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“You’re going to have to tell me what it is between you two sometime.” He frowned. Time to put her on the spot. “Who did you meet this morning who gave you Azzopardi’s name?”

“Can I plead client confidentiality?” She scrunched up her nose before walking off.

“The only client who counts is Sophie.”

She glanced at him. “Papa supplied my date and time of arrival, although I didn’t share that information with him.”

“It wouldn’t have been hard to find out.” He fell into step beside her. “He could have checked with your office.”

“He probably did. But he could have handled it another way. Given me your details and the option to get in touch.”

“In his fear, his need to know, he rushed things.” Hamish wasn’t prepared to condemn Vella’s actions yet, but Hamish would contact his office and request more due diligence on the material Vella had supplied. Hamish’s reputation mattered to him.

“Rushing, I understand. I did it myself, but there’s more here.”

“You’re holding back as well. Didn’t you pay attention in Marty’s office?” He resumed walking up the hill, frustrated by the unanswered questions. “I don’t play games.”

* * *

LELA DIDN’T WANT TOfight him anymore. Tired of trying to second guess her father, desperate to know Sophie was safe, exhaustion caught her in a slow, rolling wave. She trudged behind him. Riding an emotional rollercoaster was her only excuse for her uncharacteristic sharing of confidences. Hamish Beauregard MacGregor was a stranger, but she was finding it increasingly hard to see him as an enemy. “Is the hotel far away? I’d like to take a few hours off.”

“Around the bend and up the hill.” He glanced back at her. “Did you get much sleep last night?”

“It doesn’t feel like it now.” She halted, groaning at the distance between their current spot and the hotel entrance. “Plus, I need to think, check more facts and make a few phone calls.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Maybe.

Her contact at the Maltese charity had vouched for Martin Azzopardi, who’d in turn vouched for Hamish MacGregor. MacGregor had taken her father on trust, and who could blame him? If MacGregor had as much integrity as everyone claimed, then he’d make an independent assessment of the facts. He’d protect Sophie’s interests, but Lela wasn’t sure she had time to wait for him to work out Papa’s end game.

Halfway up the hill, Hamish changed direction towards huge doors flung open at the back of the hotel. Conference attendees on a break spilled out of their exhibition hall. He tugged her through the crowd and bizarrely down one flight of stairs to the lobby.

“That saved us a long last climb,” he said. “I’ll meet you here at seven.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“You have to eat. I know a few good local restaurants. You’ll brood if you spend all your time alone.”

“If I nap now,” she replied tartly, “I might need to work later.”

“We’ve already had this conversation. Can’t take a break from merchant banking, even for a few days?”

“It’s legal.”

“I don’t doubt it’s legal. Is it moral?”

“Were you staying in this hotel before you accepted my father’s commission, MacGregor?”

“Yes.”

“You clearly don’t despise making money either. I abhor hypocrisy.”

He grinned. “And you, Miranda, are ferociously direct.”

“No need to hold back. Growing up I was called impolite and rude, but my favourites were unladylike and unwomanly. Now, I’m assertive.”

“I’m guessing the first lot came from your Maltese aunty and the second from some chauvinistic diehards in your workplace.” He shook his head. “You need to mix with a better crowd.”