rludlum-shelby.thecassandracompact-第10节

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for　a　napkin；　he　dabbed　his　face　and　crown。
　〃Do　you　know　who　Smith　is？〃　he　demanded　hoarsely。
　〃As　a　matter　of　fact　I　do；〃　Reed　replied　calmly。　〃I've　known　him　for　years。〃
　He　pressed　his　back　against　the　banquette；　anything　to　get　farther　from　the　sour　odor　that　seemed　to　follow　Treloar　wherever　he　went。　Reed　didn't　care　that　his　gesture　was　so　obviously　rude；　he　had　never　made　a　secret　of　the　contempt　he　felt　for　the　shuttle　mission's　chief　medical　officer。
　〃If　you　know　who　he　is；　then　tell　me　what　he's　doing　here；〃　Treloar　demanded。　〃He　was　the　one　with　Danko　in　Venice！〃
　Reed's　hand　shot　out　like　a　cobra；　seizing　Treloar's　left　wrist；　his　powerful　grip　squeezing　the　delicate　nerves。　Treloar　rolled　his　eyes　and　his　mouth　fell　open　as　he　gasped。
　〃What　do　you　know　about　Venice？〃　Reed　demanded　softly。
　〃I。。。　overheard　you　talking　about　it！〃　Treloar　managed　to　say。
　〃Then　forget　that　I　ever　did；　do　you　understand？〃　he　said　in　his　silky　voice。　〃Venice　is　not　your　concern。　Neither　is　Smith。〃
　He　released　Treloar's　wrist　and　was　pleased　by　the　residual　pain　he　saw　in　the　medical　officer's　eyes。
　〃It　just　seems　too　much　of　a　coincidence　that　first；　Smith　was　in　Venice；　now　he's　here；〃　Treloar　said。
　〃Believe　me；　Smith　knows　nothing。　He　has　nothing。　Danko　was　dealt　with　before　he　could　say　anything。　And　there's　a　simple　explanation　as　to　why　he　was　in　Venice。　Danko　and　Smith　knew　each　other　from　international　conferences。　Obviously　they　were　friends。　When　Danko　decided　to　bolt；　Smith　was　the　man　he　decided　he　could　trust。　Nothing　more　plicated　or　sinister　than　that。〃
　〃Then　it's　safe　for　me　to　travel？〃
　〃Very　safe；〃　Reed　assured　him。　〃In　fact；　why　don't　we　have　another　drink　and　go　over　the　arrangements。〃
　
　Peter　Howell　let　several　hours　go　by　before　he　left　the　Danieli　Hotel　and　threaded　his　way　to　the　Rio　del　San　Moise；　where　the　assassins　had　gone　to　their　fiery　deaths。　As　he　anticipated；　there　was　only　a　handful　of　carabinieri　patrolling　the　perimeter　to　ensure　that　no　tourists　wandered　into　the　roped…off　crime　scene。
　The　man　he　expected　to　see　there　was　examining　the　charred　remains　of　the　assassins'　gondola。　Behind　him；　divers　continued　to　scour　the　canal　for　more　evidence。
　A　carabinieri　blocked　Howell's　path。
　〃I　wish　to　speak　with　Inspector　Dionetti；〃　the　Englishman　said　in　fluent　Italian。
　Howell　waited　as　the　policeman　walked　up　to　the　short；　trim　man；　thoughtfully　stroking　his　goatee　while　he　examined　a　piece　of　blackened　wood。
　Marco　Dionetti；　an　inspector　in　the　Polizia　Statale；　looked　up　and　blinked　when　he　recognized　Howell。　He　stripped　off　his　rubber　gloves；　brushed　imaginary　lint　off　the　lapels　of　his　hand…tailored　suit；　then　came　to　Howell　and　embraced　in　the　Italian　fashion。
　〃Pietro！　A　pleasure　to　see　you　again。〃　Dionetti　looked　Howell　up　and　down。　〃At　least　I　hope　it　will　be　pleasant。〃
　〃It's　good　to　see　you　too；　Marco。〃
　During　the　golden　age　of　terrorism　in　the　mid…1980s；　Peter　Howell；　on　loan　from　the　SAS；　had　worked　with　high…level　Italian　policemen　on　kidnappings　involving　British　citizens。　One　of　the　men　he　had　e　to　admire　and　respect　was　a　soft…spoken　but　tough…as…nails　aristocrat　by　the　name　of　Marco　Dionetti；　then　a　rising　star　in　the　Statale。　Over　the　years；　he　and　Howell　had　kept　in　touch。　Howell　had　a　standing　invitation　to　stay　at　Dionetti's　ancestral　palazzo　whenever　he　was　in　Venice。
　〃So　here　you　are　in　the　Serenissima　but　you　have　not　called　on　me；　much　less　allowed　me　to　be　your　host；〃　Dionetti　chided　him。　〃Where　are　you　staying？　I　Danieli；　I'll　wager。〃
　〃My　apologies；　Marco；〃　Howell　replied。　〃I　just　arrived　yesterday　and　things　have　been　a　little　hectic。〃
　Dionetti　looked　behind　him　at　the　wreckage　strewn　on　the　embankment。　〃Hectic？　Of　course；　the　classic　British　understatement。　May　I　be　so　bold　as　to　ask　whether　you　know　anything　about　this　outrage？〃
　〃You　may。　And　I'll　be　happy　to　tell　you。　But　not　here。〃
　Dionetti　let　out　a　sharp　whistle。　Almost　instantly　a　blue…and…white　police　launch　purred　up　to　the　steps　leading　from　the　embankment　to　the　water。
　〃We　can　talk　on　the　way；〃　Dionetti　said。
　〃On　the　way　to　where？〃
　〃Really；　Pietro！　We　are　going　to　the　Questura。　It　would　be　bad　manners　for　me　to　expect　you　to　answer　my　questions　if　I　do　not　answer　yours。〃
　Howell　followed　the　inspector　to　the　stern　of　the　craft。　Both　men　waited　until　the　boat　had　cleared　the　Rio　del　San　Moise　and　throttled　out　into　the　Grand　Canal。
　〃Tell　me；　Pietro；〃　the　inspector　said　over　the　rumble　of　the　diesels。　〃What　do　you　know　of　that　little　horror　that　erupted　in　our　fair　city？〃
　〃I'm　not　running　an　operation；〃　Howell　assured　him。　〃But　the　incident　involved　a　friend　of　mine。〃
　〃And　did　your　friend　happen　to　be　the　mysterious　gentleman　at　the　Piazza　San　Marco？〃　Dionetti　asked。　〃The　one　seen　with　the　shooting　victim？　The　one　who　chased　after　the　killers；　then　disappeared？〃
　〃The　same。〃
　Dionetti　sighed　theatrically。　〃Tell　me　this　has　nothing　to　do　with　terrorism；　Pietro。〃
　〃It　doesn't。〃
　〃We　found　a　Ukrainian　passport　on　the　victim；　but　little　else。　He　looked　like　he　had　had　a　hard　journey。　Should　Italy　be　concerned　as　to　why　he　came　here？〃
　〃Italy　needn't　be　concerned。　He　was　only　passing　through。〃
　Dionetti　stared　at　the　traffic　on　the　river；　the　water　taxis　and　water　buses；　the　garbage　scows　and　the　elegant　gondolas　bobbing　in　the　wakes　of　the　larger　vessels。　The　Grand　Canal　was　the　main　artery　of　his　beloved　Venezia；　and　he　felt　its　pulse　keenly。
　〃I　do　not　want　trouble；　Pietro；〃　he　said。
　〃Then　help　me；〃　Howell　replied。　〃I'll　see　to　it　that　trouble　leaves。〃　He　paused。　〃Did　you　find　enough　to　identify　the　killers　and　how　they　were　murdered？〃
　〃A　bomb；〃　Dionetti　said　flatly。　〃More　powerful　than　need　be。　Someone　wanted　to　obliterate　them。　However；　if　that　was　their　intention；　they　failed。　We　found　enough　for　identification…　assuming　those　two　were　in　our　records。　We　shall　see　shortly。〃
　The　launch　slowed　as　it　reached　the　Rio　di　Ca　Gazoni；　then　rumbled　slowly　into　the　dock　in　front　of　the　Questura；　the　Polizia　Statale　headquarters。
　Dionetti　led　them　past　the　armed　guards　stationed　outside　the　seventeenth…century　palazzo。
　〃Once　the　home　of　a　proud　family；〃　Dionetti　said　over　his　shoulder。　〃Repossessed　for　back　taxes。　When　the　government　took　it　over；　it　became　a　fancy　police　station。〃　He　shook　his　head。
　Howell　followed　him　down　a　wide　corridor　into　a　room　that　looked　like　it　had　once　been　a　formal　drawing　room。　Beyond　the　windows　was　a　garden；　lying　fallow。
　Dionetti　went　around　his　desk　and　tapped　on　the　puter　keyboard。　A　printer　whirred　to　life。
　〃The　Rocca　brothers…Tommaso　and　Luigi；〃　he　said；　handing　Howell　the　printouts。
　Howell　contemplated　the　photographs　of　two　very　tough…looking　men　in　their　late　twenties。　〃Sicilians？〃
　〃Exactly。　Mercenaries。　We　have　long　suspected　that　they　were　responsible　for　the　shooting　of　a　federal　prosecutor　in　Palermo　and　a　judge　in　Rome。〃
　〃How　expensive　were　they？〃
　〃Very。　Why　do　you　ask？〃
　〃Because　only　someone　with　both　money　and　connections　would　have　hired　men　like　them。　These　are　professionals。　They　do　not　need　to　advertise。〃
　〃But　why　kill　a　Ukrainian　peasant…　if　in　fact　he　was　that？〃
　〃I　don't　know；〃　Howell　replied　truthfully。　〃But　I　need　to　find　out。　Do　you　have　any　idea　where　they　were　based？〃
　〃Palermo。　Their　birthplace。〃
　Howell　nodded。　〃What　about　the　explosives？〃
　Dionetti　returned　to　the　puter。
　〃Yes。。。　the　preliminary　report　from　the　forensics　laboratory　indicates　that　it　was　C…twelve；　about　half　a　kilo's　worth。〃
　Howell　looked　at　him　sharply。　〃C…twelve？　You're　sure？〃
　Dionetti　shrugged。　〃You　may　recall　that　our　laboratory　has　very　high　standards；　Pietro。　I　would　accept　their　conclusion　at　face　value。〃
　〃So　would　I；〃　Howell　replied　thoughtfully。
　But　how　had　the　killer　of　the　two　Sicilians　gotten　hold　of　the　U。S。　Army's　latest　explosives？
　
　Marco　Dionetti's　home　was　a　sixteenth…century；　four…story　limestone　palazzo　that　fronted　the　Grand　Canal　a　stone's　throw　away　from　the　Accademia。　In　the　grand　dining　room；　dominated　by　a　fireplace　sculpted　by　Moretta；　the　stern　faces　of　Dionetti's　ancestors　gazed　down　from　portraits　painted　by　Renaissance　masters。
　Peter　Howell　finished　his　last　bite　of　seppioline　and　sat　back　as　an　elderly　servant　removed　his　plate。
　〃My　pliments　to　Maria。　The　cuttlefish　was　excellent…　just　as　I　remembered　it。〃
　〃I'll　be　sure　to　tell　her；〃　Dionetti　replied　as　a　tray　of　bussolai　was　presented。　He　picked　up　one　of　the　cinnamon…flavored　biscuits　and　nibbled　thoughtfully。
　〃Pietro；　I　understand　your　need　for　discretion。　But　I　too　have　masters　I　must　answer　to。　Is　there　nothing　you　can　tell　me　about　the　Ukrainian？〃
　〃My　job　was　simply　to　cover　the　contact；〃　Howell　replied。　〃There　was　no　indication　that　there　would　be　bloodshed。〃
　Dionetti　steepled　his　fingers。　〃I　suppose　I　could　make　a　case　that　the　Rocca　brothers　had　a　contract　and　carried　it　out　on　the　wrong　individual；　that　the　man　seen　fleeing　from　the　piazza　was　the　intended　victim。〃
　〃That　may　not　explain　why　the　Roccas　were　blown　up；〃　Howell　pointed　out。
　Dionetti　dismissed　the　possibility　with　a　wave　of　his　fingers。　〃The　brothers　had　many　enemies。