"Dibdin, Michael - Aurelio Zen 02 - Vendetta UC - part 05" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dibdin Michael)

engaged in a heated argument about Craxi's line on com-
batting inflation. Zen flashed his police identity card at
them and then at the woman perched on a stool at the
entrance, a two-way radio in one hand and a paperback
novel in the other. Without looking round to see if Leather
Jacket was following, he walked through the gateway and
into the Forum.
To his untutored eye, the scene before him resembled
nothing so much as a building site. AII that was missing
were the tall green cranes clustered together in groups like
extraterrestial invaders. It seemed as if this project had only
just passed the foundation level, and only then in a frag-
mentary and irregular way. Some areas were still pitted and
troughed, awaiting the installation of drainage and wiring,
while in others a few pillars and columns provided a
tantalizing hint of the building to come. Elsewhere, whole
sections of the massive brick structures -- factories? ware-
houses? -- which had formerly occupied the area had still
not been demolished completely. For the moment, work
seemed to have ground to a halt. No dump-trucks or
concrete-pourers moved along the rough track running the
length of the site. Perhaps some snag had arisen over the
financing, Zen thought whimsically. Perhaps the govern-
ment had been reshuffled yet again, and the new minister
was reluctant to authorize further expenditure on a project
which had already over-run its estimated cost by several
hundred per cent -- or was at least holding out for some
financial incentive on a scale similar to that which had
induced his predecessor to sign the contract in the first place.
A Carabinieri helicopter was thrashing about overhead
like a shark circling for the kill. Zen tossed away his
cigarette and strolled along a path in the patchy grass
between the ruins. A fine dust covered everything, beaten
into the air by passing feet from the bone-dry soil. The sun
crouched low in a cloudless sky, its weak rays absorbed and
reflected by the marble and brick on every side. Overhead
the helicopter swept past periodically, watchful, alien,
remote. Halfway up the path, which veered off to the right
and started to climb the Palatine hill, Zen paused to survey
the scene. At that time of year there were only a few tourists
about. Among them was a young man in a leather jacket
and jeans. Oddly enough, he was once again having prob-
lems with his laces.
Zen resumed his walk with a fastidious smile. If Leather
Jacket thought that bending down to tie up your shoes
made you invisible then he shouldn't prove too difficult to
unload. In fact he felt slightly piqued that such a third-rate
operator had been considered adequate for the task of
shadowing him. Evidently he couldn't even inspire respect
in his enemies.