Luigi Amedeo nodded. "Most certainly," he said, and rose to escort Malcolm from his home.
* * *
Back at the Invicta, Malcolm glanced at his desk, piled high with papers, memos and notes. On top of his workstation was a yellow post-it from Paul: he was flying to Montreal, following a lead on the Caldwell's investments in Europe. Malcolm sat in front of his empty aquarium, looking for inspiration.
One of his men was dead, another was still recovering from his wounds. Judith was stuck with Tanya, his only other female agent was about to get married. Paul was away, and Joe, as usual, was nowhere to be found. Malcolm sighed and felt slightly sorry for himself.
He considered Tanya's case: he had two suspects, the Italian count and her lover. The police had no more than he had. The situation wasn't one of the best, he thought, then decided to give his weekly call to Detective Warner of the Vermeil Police Station.
If we have nothing else to chat about, he thought, I can tell him what I think of the last man he recommended to me.
"Malcolm," Warner said. "I was just about to call you. This very moment."
"About the Caldwell case?"
"Yes. The police in Genova knew her real identity late in the spring. We both agreed not to pass that information to anybody. Correct?" Warner paused, cleared his throat. "Only our offices knew, correct?"
"Right," Malcolm replied. "Right. We need to discover how the leak came about, if it were accidental, or if-"
"I'm already digging on this side," Warner said.
"I'll do the same." Malcolm hung up the phone and sat staring into space.