the degree of latitude accorded the police. In many ways this had been a positive step, putting an end to practices which had led to so many abuses in the past, when they had been justified by the need to win the battle against political terrorists such as the Red Brigades. Nevertheless, the new approach suited neither Zen’s habits nor his temperament.
This possibly explained why he could never remember the precise norms and procedures which the revised Code prescribed. Like all senior officials, he had had to attend a course on the new system, but his position with the elite Criminalpol squad meant that in practice he had been largely spared any need to change his working practices. Criminalpol officials intervened only in the most important cases, and were usually accorded a fairly free hand by the magistrates involved.
But this was very different. Not only was Zen not acting under the aegis of the Interior Ministry in the present instance, he was not even supposed to be investigating the Durridge case at all. He was on his own, and any initiatives he took would have to respect the letter of the new law if they were to pass the scrutiny of the Public Prosecutor’s Office. He had known this all along, but he had been counting on the fact that a small-time boatyard owner like Giulio Bon probably wouldn’t know his exact rights under the new system either, still less have access to a lawyer who could make them stick.
Zen looked at the intruder, who was waiting expectantly for an answer. It was odd that a man like Bon should be prepared to pay the kind of money Gorin must charge. It was still odder that Gorin apparently did not know his client’s name.
‘I have reason to suppose that this man possesses information relating to a case I am currently investigating,’ he said carefully. ‘I have therefore had him brought here to answer a few questions.’
‘What is the case?’ asked Gorin.
‘It concerns the sale of a boat.’
Gorin frowned.
‘Involving an infraction of which article of the Code?’
‘That remains to be seen,’ Zen replied stolidly.
‘Have you informed the Public Prosecutor’s Office?’
‘Not yet.’
Gorin turned to Bon.
‘Signor, er…’
‘Bon, dotto. Giulio Bon.’
‘Have you answered any of this official’s questions?’
‘Yes.’
‘Since your legal representative was not present, whatever responses you may have given are inadmissible as evidence. Do you wish to answer the questions again in my presence?’
Bon looked up warily.
‘Do I have to?’
Gorin turned to Zen.
‘Do you intend to place Signor Bon in detention or under arrest?’
This was the crux. Zen had enough evidence against Bon to hold him for questioning, but under the new Code he would have to communicate this fact to the judiciary. That would mean officially revealing his involvement with the Durridge case, and his position was still too weak to risk that.
‘Not at present,’ he replied.
Gorin turned back to Bon.
‘There is therefore no necessity for you to answer any questions, or indeed to remain here, unless you wish to do so.’
Bon stood up quickly.
‘I’ve already told him everything I know!’ he blurted out. ‘I’ve got work to do! Why should I waste my time here if I don’t have to?’
‘Why indeed?’ echoed Gorin.
Bon looked from Gorin to Zen and back again. With a snort of defiance he pushed past the policewoman and walked out. Gorin waggled a hairy finger at the tape recorder.
‘Now then, what about that?’ he asked.
‘What about it?’
‘Since the interview it records was conducted irregularly, the existence of the tape constitutes a violation of my client’s civil rights. Under articles 596 and 724 of the Criminal Code, it is an offence to make recordings of speech acts and other discourse without the written consent of the parties involved. Did my client grant such consent?’
Zen shook his head.
‘Then I must ask you to surrender the tape.’
Zen frowned.
‘It is not the existence of the tape which is at issue, but that of the recording.’
Gorin smiled.
‘A fine distinction, dottore. But since the recording subsists through the medium of the tape, for all practical purposes the two are one and the same. I must therefore ask you once again to hand over the offending article.’
Zen wagged his forefinger negatively.
‘It is true that the recording cannot exist without the tape, avvocato, but the reverse is not the case.’
He turned to Sottotenente Pia Nunziata, who had been watching this exchange open-mouthed.
‘Rewind the spool and erase the recording.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Gorin stepped forward, waving his hands impatiently.
‘No, no, I can’t be expected to hang around here for however long it takes to erase this illegal recording.’
The policewoman fended him off with an icy look.
‘Our equipment is fitted with a high-speed dubbing facility which makes it possible to erase a tape like this in a matter of minutes.’
To prove her point, she pressed a button and the tapes began spinning rapidly. Gorin stared at her for a moment, then stepped back and waved graciously, conceding the point.
‘In that case, I need detain you no longer. Good day!’
With a debonair smile and a courteous nod, the lawyer swept out. As soon as his footsteps had receded, Pia Nunziata switched off the tape recorder.
‘Shall I make a transcript, dottore?’ she asked Zen.
Zen frowned at her.
‘But that tape’s blank now.’
The policewoman shook her head.
‘I made that up. There’s no high-speed facility. I just put it on fast forward.’
Zen smiled slowly.
‘ Brava! But now, if you please, erase it properly.’
He watched her rewind the tape once more, disconnect the microphone and press the red button. Then he got his coat and hat and walked out. The existence of any record of his interview with Giulio Bon was now a threat to Zen, since the questions he had asked contained numerous clues to the real reason for his presence in the city. That was why he had been so concerned to stop it falling into the hands of Carlo Berengo Gorin, especially if Zen’s idea about how the lawyer had come to be summoned to the Questura proved to be correct. In that case the fighting was going to get very dirty indeed.
Zen walked quickly downstairs to the first floor, where he stopped to read the montage of typewritten announcements pinned to the staff noticeboard. Most concerned minor changes to rotas and shift schedules, and were of limited interest even to permanent staff, but Zen was apparently so absorbed by them that he did not even glance round when a door opened further along the corridor.
‘… again, Carlo.’
