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

"'Your husband was warned that he would be killed?' the
reporter interrupted eagerly.
Signora Bertolini made a gesture of qualification.
'Not in so many words, no. But there were tokens,
signs, strange disturbing things. For example an envelop
pushed through our letter-box with nothing inside but a lot
of tiny little metal balls, like caviare, only hard. And the:!
Giulio's wallet was stolen, and later we found it in the living
room, the papers and money all scattered about the floor.
But when we informed the public prosecutor he said ther -
were no grounds for giving my husband an armed guard.
And just a few days later he was gunned down, a helpless
victim, betrayed by the very people who should...'
Zen glanced at his mother. So far neither of them had
referred to the mysterious metallic scraping which had
disturbed her the previous night, and which he had
explained away as a rat in the skirting. He hoped Signora
Bertolini's words did not make her think of another possible
explanation which had occurred to him: that someone had
been trying to break into the flat.
'Don't you like your soup?' he remarked to his mother,
who was moodily pushing the vegetables and pasta aroun.3
in her plate.
'What?'
'YOUR SOUP! AREN'T YOU GOING TO EAT IT?'
'It's got turnip in.'
'What's wrong with that?'
'Turnips are for cattle, not people,' his mother declare~'.
her deafness miraculously improved.
'You ate them last time.'
'What?'
Zen took a deep breath.
'PUT THEM TO ONE SIDE AND EAT THE REST!' he
yelled, repeating word for word the formula she had on;e
used with him.
'I'm not hungry,' his mother retorted sulkily.
'That won't stop you eating half a box of chocolates whilc
you watch TV.'
'What?'
'NOTHING.'
Zen pushed his plate away and lit a cigarette. From the
television set, Signora Bertolini continued her confused
and vapid accusations. Although he naturally sympath-
ized with her, Zen also felt a sense of revulsion. It was
hecoming too convenient to blame the authorities for
everything that happened. Soon the relatives of motorists
killed on the motorway would appear on television
claiming that their deaths were due not to the fact that
they had been doing zoo kilometres an hour on the hard
shoulder in the middle of a contraflow system, but to the