Simon Templar drew at his cigarette, holding it with fingers that were almost self-consciously steady. The naturally devil-may-care lines of his strong reckless face might never have known laughter. He faced the set-up in all its naked ugliness. A memory of Sue Inverest’s gay clean-limbed confident youth slid across his mind, and his stomach curled again momentarily.
Then his eyes went to the sleek Inspector.
“But if it’s as open as all that,” he said, “why haven’t you picked up Tony Unciello?”
“It is not so easy,” Buono said stonily. “Unciello has dropped out of sight since several days. You understand, there was nothing against him here, so he is not watched all the time. Now, he cannot be found. We look for him, of course, but it is not a simple matter of going to his apartment. He is hiding.”
“And you haven’t any idea where to look.”
“It is not made easy for us.”
“What Inspector Buono isn’t saying,” Inverest put in, “is that the Unciellos are both members of the Mafia. Tony himself is reputed to be one of the very top men. Perhaps you don’t know what a stranglehold that terroristic secret society has on this country. Nobody knows how many members there are, but at least three-quarters of the population are scared to death of them. If a man of Unciello’s class wants to disappear, there are thousands who would help to hide him, and literally millions who wouldn’t betray him if they knew where he was.”
The Saint took another long drag at his cigarette. He tilted his head back and exhaled the smoke in a trickle of seemingly inexhaustible duration, watching it with rapt lazy-lidded blue eyes.
“Just the same,” he said, “I think I know how to find him.”
3
It was as if he had hit them with a paralysis ray out of some science-fiction story. Hudson Inverest stiffened where he sat. Inspector Buono made one sharp jerky movement and then froze.
“Do you mean you know more about this man than you’ve told us?” Inverest said.
Simon nodded.
“Funny things happen when you’re knocked out,” he said. “I was hit on the head, and I went down like a wet rag. But I didn’t black out all at once. My eyes must have gone on working for several seconds, like a camera with the shutter left open, before I passed out completely. And then, when I first recovered consciousness, I’d forgotten all about what I saw. Now it’s suddenly all come back — as if the film had been developed. I know I can find Tony Unciello.”
“What did you see?” Buono demanded.
Simon looked him in the eyes.
“I can’t tell you.”
“I do not understand you, Signor!”
“What I saw happens to be something that wouldn’t be any use at all to anyone else. I’m the only man in the world who could use it. So I shall keep it to myself — until I’ve found Tony. I don’t think it’ll take very long.”
“That is absurd!” Buono insisted waspishly. “I insist that you tell us how you propose to do this.”
The Saint turned to Inverest.
“I will tell you, sir, in private, and let you be the judge. But I’m quite sure you’ll agree with me. You see, what I know has some really shocking political complications. If it leaked out, the international repercussions would be bigger than an atom bomb. If you knew what I know, you’d be the first to order me to keep my mouth shut.”
Inspector Buono bounced to his feet.
“It is against the law to conceal information about a crime from the police,” he said furiously. “This alters everything. I shall refuse to release you!”
Inverest gazed at the Saint intently from under lowered brows.
“He has already been released,” he pointed out at length. “Furthermore, as regards anything that has transpired since then, I must inform you that Mr Templar has just been appointed a special attaché to the American Embassy, and therefore claims diplomatic immunity.” He stood up. “I shall communicate with you later, Inspector, if I decide that Mr Templar’s information should be disclosed. Come, Mr Templar.”
He gestured with his shiny top hat towards the door, and Simon went and opened it.
The Secretary of State stalked out without a backward glance, but Simon Templar could not resist turning to give the baffled Inspector a mocking bow before he followed.
Uniformed guards outside saluted them into a waiting black limousine with CD plates and the Stars and Stripes fluttering from a little mast on the hood. It was the finest exit the Saint had ever made from any police station, and he would treasure the remembrance for the rest of his life — however long that might be.
“The driver is an Italian,” Inverest said. “Better wait until we’re alone.”
Simon nodded, and said nothing more until the door had closed behind them in the office at the Embassy which had been placed at the Secretary’s disposal.
“Well, Mr Templar,” Inverest said, dropping his hat and gloves on the desk, “you’ve placed me in a most peculiar position. Unless you have something extraordinary up your sleeve, I might well deserve to be impeached. All that talk of yours about international complications, of course, was arrant nonsense.”
“You realized that, did you?”
“I’m not completely naive.”
“After what you said about the Mafia,” Simon explained, “I couldn’t take any chances. Not even in police headquarters. It’d only take one tiny leak to blow the whole works. And that’d mean goodbye to Sue.”
“That’s understood,” Inverest said brusquely. “I took the risk of backing you up. But what is it that you know?”
Simon took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. Then he took out his lighter and held it poised.
“Nothing.”
He lighted the cigarette.
Hudson Inverest’s features seemed to crumple from inside, as if he had received a physical blow. He sank slowly into a chair.
“Good God, man,” he cried shakily. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know a thing. I haven’t a clue. I was knocked cold on the spot, and that was the end of it. But,” Simon went on quickly, “nobody knows that except you and me.”
Inverest clasped his hands together as if to steady them.
“Go on.”
“If there’s a leak in the police department,” said the Saint, “so much the better. It’ll make the story that much more convincing when it gets to Tony. But we’re not going to gamble on that chance alone. I want you to call in your public relations boys and tell them to see that every newspaper in Rome gets the story. Let ’em be as mysterious as they like, but sell it big. Then we’ll know for sure that Tony Unciello will hear it. His men already know that they slugged a guy who was with Sue, but they didn’t know who it was. My name’ll hit them with a big bang. I think it’ll make ’em believe almost anything.”
“But if they do believe it,” Inverest said, “what good will it do? They’ll just shoot you down in the street.”
Simon shrugged.
“That’s quite a possibility. But I’m betting on the angle of curiosity. I don’t think a man like Unciello could bear never to know what this one thing was that I had on him. So I think he’ll want me taken alive.”
“Even so,” Inverest protested, “if they catch you and take you to him — what would you be able to do?”
“I’ll try to think of that when the time comes.” Simon stood over the older man, very lean and straight, and something like the strength of a sword invested him. “But it’s the only chance we’ve got of finding your daughter. You’ve got to let me try it.”
The statesman blinked up at him, trying to dispel a ridiculous illusion that a musketeer’s feather tossed above that impossibly handsome face.