"Let me tell you about Basillio di Vanessi," he said after a moment of silence. "The substitution. They've been trying to get me for months."
"They?"
"Someone in the top rank of the Mafiosi," Parson said. I could not help it; I still thought of him as Barry Parson, and not as Rico Corelli.
"But how do you know that for sure?"
"I have friends there, too. In the top. The Capo of Capos wanted me out of the chain. He wanted me totaled."
"What's his name?"
He smiled. "Forget it. Just believe me."
"All right. So the Capo of Capos wanted you out."
"Wanted me dead. Tried to tell me twice already. Once in Corsica. Once in Naples. I was down there on a delivery."
"Naples? That's where The Mosquito comes from."
He looked at me sharply. "You get around."
"I was told."
"By whom?"
"Never mind."
"When the second hit failed…"
"The one at your villa in Corsica?"
He frowned at me. "Yes." He waited. Then: "When that one failed, I decided to get out of the business. That's when I came to you people."
I nodded. "I know all about that." I did not. But there was no use listening to his story. I would have no way of knowing whether it was true or false.
"Good. When we started from Corsica on the yacht, I brought along Vanessi."
"To take your place?"
"Yes. When we got to Valencia, we stayed in port for a day, and I stayed ashore when they left."
"The Lysistrata sailed on without you?"
"Exactly. Vanessi played Rico Corelli."
"And when they landed at Malaga, Vanessi was still playing Corelli?"
"Yes." He paused. "With the help of Tina Bergson."
"Did Vanessi go into Malaga?"
"No. He stayed on the yacht. We thought it would be better that way. Then there would be no slip-up. I mean, in case someone recognized him."
"Could anyone in Malaga identify you?"
"Not a chance," laughed Parson.
"Then?"
"Then you got in touch with Tina and she came in to meet you."
"Right."
"I figure somebody picked up your trail, followed you out to the yacht, got into the scuba gear, and made the hit."
"Who?"
"Moscato, of course. Who else? He knows all about me. And he must have had his eye on the yacht when it came in. He merely timed it while you were near the craft, to implicate you."
"Why didn't Moscato recognize you?"
"He knows about the yacht, about Tina, about the meeting with you people…"
"I see. But he didn't really recognize you."
"Right."
"And he made the hit and injured Tina."
"Thank God she wasn't killed!"
I watched him. He reached into his pocket and brought out a pack of American cigarettes. He lit one and waved out the match. Last time he had brought out a Spanish cigarette. But then, of course, he was playing the British secret agent, Barry Parson. He was a consummate actor, and knew how effective the right props were.
"How is she now?" I asked.
"You mean, what is the word from the clinic?"
"Yes." He knew.
"She's coming along."
"When will she be able to join you?"
He hesitated. "Soon."
"After we've had the meeting with my partner?"
"Right." He smiled. "Listen, Tina is part of the deal. You know that, don't you?"
"I do," I said. "But first, we want to meet and then we can discuss details."
He nodded. "That's all that matters now."
"One thing puzzles me."
"What?" The smoke drifted up in front of his face. In the windshield of the Renault I could see the reflection of his features as he puffed on the cigarette.
"How did you ever get on The Mosquito's trail in Torremolinos?"
He laughed. "Neat, huh?"
"Very neat." I paused. "Too neat."
His eyes slid to mine. "What're you saying?"
"I'm saying I can't buy your story all the way, Corelli. You break into a deal when I have The Mosquito cold, and then you play Barry Parson, secret agent. What gives?"
"Let's back up," Parson said seriously. "Look. I knew you were after The Mosquito. Granted?"
I nodded. "You could guess that, certainly. But why were you in Malaga in the first place? I mean, you, Rico Corelli. You were hiding out in Valencia. Why come down to Malaga to expose yourself unnecessarily?"
"Insurance," he said slowly.
"Insurance?"
"I was safe from the time I left the yacht in Valencia. You understand?"
I nodded.
"Okay. The heat was on the yacht till the minute the hit was made by The Mosquito. Right again?"
I considered. "All right. Let's assume that. You were supposed to be at Sol y Nieve at that point."
"That's what I told Tina."
"I guessed as much. I mean, why did it help to come to Malaga? That was my question."
"I wanted to find out more about you." He shrugged. "I mean, my life is wrapped up in a pretty little package. I'm going to the States. And you and that girl you've got there are my keepers. Right?"
"Right."
"So I wanted to see how you shape up.
There was a long silence. I stared at him coldly. He was watching me just as coldly.
"Where did you pick me up?" I asked.
He sighed. "All right. Look. You were on the prowl. I knew you were going to try to locate Moscato. Right?"
"I suppose so."
"I just waited around until I found you."
"Had you identified me before?"
"Oh, sure. I watched where Tina went."
"And then you followed Juana and me that night?"
"Sure, sure."
"To the villa."
"Right. By the time you hit that prostitute — the one that did the threesome with Moscato and the other broad — I knew we were in business. I just followed you."
"But why did you break in through that back way when I had Moscato dead to rights?"
His eyes held mine. "We all make mistakes, don't we?"
I shrugged. "Okay. But why the cover story, then?"
"The Barry Parson jazz? I just dusted that one off the shelf," he said, lapsing into Barry Parson's British accent. "And it seemed the thing to do at the moment. What am I going to do, come on strong and say, 'Well here I am, good old Rico Corelli! Now that doesn't make much sense, does it?"
I laughed. "I still don't like all this doubling up and tripling up. You could have made the contact right then and there with Juana. You slept with her there, and once again here. Why didn't you just give her the information, and have her check it out?"
He nipped the cigarette a moment and looked out through the windshield. The snow was falling, but more lightly now. I looked up and saw the reflection of our two faces peering out at the gloomy night.
His eyes were watching me.
"I never trust a bedroom," he said with a frown. "I mean, not even my own. That place I rented in Torremolinos. How do I know Moscato hadn't taped me even before I followed you to his place? After all, he thought he had killed me on the yacht. But maybe that was a trick. Right? Maybe it wasn't Moscato there, maybe Moscato had me figured all the time and was waiting for me. How could I know?"
I sat there.
"And this hotel. I don't trust anything. Not a thing. I think there are bugs in every room. I had to go through with the future meeting, because it was part of the initial plan. I do not like to deviate from initial plans, because it leaves too much to chance. Because we already knew each other, I simply played it cool and went right on from there. I'm sorry if it offended your sense of order."
It made sense.
"Now what?" I asked.
"We set up the meeting between the girl and me," said Parson, all business-like again. "To deliver the microfilm."