"Dibdin, Michael - Aurelio Zen 02 - Vendetta UC - part 03" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dibdin Michael)

aerials resembling the reeds which had flourished in thi~
marshy land before the developers moved in.
Some of the windows were unshuttered, and from time
to time figures appeared in these lighted panels, providing
Zen with his only glimpse so far of the inhabitants of the
zone. There was no way of knowing whether their
shadowy gestures had any relevance to his concerns or
not. He had checked the list of residents posted outside
each stairwell. The name Bevilacqua appeared opposite
flat 14, but the door to the stairs was locked and Zen
hadn't gone as far as trying to gain entry to the block. It
seemed to him that he'd gone quite far enough as it was.
Most of his afternoon had been spent trying to find a
solution to the problem of the stolen video tape. A visit to
an electronics shop had revealed the existence of com-
plexities he had never guessed at, involving choices of
type, brand and length. In the end he'd selected one
which had the practical advantage of being sold separately
rather than in packs of three. It didn't really matter, he told
himself. Either they would check or they wouldn't. If they
did, they weren't going to feel any better disposed
fpwards Zen because he had replaced the missing video
with exactly the right kind of blank tape, or even given
them a Bugs Bunny cartoon in exchange.
Back at the Ministry, he walked down two flights of
drably functional concrete stairs to the sub-basement
where the archives department was housed. As he had
foreseen, only one clerk was on duty at that time of day, so
Zen's request to inspect the files relating to one of his old
cases, selected at random, resulted in the desk being left
unmanned for over five minutes. This was quite long
enough for Zen to browse through the rubber-stamp
collection, find the one reading 'Property of the Ministry of
the Interior -- Index No....', apply this to the labels on the
face a d spine of the video cassette and then copy the
index number from the memorandum he had been sent.
When the clerk returned with the file he had asked for,
Zer spent a few minutes leafing through it for appear-
ance's sake. The case was one that dated back almost
twenty years, to the time when Zen had been attached to
the Questura in Milan. He scanned the pages with
affection and nostalgia, savouring the contrast between
the old-fashioned report forms and the keen fiourish of his
youthful handwriting. But as the details of the case began
to emerge, these innocent pleasures were overshadowed
darker memories. Why had he asked for this of all
files.
The question was also the answer, for the Spadola case
was not just another of the many investigations Zen had
been involved with in the course of his career. It had been