JК
The English Assassin :: Silva Daniel
Страница: 55 из 209”
“What sort of official capacity? What’s the name of this obscure agency that you work for? This agency connected to the Ministry of Defense.”
“I don’t work for them. I’m just performing a service for them.”
“Do they have a name?”
“It’s called the Institute for Coordination, but most of the people who work there call it the Office.”
“You’re a spy, aren’t you?”
“I’m not a spy.”
“Why do I know that you’re lying to me?”
“I’m an art restorer.”
“So why did we travel separately to Zurich? Why did we go to so much trouble at the airport in Stuttgart to avoid being seen together?”
“It was a precautionary measure. The Swiss police made it clear to me I’m no longer welcome.”
“Why would they take a step like that?”
“Because they were a little miffed that I’d fled the scene of a crime.”
“Why did you flee my father’s house?”
“I’ve told you that already.”
“You fled my father’s house because you’re a spy, and you were afraid of going to the police. I was watching you at the airport. You’re very good.”
“I’m not a spy.”
“Then what are you? And don’t tell me you’re just an art restorer who’s doing a favor for someone in some obscure agency called the Office, because I don’t believe you. And if you don’t tell me the truth right now, you might as well turn around and drive back to Stuttgart, because I’m not going to tell you a fucking thing.”
She tossed her cigarette out the window and waited for his answer. The legendary temper of Anna Rolfe.
IT was after midnight when they arrived in Zurich. An air of abandonment hung over the city center: the Bahnhofstrasse dark and still, pavements deserted, ice falling through the lights. They crossed the river; Gabriel drove carefully up the slick roads of the Zürichberg. The last thing he wanted was to get stopped for a traffic violation.
They parked on the street outside the villa. Anna dealt with the keyless locks at the gate and the front entrance. Gabriel saw enough to tell him that the codes had been changed since the murder.
The foyer was in darkness. Anna closed the door before switching on the lights. Without speaking she led him inside, passing the entrance to the large drawing room where Gabriel had discovered the body of her father. He glanced inside. The air was drenched with the scent of cleaning fluid. The Oriental carpet was gone, but the Raphael still hung on the wall.
“What sort of official capacity? What’s the name of this obscure agency that you work for? This agency connected to the Ministry of Defense.”
“I don’t work for them. I’m just performing a service for them.”
“Do they have a name?”
“It’s called the Institute for Coordination, but most of the people who work there call it the Office.”
“You’re a spy, aren’t you?”
“I’m not a spy.”
“Why do I know that you’re lying to me?”
“I’m an art restorer.”
“So why did we travel separately to Zurich? Why did we go to so much trouble at the airport in Stuttgart to avoid being seen together?”
“It was a precautionary measure. The Swiss police made it clear to me I’m no longer welcome.”
“Why would they take a step like that?”
“Because they were a little miffed that I’d fled the scene of a crime.”
“Why did you flee my father’s house?”
“I’ve told you that already.”
“You fled my father’s house because you’re a spy, and you were afraid of going to the police. I was watching you at the airport. You’re very good.”
“I’m not a spy.”
“Then what are you? And don’t tell me you’re just an art restorer who’s doing a favor for someone in some obscure agency called the Office, because I don’t believe you. And if you don’t tell me the truth right now, you might as well turn around and drive back to Stuttgart, because I’m not going to tell you a fucking thing.”
She tossed her cigarette out the window and waited for his answer. The legendary temper of Anna Rolfe.
IT was after midnight when they arrived in Zurich. An air of abandonment hung over the city center: the Bahnhofstrasse dark and still, pavements deserted, ice falling through the lights. They crossed the river; Gabriel drove carefully up the slick roads of the Zürichberg. The last thing he wanted was to get stopped for a traffic violation.
They parked on the street outside the villa. Anna dealt with the keyless locks at the gate and the front entrance. Gabriel saw enough to tell him that the codes had been changed since the murder.
The foyer was in darkness. Anna closed the door before switching on the lights. Without speaking she led him inside, passing the entrance to the large drawing room where Gabriel had discovered the body of her father. He glanced inside. The air was drenched with the scent of cleaning fluid. The Oriental carpet was gone, but the Raphael still hung on the wall.