‘And who is he?’ Marchetta gestured to Graham. ‘I take offence to being bullied by some foreigner.’
‘He’s a security consultant with Neo-Chem Industries. He was sent over here from the United States to help with the investigation.’
Marchetta glared at Graham, then turned back to Paluzzi.
‘We agreed over the phone that you would contact me when you arrived at the hospital,’ he said, switching to Italian to exclude Graham from the conversation.
‘I tried to contact you but you were unavailable at the time.’
‘Then you should have waited until I was available!’ Marchetta snapped angrily.
‘I’m conducting a serious criminal investigation, Doctor. I don’t have time to wait about for you or anybody else. Surely you have an assistant? Why couldn’t you have sent him to meet me?’
‘The reason why I wanted to speak to you personally was to tell you about Conte’s condition. He’s very weak right now. It’s only to be expected after being in a coma for the past forty-eight hours. I can’t let you talk to him for more than five minutes. You’ll be able to question him further this afternoon, depending of course on his condition.’
‘I don’t have time to question him in installments,’ Paluzzi said sharply. ‘I need answers now.’
‘It’s out of the question. He’s in no condition to be interrogated. Five minutes, that’s all.’
‘I’m not asking you, Doctor, I’m telling you. I’m not leaving here until I have the answers I want.’
‘Major, your jurisdiction’s out there,’ Marchetta said, gesturing towards the window with a sweep of his arm. ‘But your authority ended when you entered the hospital. This is my jurisdiction. And what I say goes.’
‘Four guards were killed during the break-in.’ Paluzzi pointed to the door. ‘He is one of the men responsible–’
‘I hate the Red Brigades just as much as the next man, Major, but I’d be failing in my duty as a doctor if I didn’t do everything in my power to nurse him back to health. Then he can stand trial and I hope he spends the rest of his life in jail for what he’s done. But in this hospital he’s a patient, not a terrorist. And he’ll be treated as such.’
‘Ten minutes,’ Paluzzi said. ‘And before you launch into another speech, spare a thought for the victims’ families.’
‘I can’t risk it, Major. Not at this stage. The matron will be up in exactly five minutes’ time to administer his medication.’ Marchetta spun on his heels and strode to the lift.
‘What was all that about?’ Graham asked.
‘I was buying some time for Sergei and Sabrina. I only hope they used it.’
Graham frowned, then took his seat again opposite the door.
Paluzzi went back into the ward. Kolchinsky, standing by the window, immediately put a finger to his lips and motioned to him to remain at the door. Paluzzi nodded then looked at Sabrina who was sitting by the bed, her back to him, a micro-cassette player in her hand. Kolchinsky tiptoed across to Paluzzi and indicated that they should leave the room.
‘What’s wrong?’ Graham asked as they emerged into the corridor.
‘Nothing,’ Kolchinsky said, easing himself on to the chair beside Graham. ‘Sabrina’s managed to get him talking. I don’t want them interrupted until she’s finished.’
‘She’s got about four minutes left,’ Paluzzi said, and recounted his conversation with Marchetta.
‘And what if she’s not through by the time the matron arrives?’ Graham asked.
‘Then we come back later,’ Paluzzi answered.
‘What?’ Graham stared at Paluzzi in disbelief. ‘This could be the breakthrough and you talk about coming back later? The deadline’s tomorrow morning, in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘I don’t have any authority in here, Mike. If we start throwing our weight around we’re going to be out on the street before we know what’s hit us. And knowing the sort of person Marchetta is, he’ll block any further visits until he’s sure Conte’s up to them. And he’d be perfectly in his rights to do so. We’ve got no option, we have to play it by the rules.’
Graham was about to speak but thought better of it. What was the use? Paluzzi was right.
‘We’ve got company,’ Paluzzi said as Calvieri emerged from the lift.
‘Just what the doctor ordered,’ Graham muttered.
‘Morning,’ Calvieri called out, then gestured towards the door. ‘What have you got from Conte?’
‘Nothing yet,’ Kolchinsky said. ‘Sabrina’s still in there with him.’
‘Let me speak to him,’ Calvieri said, making for the door.
Paluzzi blocked his path.
‘Not until we know what Sabrina’s found out. You walk in there now and you could blow any chance we have of cracking the case.’
Calvieri moved to the window and watched a barge laden with crates of fresh produce negotiate its way under the Vittorio Emanuele Bridge and disappear around a sharp bend in the river.
‘What’s the latest on the Pisani murder?’ Kolchinsky asked.
Calvieri turned away from the window.
‘Five dead. Signore Pisani; Rocca, the man Sabrina and I saw last night; and three Brigatisti who were guarding the house.’
‘Any clues, other than that one of the assailants was black?’ Kolchinsky pressed.
‘None so far. It was obviously a professional hit. Even the number plates on the getaway car were blacked out with masking tape.’
‘Who do you suspect?’ Kolchinsky continued.
Calvieri shrugged.
‘We have a lot of enemies but as I said, this was certainly a professional hit. That rules out the vast majority of fascist groups. Most of them wouldn’t have the imagination to hire an outside man, let alone have the money to pay him.’
‘So you think it was carried out by a contract killer?’ Kolchinsky said.
‘That’s my guess, yes.’ Calvieri bit his lower lip pensively. ‘He probably flew in last night, did the job, then flew out again this morning. Our best lead is this black accomplice of his. If we can find him we could identify the hit man.’
Graham and Kolchinsky exchanged glances.
‘So you think his accomplice is a local?’ Graham asked.
‘That’s the assumption we’re working on at the moment. I’m confident we’ll find him before the police do.’
‘Then what? Thumbscrews and electric shocks?’
‘We have our methods, Mr. Graham, just like you.’
The door opened and Sabrina emerged into the corridor.
‘I thought I heard your voice, Tony. Conte wants to see you.’
‘I thought he might,’ Calvieri said, smiling triumphantly at Paluzzi.
She grabbed Calvieri’s arm when he tried to get past her.
‘I’m Sabrina Trestelli, your assistant from Milan. It’s the only way I could get him to talk.’
‘Of course,’ Calvieri said, and followed her into the ward.
‘Have you had a chance to talk to your man, Whitlock, since the hit last night?’ Paluzzi asked Kolchinsky.
‘No, he hasn’t contacted me.’
‘And you’ve got no way of contacting him?’
Kolchinsky shook his head.
‘It would be too dangerous. He’ll call when he can.’
‘We’ve got to warn him, Sergei,’ Graham said. ‘What chance has he got if Calvieri’s thugs catch him unawares?’
‘We can’t, Michael, you know that. We could blow his cover.’
‘I can put a tail on him. No Brigatista will get near him.’
‘And what if Young smells a rat? We’re dealing with a professional, Fabio, not some two-bit Chicago hood.’ Graham looked at Kolchinsky. ‘We’ve got to warn him, Sergei.’
‘Let’s play it by ear, shall we?’ Kolchinsky said defensively, knowing Graham was right. But it was neither the time nor the place to discuss it.
‘It’s throwing-out time,’ Paluzzi said, indicating the matron at the end of the corridor.