‘They’re saying we should step back from this whole Carter thing,’ said Cyril.
Hunter stared at the Detective Chief Superintendent, a big corpulent Yorkshire man, with thin greyish hair scraped back from his brow and a face like a hatchet. The two men had worked together for years. Whether things were going well or badly, Cyril always appeared the same. But today… something was different.
‘Step back?’ Hunter looked stunned. He was stunned. He’d been planning to haul Carter in for questioning later today, and now they were trying to yank him off it. ‘Who’s “they” anyway?’
‘The people who pay our fucking wages,’ said Cyril.
‘If they pay our wages, they should realize that we have to dig around in things. We can’t just “step back” when there are car bombs going off and people getting shot.’
Cyril leaned forward, two meaty fists planted on the desk. His man boobs, clad in tight white cotton, leaned forward too.
‘This isn’t a request, David. These are orders. Let the Max Carter thing go. Stand down.’
Hunter crossed his arms, shaking his head.
‘And don’t shake your bloody head at me! I told you, this is non-negotiable.’
‘I’d like something more solid than that.’ Hunter watched his boss curiously. ‘What is this, the secret bloody service or something?’
‘Or something, yes,’ said Cyril.
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘Does this face say “kidding”?’ Cyril sat back in his chair, letting out a sharp sigh. ‘Look. I’m telling you this because you’re a good bloke. I’ve had orders to leave this alone or it could compromise an ongoing investigation.’
‘A British investigation?’
‘Why do you ask?’
Hunter shrugged. ‘Annie Carter’s living in a house that she came by through marriage to an Italian-American “businessman”. And that businessman’s son is over here at the moment, staying with her.’
‘You know, you’d make a fucking great detective,’ smiled Cyril.
‘Is it something to do with that?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say.’
‘Christ, is it FBI?’
‘You didn’t hear that from me.’
‘They’re closing in on the son, I suppose – Alberto Barolli.’
‘He’s the main man now. The godfather. They’ve got a good case together and they reckon they could put him away for good.’
‘Shit.’
‘And they don’t want you arsing it up,’ said Cyril, nodding.