Fontana sucked a last drag out of his cigarette and flicked it away. “Listen, I don’t want to know what you’re after on that German ship. I’ve done what the boss wanted me to do here: make it possible for you to get on board. It’s not going to be easy, but Tom Wylie’s the man to do it. I’ll see him this evening and explain to him what’s wanted and brief you on the plan straight after. Ok?”
“Meet me in the back bar of the Albert at nine o’clock. It’s Saturday, so it’ll be busy. And noisy. No-one will pay us any attention.”
Fontana gave a mirthless little laugh. “You’ll find out when the time comes and not before. I mean to stick to the rules even if you don’t. The boss doesn’t like deviations.”
“But he isn’t here, is he, to worry about how we get the job done?”
“Not here? Well, that depends on exactly what you mean by ‘here.’ I often feel he’s looking over my shoulder watching what I do.”
“Do you feel that now?”
Fontana lit another cigarette and contemplated Max as he drew on it. “You should feel that now. It’d be good for you. Stop you taking too many chances. This is your first big job for him, isn’t it? If you want to live to do another, you need to be more careful. That’s my advice. I’ll see you later.”