The Consultant's Italian Knight. Maggie Kingsley

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СКАЧАТЬ If she’d thought he was big and intimidating in the treatment room, it was as nothing to how big and intimidating he felt when he was standing toe to toe with her in a cupboard.

      ‘Cosy, isn’t it?’ he said, as though he’d read her mind, and her chin came up.

      He was laughing at her again—she knew he was—and she’d had enough of him laughing at her. More than enough.

      ‘Look, can we get on with this?’ she demanded.

      ‘Fine by me,’ he said, extracting a small black notebook from his pocket and elbowing her in the ribs in the process. ‘OK, tell me exactly what Hamilton said.’

      With an effort she forced herself to think of nothing but the few minutes she’d spent alone with Duncan Hamilton.

      ‘First he told me some names. Di Angelis was one, and Mackay was another. Fascali—’ She frowned. ‘No, that’s not right. Faranelli. Yes, that was it. Faranelli.’

      ‘Any other names?’ he said, his pen flashing across the page of his notebook.

      ‘There was one more. It was the name of a town, but…’ She thought hard, and eventually shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, it’s gone.’

      ‘Don’t worry about it. It might come back to you later. Tell me the addresses.’

      ‘Inspector Volante,’ she protested. ‘Duncan Hamilton had pulled off his ambu-bag, and I was trying to get it back on again so I wasn’t really listening.’

      ‘Please,’ he insisted. ‘Anything you can tell me—anything at all—might be vitally important.’

      His blue eyes were fixed on her, searching, intent, and she swallowed hard. Concentrate, Kate. Concentrate.

      He has beautiful eyes.

      No, not on that. Concentrate on remembering what Duncan Hamilton told you.

      ‘He mentioned a house in Mount Stewart Street,’ she said quickly. ‘Number 6, I think. And somewhere in Lansdowne Drive. Number 4—or maybe it was number 5. Then there was 55 Cedar Way, and somewhere in Picard Avenue, and…’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t remember any more.’

      ‘You’ve done very well,’ he replied, snapping shut his notebook.

      ‘I just wish I could have saved Duncan Hamilton’s life,’ she murmured.

      ‘Once a packet bursts, it’s odds on that the body-packer will die.’

      ‘Then why in the world would anyone choose to do it?’ she protested, and he shrugged.

      ‘Because money can be a very powerful persuader if you’re poor and up to your eyeballs in debt.’

      ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘And they don’t all do it for the money,’ he continued. ‘Some of them are offered safe passage into a country that wouldn’t take them if they tried the legal, immigration route, and others do it because their family members are being held as collateral to ensure their cooperation.’

      ‘But that’s blackmail,’ she gasped, and he smiled a smile that held no warmth at all.

      ‘Welcome to the twenty-first century, Doctor.’

      ‘Are you always this cynical?’ she exclaimed before she could stop herself, and his eyebrows rose.

      ‘No, I’m not. According to a very reliable source, I’m also occasionally a complete and utter bastard.’

      ‘Then maybe it’s time you got out more,’ she said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. ‘Opened your eyes, smelt the flowers, and saw what a beautiful world this can be.’

      ‘Despite all the wars, famines, drugs, unnecessary deaths and diseases?’ he observed.

      ‘Despite even that,’ she said stoutly, and to her surprise he smiled again, but this time it was the smile which completely softened his face.

      The smile which stupidly—ridiculously—made her wish she’d made time for that hairdresser’s appointment, lost some weight, maybe even bought herself a new blouse. Something pretty, feminine, and…

      She really had to get a grip. Good grief, her divorce had only just come through this morning, and just because this man was standing close to her—so very close—and smiling that smile…

      He was probably married, with umpteen kids, and, even if he wasn’t one look at him should have been enough to tell her she’d be toast if she ever got involved with him.

      ‘Look, can we get out of this cupboard now?’ she exclaimed.

      ‘What?’

      ‘This cupboard—I don’t think we need to be in here any more, do you?’

      ‘Probably not, but I was kind of beginning to enjoy it.’

      He was also enjoying wrong-footing her, she realised, seeing the glint of laughter in his blue eyes, but she wasn’t going to play. Not when she had the very decided feeling that she would lose.

      ‘If there’s nothing else, I really do have to get back to work,’ she said, reaching for the door handle only to feel an annoying jolt of sensation as her arm brushed across his chest.

      ‘There’s just a couple more things,’ he replied. ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell anybody what you’ve told me, and I’d also prefer it if you didn’t tell your colleagues that Ralph Evanton and I are policemen. The fewer people who know anything about what happened here tonight the better.’

      ‘That’s fine by me,’ she said but, as she opened the cupboard door, and squeezed past him, her heart sank.

      Terri was standing outside in the treatment room, and it was all too obvious from the look on her face that she’d got completely the wrong idea of what she and Inspector Volante might have been getting up to in the cupboard.

      ‘Terri, this is…’

      Kate came to a halt. If she was not supposed to say who he was, then how on earth was she supposed to introduce him?

      ‘I’m Mario Volante,’ he declared, coming to her rescue. ‘An old friend of Dr Kennedy’s. A very old friend.’

      He’d said that deliberately, Kate thought angrily, seeing Terri’s eyes glance from her to Mario avidly. He’d said that on purpose, knowing full well that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—contradict him, but she wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

      ‘Shouldn’t you be going?’ she said sweetly. ‘You don’t want to be late for your over forties reunion.’

      ‘Oh, nice one,’ Mario said, his face lighting up with genuine amusement. ‘She’s just kidding,’ he continued, flashing a smile across at Terri. ‘She knows very well that I’m only thirty-eight, but she’s right about me having to go.’

      ‘Must you?’ Terri protested, and he nodded.

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