“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.
“It might still cost you your life,” he said.
“For a gal like Sue,” said the Saint lightly, “I wouldn’t call that expensive.”