The Pale Path
Salvatore Nicosi, thirty years old and a constable with twelve years of service to his credit, stood on the platform of Velluto and watched the tail lights of the evening train dissolve into the monsoon-dark. He did not go after it; his pension depended on a final arrest, a clean ledger entry that would secure his widow’s keep, and the local smuggler, a man named Enzo, was the only name left...
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