"But what about the information Corelli is supposed to give us?"
"We don t need it."
"You don't need it," Juana pleaded, "but I do! I'm the one who was sent here to get it. You're only a bodyguard!"
I glanced at Tina to see how she was taking our little dramatic improvisation. She had turned into a spectator at a fast tennis match.
"I'll contact AXE," I growled, doing a kind of late-vintage Bogart. "The mission is scrubbed!"
"Let me talk to them!" Juana said, becoming agitated now. "I've a great deal at stake in this!"
"We shouldn't be talking in front of her," I said grudgingly, waving at Tina.
"I don't care who hears! This is my assignment!"
I considered, pretending to weigh the consequences. Finally I said, "Are you really willing to go on and meet Corelli?"
Juana nodded. "Of course! Just because you fouled up the first encounter…"
"And you?" I interrupted, turning to Tina. "What guarantee can you give us that well be meeting the real Corelli at Sierra Nevada?"
"I've already told you! You'll know when you get the correct information."
I shrugged.
Juana burst in, "We've got to meet Corelli," she said. "It's terribly important to me!"
"Good girl," I thought. Keeping my face impassive I leaned down over Tina. "We'll give it one more try."
She closed her eyes in relief and smiled.
"You'll have to cooperate closely with us, Tina," I told her. "There's no reason to assume that the killer will go home now. He'll want to kill you, too."
Juana frowned. "Why? If he was paid to kill Rico Corelli, he's worked out his contract."
"But he's bound to find out about his mistake. The Mafia knows Corelli isn't dead — or will very soon. Then the hit man will be after Tina — to lead him to Corelli!"
Tina sniffled.
"We'll put a guard on this room," I announced. "I'll tell Mitch Kelly."
"But a trained killer can get in anywhere. How will the guard know who to watch out for?" Juana asked.
I frowned. "We have no idea who the killer is. He'll just have to keep everybody out."
"But we do know," said Tina suddenly, sitting up and wincing with pain at the sudden movement.
Juana and I turned to her with our mouths open. "Do know what?"
"Who the killer is. He's a man called The Mosquito. It must be. He's a professional murderer. His real name is Alfreddo Moscato."
"How do you know?"
"Because a hired killer tried to penetrate Rico's villa in Corsica six months ago. There were a lot of traps and devices along the walls, so he could not get in. But when he tried, he tripped wires that took infrared pictures. Rico had the pictures developed and he found out it was Moscato."
"Does Rico Corelli know Moscato?"
"No. They never saw each other. One of Rico's people recognized Moscato."
"Then you re saying that Moscato does not know Corelli by sight, and he thinks he has killed him."
Tina nodded. "I didn't think of that, but, yes, I'd say so."
"What else do you know about Moscato? Anything that might help us identify him?"
Tina's face turned pink. "He likes girls a lot," she admitted.
"Anything more than that?"
"He likes them in pairs," Tina blurted out, embarrassed.
"In pairs?" I asked with amusement.
"It isn't funny!" snapped Juana.
I turned back to Tina. "He has a habit of triple-decker sex?"
"Yes," said Tina. "It's a thing with him. He does it every time before he goes out on a job. It loosens him up."
"Maybe we can use that knowledge to find him before he finds us."
"Finds us?" Juana repeated blankly.
"He's certainly going to try to pick up the trail to Corelli again. Because he doesn't know him on sight." I stared at the shuttered window. "And the easiest way for him to pick up Corelli is to watch us."
Juana's eyes lit up. "Then we make ourselves obvious in Malaga, and he comes after us."
"No. We go find him first." But there was something else I had to straighten out. "Tina, how am I going to contact the real Corelli?"
She turned away. "You'll have to wait until he calls me."
"But how will he know where you are — I mean, hidden away in this special clinic?"
She shrugged. "He will. I can guarantee it"
"I don't want to go up to the ski resort and sit there waiting for him," I said.
"The doctor says I'll be all right in a few days."
I nodded. "Then we'll wait. Meanwhile, we'll try to swat The Mosquito. I'd like to see him out of circulation while we're working this meet."
I briefed Mitch Kelly quickly, and he was on the phone in a minute conning the Malaga Commandant into assigning a member of the Guardia Civil to watch over Tina Bergson. On the drive to the hotel I filled Kelly in on the direction the operation had taken.
He said he hadn't heard that The Mosquito was in Malaga, but of course he had put out no feelers in that area. He seemed to think I was criticizing him. I assured him I wasn't.
"The underworld," he said. "Why don't you take a look?"
"What underworld?"
"The Malaga stews," he said. "That's where they'd know about The Mosquito. Hell, you and Juana look perfectly legit. You could be a couple of swinging expatriots trying to hire a bodyguard. I've got a contract who knows the stews inside out. His name is Diego Pérez. Look, I'll send him to you this evening. He'll squire you around."
I glanced at Juana, all prim and uptight about my male chauvinism.
"Okay. Let's take a shot at it."
We finished the ride in silence.
As soon as we got back to the hotel I heard my phone ringing.
It was Kelly.
"One. I've set up the deal with Diego."
"Good."
"He's five feet seven, smooth-looking, tiny mustache, and very intelligent. Don't let tie fancy exterior fool you."
"Right"
"Two. I just decoded a signal from Interpol."
"Interpol?"
"I sent them a description of the dead man, along with prints. It's not Corelli. It's Vanessi all right"
I nodded. "Then Tina is telling the truth."
"Yes. Good luck tonight, Nick."
Diego Pérez turned out to be exactly what Mitch Kelly had described — a smooth-looking escort type who wore flashy but right clothes and kept up a steady stream of inconsequential conversation to amuse the ladies, in this case, Juana Rivera.
"I am Diego Pérez," he told me when I let him in.
"How do you do?" I said. "This is my wife Juana."
"A lovely lady," he said bowing. I sneaked a glance at Juana. She was trying to keep her face stiff, but I could see temper flaring inside. She suspected I might be laughing at her.
"Mr. Kelly has told me the object of our evening," Diego said briefly, giving me a significant glance.
"Where do we start?" I asked.
He named a place, and we called a cab and got in. Diego sat with Juana, beaming and making small talk in Spanish and then in English. I stared out the window.
In Malaga you would not really know where the stews began and the clubs ended. We started at a restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean just beside the harbor in a section of the town called La Malagueta. The sun sank over the surface of the Mediterranean, and we ate our sea food and drank our wine and cognac. The waiters lit the candles set up in colored glasses and night settled down.
"I have an idea, Diego," I said.
"An idea?" Diego began to smile. He liked intrigue.
"I am a wealthy American tourist. You can tell by the way I throw my money around. I am out with my wife. But I am bored with my wife. I want not just a simple peasant girl to take to bed. I want two!"