"Dibdin, Michael - Aurelio Zen 02 - Vendetta UC - part 10" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dibdin Michael)

'Certainly I know!' he replied impatiently. The coins
were dropping through the machine with alarming fre-
quency. 'Do you think I like having to work today either?'
What do you want with my wife?'
'I am afraid that's confidential. Just let me speak to her,
please.'
'Oh no, certainly not! And don't bother ringing any
more, signore, because she isn't in! She won't be in! Nog
ever, not for you! Understand? Don't think I don't know
wpat's going on behind my back! You think I'm a fool,
gon't you? A simpleton! Well, you're wrong about that! I'll
peach you to play games with a Bevilacqua! Understand? I
know what you've been doing, and I'll make you pay for
it! Adulterer! Fornicator!'
At this point Zen's money ran out, sparing him the rest
of Mauro Bevilacqua's tirade. He walked despondently
pack to the Mercedes. By now the octopus had slackened
its grip somewhat, but it still took Zen five minutes tp
work out how to open the bonnet. Once he had done so,
however, he realized at once why the car would not start.
This was no credit to his mechanical knowledge, which
was non-existent. But even he could see that the spray of
wires sticking out of the centre of the motor, each cut
cleanly through, meant that some essential component
had been deliberately removed.
He closed the bonnet and looked around the piazza. The
phone box was now occupied by the man in the beige
overcoat. With a deep sigh, Zen reluctantly returned to the
hotel. Why on earth should anyone want to prevent him
from leaving? Did Padedda need time to cover his tracks?
Or was this sabotage Turiddu's way of reconciling his
anonymous letter with the burdensome demands of
omerta?
The proprietor greeted Zen's reappearance with a per-
fectly blank face, as though he had never seen him before.
'My car's broken down,' Zen told him. 'Is there a taxi
service, a car hire, anything like that?'
'There's a bus.'
'What time does it leave?'
'Six o'clock.'
'In the evening?'
'In the morning.'
Zen gritted his teeth. Then he remembered the railway
down in the valley. It was a long walk, but by now he
was prepared to consider anything to get out of this
cursed place.
'And the train doesn't run on Sunday,' the proprietor
added, as though reading his thoughts.
A phone started ringing in the next room. The pro-
prietor went to answer it. Zen sat down at one of the