“The ringleaders. One is Enrico Carini, a.k.a. Erik the Red. The second is Oluwafeme Chiama, a Nigerian former amateur boxer, and the third is Agostino Lumi, a.k.a. the Professor. They started the brawl. The real victims were Omar Ben Taleb and his cousin Aziz. Tarek Essebsy and Karim Lakal got off easy.”

“Motive?”

“There’s not much to it . . .” Marini started out. “I’ve been working in the prison system for twenty-five years now, Dottore, and riots and brawls are always about the same things. Money, narcotics, cigarettes, or when someone fails to show proper respect for their betters. Inside here, there’s a whole other world, you know? And people will kill to make sure they’re respected. There’s a hierarchy of power, and the Professor with his two underlings are very high in the pecking order. Obviously, Omar failed to live up to some understanding. Or else, just as likely, he owed them money.”

Baldi ended the conversation. “For now, you’re free to go. Thanks.” The two guards stood up and left the warden’s office.

“Can I talk to the guy in solitary confinement?” the judge asked, looking at Martinelli.

“With all three of them?” Martinelli asked.

“Only with the boss. This Agostino Lumi.”

“I suggest you take a look at my files. That might give you a sense of just what sort of person we’re talking about.” And he pointed to an old metal filing cabinet that had a letter of the alphabet for every drawer. Baldi gestured to Pietra, who immediately riffled through the folders for the letter L. The judge stood pensively gazing at the usual photo of the president of the Italian republic, the crucifix, the flag, and the small Ikea bookshelf with dozens of books packed together in no particular order. “Here you are. Agostino Lumi.” The chief of the Turin mobile squad handed the binder to Baldi, who proceeded to open it.

“All right, let’s have a look.”

Agostino Lumi was a criminal who could fairly claim title to the term. Born in Varese in 1968, he had committed a dozen or so armed robberies, been involved in three shoot-outs with the Carabinieri, been charged with a double homicide for rubbing out a couple of the men in his gang, as well as an attempted murder, and then, along with those, assorted crimes such as theft and fraud, which netted him various sentences in his thirty-eight years of criminal endeavors and now added up to two separate life sentences without possibility of parole. The second of the two life sentences had been handed down while he was an inmate of the Viterbo house of detention. Later transferred to Varallo for disciplinary reasons, he had clearly re-formed his little retinue of enforcers, a gang that would allow him to rule the roost within the walls of that prison, too. “Quite an estimable individual, in other words.”