georgetown, Texas.

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 by Rudy Leeman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Printed in the United States of America.

Book Vine Press

2516 Highland Dr.

Palatine, IL 60067

Acknowledgments

Thanks to:

As in the past, my severest critic and initial editor of my work is my dear wife, Carol. She took my wildest ideas and had me put them into print suitable for human consumption.

The books were passed on to Jo Rodefer and Jim Lee for further examination and refinement. I deeply appreciate their evaluations.

And to my editor, Christine, thank you.

EDUARDO’S MORTAL CRIME

Contents

Preface

Introduction

Maps

Chapter 1: Speaking with Tongues

Chapter 2: But Knew I All Things

Chapter 3: To Move this Mountain

Chapter 4: Had I Loved Enough

Chapter 5: The Generous Heart

Chapter 6: Overpower Evil with Good

Chapter 7: Persevering Love

Chapter 8: I Know Only in Part

Chapter 9: Reflections Face-to-Face

Chapter 10: And the Greatest Gift

Preface

In the second sequel of Brother Eduardo’s Mortal Sin, Eduardo is confronted with the grotesque horror of war in the midst of attempting to put down a most heinous crime: Smuggling of human cargo , specifically children, for slavery. For whatever venue and cause, people are stolen from both their homes and their lives. Such horror needs the strongest response. Human trafficking is one of the three greatest evils in the world. Only one force can halt its continuing practice—the application of love toward the victims and loving justice for those who oppress their fellow man. It reflects a lesson Brother Eduardo learned about life from St. Paul:

Here is my translation of 1 Corinthians 13:

Were I to learn all the languages of man, or were I able to express the most literate certainties of this universe to all, but did so without love, I am merely the music of senseless noise.

I might imagine myself filled with all wisdom and knowledge. I proclaim as fact what is yet to be. If I, myself alone, changed all things or moved mountains with nothing more than trust in myself and confidence at my hand, but do so without love, I achieve nothing.

If I were to exhibit generosity that gives all I possess to those who lack and endure labor that causes me suffering and men to honor my feats, but do so without love, my honor and service is worthless.

Love shows patience. Love expresses kindness. Love wishes not for what others possess, neither boasts about what others admire of me nor walks in self-indulgent righteousness.

Love honors the neighbor and seeks no glory for the self. Love builds anger slowly and instantly forgets the past.

Love takes no joy in good gained through evil.

Love finds the good through truth.

Love protects, trusts, hopes, and never quits. Therein is the certainty—love never fails.

Our wisdom, our languages, our certainties, our highest knowledge is nothing, an utter failure in the channel of time. It all changes. It all makes nothing of the confidence our life declares. I can never know it all, until the moment after death.

Unlike now, as I simply look at this life, the clouded mirror of my mind, the glass becomes after death an unclouded window through which I will see my Creator. Through that window, I learn the true meaning of my life.

Until then, I possess what I actually need for this life, three gifts God offers me—faith, hope, and love.

The greatest gift, of course—love.

Introduction

As if life isn’t difficult enough trying to overcome local evil with good, there has to be a mix of international good and evil. In the latter case, both sides claim to be the good and the godly, and their opponents to be wards of the devil. This mix is found in our second Santore novel set in mid- nineteenth century Italy.

The years are 1852 through 1857. Rebellions and calls for a unified Italy grow strong while alliances are subject to sarcasm and disbelief; motives are not that easily hidden. In the midst of the struggle for nationhood on the peninsula we know as Italy, international wills interfere and cause delay through civil unrest. It is the Italian’s one passionate desire: to become a unified country.

France, England, and other western nations have united to wage international havoc on Russia and various countries of the Ottoman Empire. What, may I suggest, expresses the nature of the Crimean War?

One, it is a religious war. Which war isn’t? Philosophies cause a clash of wills; it has to do with fundamental self- determination and how the world is to understand each warring nation’s posture—our good against their evil.

In this case, it’s a matter of who controls the Christian church’s population in Constantinople (now Istanbul), Russia or the Papacy.

Two, this is the first conflict we have come to call modern warfare. The massive movement of men and material by the recent evolution of rail and steam driven ships and new technologies as the telegraph, all have deified the cause of war. If one side possesses the better technology and logistics of tools, weapons and strategy, then their victory enforces their perception of the good: God is most certainly on their side.

Three, the treatment of casualties because of technology becomes a major issue as an overwhelming field of bodies slows the battle; thousands of wounded in the battlefield risk death due to lack of care. Our American Civil War, four years later, brings the gruesome nature of the question of rescuing wounded and burying the dead to the forefront of modern warfare.

Four, the sheer volume of persons involved in military action clogs battlefields and prevents acquisition of position and advantage. Victory is defined as winning a battle, not advancing the end of the war (the purer object of conflict). The American Civil War echoed the nature of modern warfare illustrated in the Crimea; we’re shocked by what we wrought.

Five, how does each side cope with prisoners who are defined by thousands instead of dozens? How to incarcerate, feed, and care for the captured enemy? What constitutes humane treatment so that the good side does not appear evil? The question of political survival of winners must match a moral good in viewing how the war was waged.

Into this maelstrom enters Eduardo Santore. What he sees mirrors any isolated person trapped in war or forced to flee to preserve life. How do we rescue and redeem children? How can we explain the family destroyed leaving but a sole-surviving child—to the child?

How is life restored at all, to families caught in a war of wills? It’s to ponder that when war is waged, the innocent suffer the more grievous harm. They are left alone in a world that preaches brotherhood while slaughtering one’s fellow man. Is it to be believed, those who propose war know better? Is it not the onset of the greatest evil to cause such a horror to occur?

Or have men turned a deaf ear to the still, small voice within, the conscience now made mute? Eduardo faces such a challenge, the matter of conscience amidst mass carnage, and more to the issue he faces, the theft of children—all of which is addressed. The innocent victims provide him the best clue to the survival of child victims and a confirmation of conscience.

Man has created a riddle. In the world we inhabit, nothing changes. Yet, within that riddle exists an enigma—the other truth: everything changes.

1

Speaking with Tongues

January 2, 1854

Countryside, East of Firenze

Exactly 1:44 am

Light from the waning moon slides softly over the shiny metal braces on the wagon. The wheels move ever so slowly through the rough, plowed ground off the main road. The cloaked driver finally pulls the reins, and the horses stop. He locks the brake bar.

Standing, he looks around at the rolling but unpeopled landscape. Satisfied, he moves into the bed of the wagon toward the rear. He kneels, leans over with a series of grunts, and releases the hinges that hold the rear gate in place. He lowers it as quietly as he can manage. Backing up a bit, he kneels behind the rolled blanket, grips the edge, and lifts it sharply.

The blanket unrolls quickly. Two small bodies spin easily off the back of the wagon and sink onto the soft earth with a sigh.

Looking around him again, he raises and secures the rear gate, tosses the blanket to the front of the wagon bed, and returns to the seat. He leaves in haste as quietly as possible.

He disappears eastward.

Firenze Morgue, South of the City

Exactly 2:44 pm, two days later

Dr. Zifferelli, Examiner

They were found in the field near Compiabbi, just east of Florence. The farmer was seeding his freshly plowed field, saw the wagon tracks, and followed them to where the children were found. I’m so sorry you have to see this, Inspector Santore. It is a horror I have not ever seen in my entire career as an examiner.

He rolled back the sheet covering the two small bodies on the table. Eduardo grimaced as he squinted in an effort to keep the ugliness before him as far as possible from vision and mind. He realized after a minute he’d sucked in the air but not let it out. His blurry sight was the clue he needed to remind him to breathe again.

Oh, God, he muttered. What happened here?

It was all he could say and still keep from leaving his lunch on the floor, and run screaming from the room. He turned and moved over to a chair, dropped onto it, and took out his notepaper and pencil to busy himself with writing.

He didn’t know if it would be possible for him to record what he had just seen.

The examiner pulled the sheet over the tiny figures. Let’s move to my office, Inspector. We can talk better there. He led Eduardo down the hall to an office. They entered, and the inspector immediately sat down.

Taking his seat behind the desk, the examiner looked at young Santore, and then offered him a dram of brandy.

This helps me when I become overburdened with my work, Inspector. It doesn’t happen much anymore, but this has me into my fourth glass today. Thank God I’m finished with the examination. Most of the written report is done but requires finishing for accuracy. I’ll keep it as brief and unsettling as possible.

Eduardo nodded and set his notepaper on the opposite side of the desk, dreading what he was about to hear. He took a long sip of brandy that he hoped would sustain him. We can conclude, Dr. Zifferelli began,"that these two girls died as a result of loss of blood from trauma. It appears they were ravaged until their insides were torn. It had to have continued to their deaths during the ravaging because there was so much damage.

"I found marks, bruises around their necks, and tearing of skin on the back of one, indicating she was first beaten. I suspect the other submitted in fear of the kind of beating the other had endured. From other evidence, I conclude the perpetrator of such a heinous act had taken gross pleasure inflicting the pain, suffering and deaths.

"Whether there were more than one involved here I cannot affirm. All the marks are consistent with what one person would have administered.

"The other conclusion is that these children did not come from this area. Their bone structure, skin, and hair suggest a more eastern heritage. The fair skin and silken hair are more likely found far north and east of our territories, perhaps Ukraine. It was the first thing I noticed about them as well as their apparent comeliness.

You have all the information I have. The written report won’t reveal more but is not advisable for anyone to read. Silence.

Thank you, sir, came Eduardo’s muted voice. I appreciate how clear, yet gently you shared your conclusions. I will see to the matter as intensely as I am able. Such a creature must not be allowed to maintain his breath on this planet.

With that he rose, leaned across the table, and shook the hand of Dr. Zifferelli. He left hurriedly and breathed deeply the cool air of the gathering dusk as he moved to his tethered horse.

He leaned over and retched.

Commisario Gaspari’s office

Questura: Largo Enrico Fermi, Firenze

8 am the following morning

They’re Slavic, Russian, and a mixture of ethnicities east of the Adriatic, Eduardo began his report. These children came to Italy from the arena of the Ottoman Empire. They do not speak Italian, any romance language, or northern European tongue.

They’re coming either through the northeastern Venetia corridor from Austria or from any of the numerous ports on the Eastern Adriatic. It’s a short trip across the sea to Sicily continental or any of the regions northward. There’s no reason to circle the peninsula on the south to come to Sicily island from the west.

Eduardo paused and noted Inspector Gaspari had not lost a bit of what he was presenting. The office lighting was muted because of the cloudy skies and the limited illumination from the single oil lamp on his desk. It sounded almost as if Eduardo were describing a plot for a mystery to a stage playwright who lived with the plot evolving in the mind instead of taking notes.

As a fledgling inspector trainee, the former Benedictine, Brother Eduardo Santore was being mentored by the leading investigator of crime for Florence, capital of Italy. Inspector Enrico Gaspari handed Eduardo the file two weeks earlier on children, mostly beautiful girls, turning up on the streets and in the countryside around Florence without parents; some were as old as fourteen, most, simply much younger children. They were found wandering the alleys near the brothels in the Red Zone in Florence, the official brothels of the city. Two very young ones had been found in the countryside, mutilated.

The office was attempting to keep this child smuggling under wraps, or the public would become unduly alarmed. More to the point, any investigation should never grant those committing the crimes a clue as to what was happening with any investigation. Gaspari showed some relief at hearing Eduardo’s report.

"I was concerned we only had a local killer on our hands in the case of the two violated girls found in the countryside. Now, based on your report, I think differently.

"That’s not to say I’m pleased. However, your analysis seems rational. It fits the rumors. There’s a group of smugglers out there bringing in children and young women for the perverse pleasure of some and subjects of servitude for others. Who the local sellers of these children are, to me, is a very well-kept secret.

Santore, how do you see this playing out? The commasario was always digging for deeper thoughts and mental magic from his prized inspector trainee, one he could picture taking his place eventually.

Sir, responded Eduardo, "It’s a copy of the way the Romans took people from foreign lands in war and made household slaves of them. I read some killed certain children after they were done with them. Those in the craft trades who need workers would lose income if they treated their workers as they would treat household slaves.

"It’s the dawn of the Industrial Age all over the world.

Lots of people are needed to ‘thread needles and tread pedals’, so to speak. My theory is simple:

"I picture a closely-knit local smuggling group. They garner their supply of children through a supplier. Only a marginal risk exists that way for the ring. There was a careless disposal of children recently, and they exposed themselves. The loose victims are no help to us as they live in fear and can’t point us to any person or place. They’re also lacking in any skills in western languages."

A nod from Gaspari’s head, and a finger raised slightly suggested Eduardo to continue.

Eduardo sighed, viewed his notes and found the place where he left off.

"Umm. I discovered from police records that a few lost souls show up on a regular basis. It’s not unusual, as you know, for people to die or have accidents. Those who have no kin end up at the morgue and burial place for the poor. However, these survivors are all foreign children.

"I checked our records to three years prior to these children showing up in the Florence area countryside. There’s been what I call an average number of transients and those of unknown fatalities. Only, if you want to rejoice over a low figure, only these two violated corpses found in the three years I reviewed do not blend into the mix.

I don’t necessarily associate the death of the two children with the import traffic. I’m still working on that. I have no way of gaining more information about them than showed up in the morgue report I received. Back to the summary.

Eduardo held up a hand with his index finger raised and continued. First, this has been a growing business; the number of children and older girls found is rising. The rate is not level, it rises slightly each month.

Holding up his middle finger to join his index digit, he added, "Also, the average age is dropping. It may mean an earlier forced acclimation to the life they are now forced to accept as their fate. It may mean something else. From what I’ve seen in the Red Zone, I’m too biased at this point to make a clear evaluation here.

"I drew two conclusions.

"The first, there’s a highly efficient and organized gang of traffickers operating out of the Ottoman Empire countries as well as possibly western Russia. They’re moving children to secret drop-off points on the Eastern coast of mainland Sicily and through the Papal States as far as Venetia.

"I don’t picture more than one major gang doing this. It’s too profitable that seems to me to create wars between gangs. So I believe it is a major player, perhaps La Cosa Nostra. I checked the newspapers and found nothing of note in the arena of gang warfare.

"The second, for there to be so many, I’ll call them extra children, points to an organized local group receiving and distributing human cargo to the clients. Changes in demand make for miscounting. It’s orderly and in volume to satisfy demand. Sometimes supply outstrips demand in a given month."

He set his report on the desk and stood, waiting for a response to this horrendous activity taking place in their beautiful Firenze, their capital of Italy and Tuscan State.

Commasario Gaspari rose slowly from his desk. His bones could be heard arguing with him about having to move. He turned towards the window and raised his head as he looked outside at the swirling clouds in the sky that mirrored his feelings.

He remained silent for a time, cleared his throat, and then posed his last question at his brilliant student:

"I want to apologize to you. For your first case, I assigned to you what I thought were typical runaways from homes or those left destitute by families who could no longer raise or support their children. I wanted you to discover the shallow level of behavior we find among many people about their children—marry them off soon, kick them out of the house at an early age, or assign them to servitude among the more affluent in Florence and surrounding areas.

"Our current military sword waving between Russia and the French-English-Sardinian alliance seems to be expanding. It makes a great field day for smugglers. Even nations north and east of us can’t seem to decide on which side they’ll align themselves when the Eastern Question becomes a debate of cannons.

"You may have opened a new compartment of Pandora’s box, Eduardo. Your analysis of just who are these children on the streets suggests your direction of thought is good.

The word I get from my contacts indicates the children we find to be very attractive, and almost all girls. That leads me to suspect there’s a major export of children from a Russian territory such as the Ukraine. I know Turks import slaves from The African Continent for all kinds of servitude. Are any of the children of dark skin?

Eduardo shook his head. They’re pale skinned, and very beautiful children; it also leads me to think they’re from the Ukraine.

Hmm, Enrico murmured as he remained facing the window. He pondered the clouds now moving more swiftly through a violent and depressing sky. Finally he spoke: "Now, here’s my last question:

"Tell me, Inspector Santore, just how does one destroy this multi-headed evil that’s invaded our sacred soil?" He waited silently for the answer, looking at the gray clouds that matched his depressed spirit.

Santore pulled an additional sheet from his right hand coat pocket. He slowly unfolded it, then cleared his throat and began speaking. "I believe we can only move ahead against both at the same time: Both one international and one local crime group are the apparent link of children being smuggled in, at least to this area.

I believe we need to use our informants to help find the gang at this end and not make any moves on it at the moment. It’s tragic but necessary if the international pipeline is to be destroyed as well.

"Someone has to go underground on the far end as well. It means going to the Ottoman Empire to locate the source of child stealing and identify the gang. Constantinople is the key port area to the west; it’s a place to start.

"Local governments can aid us. Our underground man would first need to discover their route and trace them back to the eastern Adriatic coast. Knowing their shipping route will help identify where the human cargo is being off-loaded in Italia.

"That leads to those who receive the cargoes, following the children to where they are taken for local distribution gives us a hook into local gangs. My guess is several major cities such as Florence are targets of the smugglers. That one pipeline from the east may well be all we need to plug so we can put an end to human trafficking in Italia.

"I believe that, if we go after the local gang too soon, we may only destroy one pipeline, but leave the system intact on both ends in other cities; certainly locals can build a new pipeline to the supplier. I think the supplier would try new routes as well.

"The path of investigation I suggest could cause both sides to collapse in one effort."

Eduardo was tense. He defined the problem of the first case assigned him, selected a theory and plotted a course for the solution of this human smuggling system.

To destroy this import and distribution of humans would be their contribution to saving some children exposed to this accursed practice among men of evil will and unbridled greed. Those lusting after small children would suffer most at the collapse.

Silence lingered in the room. The wisp of smoke curling from the lantern was the only movement of significance.

Commasario Gaspari turned away from the window with a sigh and looked at his fledgling inspector, to him a veritable image of himself. He nodded and sat down. His bones sounded their approval of his move. He began licking his lips. He spoke:

"I know where to leak the information on the victims here. I’ve used the trusted source numerous times when I needed the word spread quickly and anonymously. Also, to keep this child smuggling away from the public, I refer to it as smuggling of adults being brought in.