Read Online Cosi Fan Tutti - 5 by Michael Dibdin - Free Book Online Page A

while the meter ticks, I’m using every trick in the book, racking my brains for short cuts and alternative solutions - in short, exploiting every last drop of my professional skill and experience, and all for you, duttbV
    The cab shot out into a wider street. Pasquale wound down his window. In the distance, Zen could just hear the freakish ululations of an ambulance siren. Pasquale appeared to sniff the air briefly, then turned right down a narrow street.
    ‘Plus the firm’s switchboard is always busy/ he continued as though without a pause. ‘It can take you ten, twenty minutes to get through sometimes. The boss won’t put anyone but his own nieces and cousins on that work, and there just aren’t enough of them when things get busy.
    Fortunately I happen to know someone with an interest in the mobile phone business who fixed me up with the equipment and hook-up, all at rates you wouldn’t believe!
    I’d have been a fool not to take advantage.’
    He negotiated another red light at the intersection of two traffic-clogged streets near the former royal palace.
    The sound of the siren was louder now.
    ‘Speaking of which, duttb, I can get you the same great deal if you’re interested. You’re in the police, right? I heard you telling those two whores so last night.’
    Zen glanced up at the man’s wary, intelligent eyes reflected in the rear-view mirror. The cab slowed to a crawl as the ambulance appeared in the traffic behind, its siren and lights forcing the cars to give way. The moment it passed, Pasquale accelerated savagely, darting into the slipstream of the speeding emergency vehicle.
    I’m not really a policeman/ Zen replied. “I just told those girls that to impress them.’
    ‘Whatever. You’ll still find it invaluable, both professionally and personally.’
    ‘Is this really a good idea?’ Zen asked as they thundered along, almost touching the rear bumper of the constantly swerving ambulance.
    ‘A good idea? At just a hundred and twenty for the instrument, brand new, Korean manufacture, with a five year guarantee, plus access fees that are the lowest in the Zen started to say something, then broke off, horrified to discover that Pasquale was not looking at the road ahead, where the ambulance had just slammed on its
    brakes, but at his passenger.
    ‘Believe me, duttb, it’s not just a convenience but a necessity/ the cabby exclaimed. ‘A regular life-saver!’
     
     
    Parla un linguaggio die non sappiamo
     
     
    This was the first time that Aurelio Zen had set foot in his nominal place of work at the weekend, when it seemed even more cavernous and deserted than usual, reduced to a purely symbolic status, a mere sign of the State’s vacuous omnipresence. It didn’t help that Zen felt himself to be an imposter of a particularly phoney and convoluted variety, someone reduced to impersonating himself. It was therefore a relief to see Giovan Battista Caputo swaggering along the corridor with his chilling grin, raptor’s eyes and quick, decisive movements.
    ‘The Questura just called again. I told them you’d gone to Rome for an urgent consultation with someone at the ministry and weren’t expected back until tonight.’
    Zen nodded and pushed open the door to his oppressively large and empty office.
    ‘And the prisoner?’
    ‘He finally opened his mouth/ ‘Ah!’
    ‘But only to say that he doesn’t speak Italian/
    ‘So what does he speak?’
    ‘English, so he claims.’
    Zen sighed massively as he hung up his coat and hat.
    ‘Get him up here/ he told Caputo. ‘Also all his belongings, clothes, everything he had on him. And bring me the arresting officer’s report/
    ‘It’s there on your desk, chief/ While he waited for Caputo to bring the prisoner up from the cells, Zen skimmed through the report. It was as impressively precise and detailed as a railway timetable, with every event timed to the nearest minute, every distance measured to the last fraction of a metre - and probably