"Dibdin, Michael - Aurelio Zen 02 - Vendetta UC - part 04" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dibdin Michael)

access in this way.
Which left only the metallic scraping Zen's mother had
reported hearing the night before. It had come from the
other side of the room, she said, where the large
wardrobe stood. It now seemed clear that the noise had
been made by someone picking the lock of the door
leading to the fire escape, only to find that it was blocked
by the wardrobe which had been placed in front of it.
Since this attempt had failed, the intruder had returned
during Zen's absence the evening before and tried the
riskier option of picking the lock of the front door.
Almost the most disturbing thing about the incident
was what had not happened. Nothing had been stolen,
nothing had been disarranged. Apart from the envelope,
the intruder had left no sign whatever of his presence. He
had come to leave a message, and perhaps the most
important element of that message was that he had done
nothing else. As a demonstration of power, of arrogant
self-confidence, it made Zen think of the Villa Burolo
killer. 'I can come and go whenever I wish,' was the
message. 'This time I have chosen simply to deliver an
envelope. Next time... who knows?'
Determined that there should not be a next time, Zen
had made Maria Grazia swear by Santa Rita of Cascia,
whose image she wore as a lucky charm, that she would
bolt the front door after his departure and not leave the
apartment until he returned.
'But what about the shopping?' she protested.
'I'll get something from the tavola calda,' Zen snapped
impatiently. 'It's not important!'
Cowed by her employer's unaccustomed brusqueness,
Maria Grazia timidly reminded him that she would have to
leave by six o'clock at the latest in order to deal with her
own family's needs.
'I'll be back by then,' he replied. 'Just don't leave the
apartment unattended, not even for a moment. Under-
stand? Keep the door bolted and don't open it except for
me.'
As soon as he got to work, Zen called the vehicle regis-
tration department and requested details of the red Alfa
Romeo he had seen in the street the night before. It was a
long shot, but there was something about the car that
made him suspicious, although he wasn't quite clear what
it was.
The information he received was not encouraging. The
owner of the vehicle turned out to be one Rino Attilio
Lusetti, with an address in the fashionable Parioli area
north of the Villa Borghese. A phone call to the Questura
elicited the information that Lusetti had no criminal
record. By now Zen knew that this was a wild-goose