Читать книгу Top Hook - Gordon Kent, Gordon Kent - Страница 13

“As soon as he drew a gun, I tackled the man in front of me and brought him down. Then I began to fire at the ones shooting into the front of the café. They returned fire and killed the man I had tackled.”

“You had a gun, Commander?” The Italian cop smelled strongly of cologne and leaned forward across the desk every time he spoke. Alan couldn’t decide whether it was a very polite interrogation or a very thorough witness examination.

“No, signore, I did not have a gun. I took it from the man who was standing in front of me.”

“You are a commando? A specialist?”

Alan was now going over this ground for the third time. “I took him by surprise.”

“You overpowered one terrorist, took his gun, and shot a second.”

“Yes.”

The cop watched Alan with a kindly look of disbelief. Another investigator entered the room, a razor-thin man in a very nice suit.

“Why were you there at all, Commander?”

“I wanted a cup of coffee.” The name, Bonner, and all its implications hung before him. He wasn’t ready to give them the woman yet. “Signori, may I remind you that I’m an officer in the US Navy, and that under international agreements I have the right to representation by my service, and to have them informed? Am I a suspect in this?” He wanted to say as well that his foot hurt like hell, but he didn’t think they’d be sympathetic.

“It would be easier for all of us if you would simply aid our investigation, Commander. Are you uncomfortable?”

“I have a detachment to command.”

“You shot two men in our city, Commander. That causes us huge concern. You understand that since the recent unfortunate incident with the US plane and the cable car, Italians are very touchy about Americans killing people in Italy.”

Alan spread his hands in an engaging, almost Italian way, as if to say, What can I do?

“I do understand that, but I also understand that you’re keeping me without a charge, and I would like my command to be notified. I have cooperated. And I didn’t kill both of them. I shot one. The other was shot by his own people. And they weren’t Italians, they were Serbs.”

“Italy is not at war with the Serbs, Commander.” He put an index finger, pointed upward, beside his temple, as if he was signaling an idea. “I wonder if you did not come to Italy to execute these men.” He raised his eyebrows: Good idea? Getting no response, he looked for the fifth or tenth time at Alan’s passport. “You landed in Aviano just seven hours ago.”

Alan was unsure whether to react with anger or to continue to respond politely. He’d tried both for two hours, and he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. He started again.

“I tackled the man I had noticed in front of me as soon as he drew a gun…”