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paced himself and she was soon out of sight. About halfway up, he stopped at a
large window so the wind could cool his face. He caught his breath, then took
off again, even slower now. A few minutes later, he stopped again, his heart
pounding away, his lungs working overtime, his mind wondering if he could make
it. After 498 steps he finally emerged from the boxlike attic and stepped onto
the top of the tower. Francesca was smoking a cigarette, gazing upon her
beautiful city, no sign of sweat anywhere on her face. The view from the top
was panoramic. The red tile roofs of the city were covered with two inches of
snow. The pale green dome of San Bartolomeo was directly under them, refusing
any accumulation. "On a clear day, you can see the Adriatic Sea to the east,
and the Alps to the north," she said, still in English. "It's just beautiful,
even in the snow."
"Just beautiful," he said, almost panting. The wind whipped through th e metal
bars between the brick posts, and it was much colder above Bologn a than on
its streets
.
"The tower is the fifth-tallest structure in old Italy," she said proudly. H
e was certain she could name the other four
.
"Why was this tower saved?" he asked
.
"Two reasons, I think. It was well designed and well built. The Asinell i
family was strong and powerful. And it was used as a prison briefly in th e
fourteenth century, when many of the other towers were demolished
.
Truthfully, no one really knows why this one was spared." Three hundre d feet
up, and she was a different person. Her eyes were alive, her voic e radiant
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
.
"This always reminds me of why I love my city," she said with a rare smile
.
Not at him, not at anything he said, but at the rooftops and skyline o f
Bologna. They stepped to the other side and looked in the distance to th e
southwest. On a hill above the city they could see the outline of Santuario d
i
San Luca, the guardian angel of the city
.
"Have you been there?" she asked
.
"No.
"
"We'll do it one day when the weather is nice, okay?
"
"Sure.
"
"We have so much to see.
"
Maybe he wouldn't fire her after all. He was so starved for companionship
, especially from the opposite sex, that he could tolerate her aloofness an d
sadness and mood swings. He would study even harder to gain her approval
.
If the climb to the top of the Asinelli Tower had buoyed her spirits, the tri
p down brought back the same old dour demeanor. They had a quick espress o
near the towers and said goodbye. As she walked away, no superficial hug
, no cheek-pecking, not even a cursory handshake, he decided he would giv e
her one more week
.
He put her on secret probation. She had seven days to become nice, or he'
d simply stop the lessons. Life was too short
.
She was very pretty, though
.
The envelope had been opened by his secretary, just like all the other mai l
from yesterday and the day before. But inside the first e n
velope was another, this one addressed simply to Neal Backman. In bold print
on the front and back were the dire warnings: personal, CONFIDENTIAL, TO
BE OPENED ONLY BY NEAL BACKMAN. "You might want to look at the one on top,"
the secretary said as she hauled in his daily stack of mail at 9:00
a.m. "The envelope was postmarked two days ago in York, Pennsylvania."
When she closed the door behind her, Neal examined the envelope. It was light
brown in color, with no markings other than what had been hand-printed by the
sender. The printing look vaguely familiar. With a letter opener, he slowly
cut along the top of the envelope, then pulled out a single sheet of folded
white paper. It was from his father. It was a shock, but then it was not. Dear
Neal:Feb.
21 I'm safe for now but I doubt it will last. I need your help. I have no
address, no phone, no fax, and I'm not sure I would use them if I could. I
need access to e-mail, something that cannot be traced. I have no idea how to
do this, but I
know you can figure it out. I have no computer and no money. There is a good
chance you are being watched, so whatever you do, you must not leave a trail.
Cover your tracks. Cover mine. Trust no one. Watch everything. Hide this
letter, then destroy it. Send me as much money as possible. You know I'll pay
it back. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]