“Mr. Aoud,” Malone said, wondering if it sounded as silly to Willcoe as it did to him, “isn’t in. So I thought you might be able to arrange an appointment for this afternoon.”
Willcoe bit his lip. “Mr. Manelli isn’t in just now,” he said.
“Yes,” Malone said. “I didn’t think he would be. That’s why I want to arrange an appointment for later, when he will be in.”
“Does Mr. Manelli know you?” Willcoe said suspiciously, the wrinkles deepening again.
“He knows my boss,” Malone said carefully. “You just tell him that this is something that ought to be worth time and money to him. His time, and his money.”
“Hmm,” Willcoe said. “I see. Would you wait a moment, Mr. Mel—Mr. Malone?”
The screen blanked out immediately. The wait this time was slightly longer.
And the next face that appeared on the screen was that of Cesare “Big Cheese” Antonio Manelli, the nearly invisible cog.
For a cog, the face was not a bad one. It was strong and well-muscled, and it had dark, wavy hair running along the top. At the sides of the face, the hair was greying slightly, and behind the grey two large ears stuck out. Manelli’s nose was a long, faintly aquiline affair and his eyes were very pleasant and candid. They were light grey.
“Aha,” Manelli said. “You are Mr. Malone, right?” His voice was guttural, but it was obvious that he was trying for control. “I regret announcing that I was out, Mr. Malone,” he said. “But a man in my position—I like privacy, Mr. Malone, and I try to keep privacy for myself. Let me request you to answer a question, Mr. Malone: do I know you, Mr. Malone?”