"MacLean, Alistair - Flood Gate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maclean Alistair)

US Army or the US Army through the German government, had issued a stop
order to the press.

8
 One

'It is clear that it is the work of a madman.' Jon de Jong, tall, lean,
grey, ascetic and the general manager of Schiphol airport, looked and
sounded very gloomy indeed and, in the circumstances, he had every
justification in looking and sounding that way.
'Insanity. A man has to be deranged, unhinged, to perform a wanton,
mindless, pointless and purposeless task like this.' Like the monkish
professor he so closely resembled, de Jong tended to be precise to the
point of pedantry and, as now, had a weakness for pompous tautology.
'A lunatic.'
'One sees your point of view,' de Graaf said. Colonel van de Graaf, a
remarkably broad man of medium height with a deeply trenched, tanned face,
had about him an imperturbability and an unmistakable cast of authority
that accorded well with the Chief of Police of a nation's capital city. 'I
can understand and agree with it but only to a certain extent. I appreciate
how you feel, my friend. Your beloved airport, one of the best in
Europe -

'Amsterdam airport is the best in Europe.' De Jong spoke as if by rote, his
thoughts elsewhere. 'Was.'
'And will be again. The criminal responsible for this is, it is certain,
not a man of a normal cast of mind. But that does not mean that he is
instantly certifiable. Maybe he doesn't like you, has a grudge against you.
Maybe he's an ex-employee fired by one of your departmental managers for
what the manager regarded as a perfectly valid reason but a reason with
which the disgruntled employee didn't agree. Maybe he's a citizen living
close by, on the outskirts of Amsterdam, say, or between here and Aalsmeer,
who finds the decibel level from the aircraft intolerably high. Maybe he's
a dedicated environmentalist who

9
 objects, in what must be a very violent fashion, to jet engines polluting
the atmosphere, which they undoubtedly do. Our country, as you are well
aware, has more than its fair share of dedicated environmentalists. Maybe he
doesn't like our Government's policies.' De Graaf ran a hand through his
thick, iron-grey hair. 'Maybe anything. But he could be as sane as either of
us.'
'Maybe you'd better have another look, Colonel,' de Jong said. His hands
were clenching and unclenching and he was shivering violently. Both of
those were involuntary but for different reasons. The former accurately
reflected an intense frustration and anger; the latter was due to the fact
that, when an ice-cold wind blows east-north-east off the 1jsselmeer, and
before that from Siberia, the roof of the main concourse of Schiphol
airport was no place to be. 'As sane as you or I? Would you or I have been
responsible for this - this atrocity? Look, Colonel, just look.'