Inspector Lynley 18 - Just One Evil Act

or he was an evacuee from the American Wild West via time machine.
    Salvatore frowned. He said, “
Chi è, Barbara?
”
    She ignored him for the moment, saying to Mitch as pleasantly as she could, “You’re going to cock things up if you don’t leave immediately.”
    “I don’t think so,” he said. “The leaving part, I mean. I don’t think I’ll be leaving. Not without a story.”
    “I gave you a story. And you’ve had your bloody picture of Hadiyyah.” Barbara shot a glance at Salvatore. For the first time she was thankful that he spoke practically no English. No one would conclude that Mitchell Corsico—dressed as he was—was a journalist. She needed to keep things that way.
    Corsico said, “That pony isn’t about to gallop. Rod wasn’t chuffed by the winsome photo. He’s running the story but only because it’s our lucky day and no politician got caught in a car behind King’s Cross Station last night.”
    “There’s nothing more, Mitch. Not just now. And there’s not going to
be
more if my companion here”—she didn’t dare use Salvatore’s name and clue him in that he was part of the discussion—“works out who you are and what your living is.”
    Mitch grabbed her arm. “Are you threatening me? I’m not playing games with you.”
    Salvatore said quickly, “
Ha bisogno d’aiuto, Barbara?
” And he clutched onto Corsico’s hand tightly. “
Chi è quest’uomo? Il Suo amante?
”
    “What the bloody hell . . . ?” Corsico said. He winced at the strength of Salvatore’s grip.
    “I don’t know what he’s saying,” Barbara said. “But my guess is that if you don’t back away, you’re going to find yourself in the nick.”
    “I
helped
you,” he said tersely. “I got you the bloody television film. I want what you know and you’re double-crossing me and there’s no way in hell—”
    Salvatore twisted Mitch’s hand sharply away from Barbara’s arm, bending the fingers back so far that Corsico yelped. He said, “Jesus. Call Spartacus off, all right?” He took a step back, massaged his fingers, and glared at her.
    She said quietly, “Look, Mitchell. All I know is we went to a place where they make equipment for scientists. He talked to the managing director there for less than five minutes, and a list of employees is what we came up with. He’s carrying the list in that envelope he’s holding. And that’s all I know.”
    “Am I supposed to get a story out of that?”
    “Christ, I’m telling you what I know. When there’s a story, I’ll give it to you but there isn’t a story yet. Now you’ve got to leave and I’ve got to think of some bloody way to explain who you are because, believe me, once he and I”—with a jerk of her head at Salvatore—“walk into the
questura
, he’s going to fetch a translator and give me a proper grilling and
if
he twigs that you’re a you-know-what, we are cooked. Both of us. Do you understand what happens then? No breaking story at all, and how’s your mate Rodney going to feel about that?”
    Finally, Mitchell Corsico hesitated. His gaze flicked to Salvatore, who was watching with an expression that combined distrust with calculation. Barbara didn’t know what the Italian was thinking, but
whatever
he was thinking, his face seemed to support what she was claiming. Corsico said to Barbara in an altered tone, “Barb, this better not be bollocks.”
    “Would I be that stupid?”
    “Oh, I expect you would.” But he backed off, showing upheld empty hands to Salvatore. He said to Barbara, “You answer your mobile when I ring you, mate.”
    “If I can, I will.”
    He turned on his booted heel and left them, striding towards the café near the railway station. Barbara knew he’d wait there for some sort of word. He owed his editor a Big Story in exchange for this jaunt to Italy, and he wasn’t going to rest until he had one.
    LUCCA
    TUSCANY
    Salvatore watched the cowboy walk off, his long strides made seemingly longer by the straight-legged jeans and the boots he wore. They made an odd couple, this man and Barbara Havers, Salvatore thought. But the nature of attraction had always been something of a mystery to him. He could understand why the cowboy might be attracted to Barbara Havers with her expressive face and fine blue eyes. He couldn’t, on the other hand, understand at all what would attract Barbara Havers to him. This would be the Englishman who had first accompanied her to see Aldo Greco, however.