The Terra-Cotta Dog Read Online Free PDF Page A

forward by the violence of his thrust, flew all the way across the room and slammed his face against the wall, crushing his nose and ending up choking on the blood that started to gush violently forth. By the dim light of the oil lamp that Tano had left burning, the inspector was able to appreciate the Greek’s consummate acting skills. Pretending to have been surprised awake, he leapt to his feet cursing and hurled himself towards the Kalishnikov, which was now leaning against the table and therefore far from the cot. Montalbano was ready to recite his lines as the foil, as they say in the theater.
    â€œStop in the name of the law! Stop or I’ll shoot!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, then fired four shots into the ceiling. Tano froze, hands raised. Convinced that someone must be hiding upstairs, Galluzzo fired a burst from his machine gun at the wooden staircase. Outside, Fazio and Gallo, upon hearing all the shooting, opened fire on the little window to discourage anyone from trying that route. With everyone inside the cottage still deaf from the roar of the gunshots, Germanà burst in with the final flourish:
    â€œDon’t anybody move or I’ll shoot!”
    He barely had time to finish uttering his threat when he was bumped from behind by Fazio and Gallo and pushed directly between Montalbano and Galluzzo, who, having set down his weapon, was dabbing his nose with a handkerchief he had taken out of his pocket, the blood having already dripped onto his shirt, tie, and jacket. At the sight of him, Gallo became agitated.
    â€œDid he shoot you? The bastard shot you, didn’t he?” he yelled in rage, turning towards Tano, who was still standing patient as a saint in the middle of the room, hands raised, waiting for the forces of order to put some order to the great confusion they were creating.
    â€œNo, he didn’t shoot me. I ran into the wall,” Galluzzo managed to say with some difficulty. Tano avoided their eyes, looking down at his shoes.
    He thinks it’s funny , thought Montalbano, then he brusquely ordered Galluzzo:
    â€œHandcuff him.”
    â€œIs it him?” asked Fazio in a soft voice.
    â€œSure it’s him. Don’t you recognize him?” said Montalbano.
    â€œWhat do we do now?”
    â€œPut him in the car and take him to police headquarters in Montelusa. On the way, ring up the commissioner and explain everything. Make sure nobody sees or recognizes the prisoner. The arrest, for the moment, has to remain top secret. Now go.”
    â€œWhat about you?”
    â€œI’m going to have a look around, search the house. You never know.”
    Fazio and the officers, holding the handcuffed Tano between them, started moving towards the door, with Germanà holding the prisoner’s Kalishnikov in his hand. Only then did Tano the Greek raise his head and look momentarily at Montalbano. The inspector noticed that the statuelike gaze was gone. Now those eyes were animated, almost smiling.
    When the group of five vanished from sight at the bottom of the path, Montalbano went back inside the cottage to begin his search. In fact, he opened the cupboard, grabbed the bottle of wine, which was still half-full, and went and sat in the shade of an olive tree, to drink it down in peace. The capture of a dangerous fugitive had been brought to a successful conclusion.
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As soon as he saw Montalbano come into the office, Mimì Augello, looking possessed by the devil, put him through the meat grinder:
    â€œWhere the hell have you been?! Where’ve you been hiding? What happened to everybody else? What the fuck is going on here, anyway?”
    He must have been really angry to speak so frankly. In the three years they had been working together, the inspector had never heard his assistant use obscenities. Actually, no: the time some asshole shot Tortorella in the stomach, Augello had reacted the same way.
    â€œMimì, what’s got into