Suffer the Little Children Read Online Free

caused. He had seen hardened criminals whose bowels had loosened at the sound and sight of armed men bursting in upon them: imagine the reaction of a doctor, illegally adopted baby or no. And the Carabinieri – Brunetti had encountered too many of them who loved bursting in and imposing their sudden, terrifying authority, as if Mussolini were still in power and no one to say them nay.
    At the top of the Rialto, he was too preoccupied with these thoughts to think of looking to either side but hurried down the bridge and into Calle de la Bissa. Why should they need five men and how would they get there? Surely they’d need a boat, and by whose authority were they carrying out an action like this in the city? Who had been informed, and if official notice had been given, why had nothing been said to him about it?
    The
portiere
seemed to be asleep behind the window of his office: certainly he did not look up as Brunetti entered the hospital. Blind to the magnificence of the entrance hall though awareof the sudden drop in temperature, Brunetti worked his way right and left and then left again until he arrived at the automatic doors of the emergency room. They slid aside to let him enter. Inside the second set of doors, he pulled out his warrant card and approached the white-jacketed attendant behind the glass partition.
    The man, fat and jolly-faced and far more cheerful than either the time or the circumstances warranted, glanced at Brunetti’s card, smiled at him and said, ‘Down to the left, Signore. Second door on the right. He’s in there.’
    Brunetti thanked him and followed the directions. At the door, he knocked once and went in. Though Brunetti did not recognize the man in battle fatigues who lay on the examining table, he recognized the uniform of the man standing at the window. A woman in a white lab coat sat beside the man on the table, smoothing a strip of plastic tape across his nose. As Brunetti watched, she cut a second strip and placed it parallel to the other. They anchored a thick cotton bandage to the man’s nose; both nostrils were plugged with cotton. Brunetti noticed that there were already dark circles under his eyes.
    The second man leaned comfortably against the wall, arms and legs crossed, observing. He wore the three stars of a captain and a pair of high black leather boots more appropriate for riding dressage than a Ducati.
    â€˜Good morning, Dottoressa,’ Brunetti saidwhen the woman looked up. ‘I’m Commissario Guido Brunetti, and I’d be very grateful if you could tell me what’s going on.’
    Brunetti expected the Captain to interrupt him here, but was both surprised and disappointed by the man’s continued silence. The doctor turned back to her patient, pressing the ends of the tape a few times until they were secure on the man’s face. ‘Keep this in place for at least two days. The cartilage has been pushed to one side, but it should reattach itself without any trouble. Just be careful with it. Take the cotton out tonight before you go to bed. If the bandage comes loose, or if it starts to bleed again, see a doctor or come back in here. All right?’
    â€˜
Sì
,’ the man agreed with rather more sibilance than might have been heard in his normal voice.
    The doctor extended a hand, and the man took it. She held him steady as he lowered his feet to the ground and stood, his other hand propped on the examining table. He needed a moment to steady himself. The doctor crouched down and looked upwards, at the cotton wadding in the man’s nose, but evidently it did not trouble her, so she stood up and stepped back. ‘Even if nothing happens, come back in three days, all right, and I’ll take another look.’ The man gave a very cautious nod, and looked as if he wanted to say something, but she cut him off and added, ‘And don’t worry. It should be fine.’
    The man glanced at the Captain, then turnedback