'You're all wondering what I'm doing here/ he declared when Caputo presented himself in his office.

'That's none of our business/ was the unyielding reply.

'I'm going to tell you anyway." said Zen. 'Sit down.'

"I prefer to stand.'

"I don't give a damn what you prefer. I'm ordering you to sit down.'

Caputo obeyed stiffly.

'The answer to the question I just raised is very simple/ Zen went on. 'I requested a transfer.'

For all the effect of these words on Caputo, Zen might just as well not have spoken.

'You don't believe me/ Zen remarked.

'It's none of our business/ repeated Caputo stolidly.

'And it's easy to see why you don't/ continued Zen.

'Why should anyone request a transfer from the capital to a posting in a provincial city where he has no family, no friends and doesn't speak the dialect? And not even to the main Questura but to a dead-end job with the port detail?'

Caputo looked Zen in the eye for the first time, but still offered no comment. Zen took out his pack of Nazionali and offered one to his subordinate, who shook his head.

'The answer to this question is not so simple/ Zen said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. 'To use a classical allusion, I had to choose between Scylla and Charybdis. I had made enemies at the ministry, powerful enemies. I knew that they would not let me continue in my previous job, and I suspected that they might attempt to send me to a punishment posting. My only hope was to anticipate them by applying for such a move myself. I took a look at the positions vacant and chose this one. I'm the correct rank to command this detachment, and since it effectively constitutes a massive demotion from my former position with Criminalpol, my enemies could not intervene without revealing their hand. I had accepted defeat, but on my terms, not theirs.'