Читать книгу The President’s Daughter - Jack Higgins, Justin Richards - Страница 11

Salinas was a scattering of houses, a harbour enclosed by two jetties and jammed with small fishing boats. Luigi drove along the waterfront and stopped outside the establishment with the sign over the door that said English Café.

‘God knows why it has this name,’ Luigi said.

‘Perhaps they serve a full English breakfast,’ Dillon said. ‘English tourists like that.’

‘What tourists?’ Luigi said, and shrugged. ‘Anyway, here you are. I’ll just turn round and drive back to Palermo.’

They got out and Hannah shook his hand. ‘Grateful thanks, Sergeant. One cop to another.’ She smiled and kissed him on the cheek and he drove away.

Dillon led the way up the steps. The night was warm, and as darkness fell, there were lights on some of the boats out in the harbour. He opened the door and went in. Half a dozen fishermen were at the bar and it was a poor sort of place, very hot and the ceiling fan didn’t seem to be working.

He waved to the barman and turned to the others. ‘It’s a dump. Let’s sit outside.’

They did just that, taking a table by the veranda rail, and the barman appeared. ‘What have you got to eat?’ Hannah asked him in Italian.

‘We only do one main dish each day, signorina. Tonight it’s cannelloni ripieni. The way our chef does it, there’s a special stuffing of savoury meat and onions. You could have a salad with it.’

‘Good, and bring us a bottle of wine,’ Dillon told him. ‘Something cold.’