Mission In Malta by Deborah Abela Page B

in career.’ Linden tucked into an apricot Danish and stared at Alfonzo, who was in the middle of a photo shoot and interview. All around him were journalists with microphones, notebooks and recording devices; photographers and bright lights, as well as the regular stream of swooning admirers.
    â€˜How can he stand all that attention?’ Max slipped her notebook into her pack.
    â€˜It’d be hard having all those women running after you, but I’d get used to it after a while. All in the name of science, of course.’ Linden shook his head, movie star style. ‘Have you heard back from Steinberger?’
    â€˜No, not yet. Hopefully what we sent him will be enough for an ID.’
    After Max’s fall from the balcony the previous night, she and Linden had met back at her hotel room and, using her palm computer, contactedSteinberger under the protective cover of the Shush Zone. Via the USB port on her computer, Max sent him the MP3 recording and vision of the two men, and Steinberger promised to get back to them as soon as he could with a possible identification.
    â€˜So do you think your fall from the balcony was accidental or one of Alfonzo’s “accidents” of the piano falling kind?’
    Max looked at the swarming crowds around Alfonzo. ‘Oh, it was accidental. Those leech fans were so excited about meeting their idol, they didn’t even notice I was there. Aah!’
    â€˜Sorry to startle you. It’s only us.’ Alfonzo stood beside Max with Edgar’s tank only centimetres from her face. ‘It’s time to give my first lecture and Edgar has agreed to help me out, haven’t you, little fella?’
    Max stepped away from Edgar, who stood on one end and flung himself towards her with the entire reach of his slimy, contorting body.
    â€˜Look, he’s happy to see you.’ Alfonzo brightened.
    â€˜Sure he is.’ Max looked away from Edgar and tried to shake off the creepy feeling of him wanting to slime all over her. ‘Who is Mr Happy over there?’Max pointed at the toe-stomping man who was squeezing into a giant pile of croissants before finally choosing one and shoving it in his mouth.
    â€˜Gregor Straussmann. A fellow leech expert. Very good at what he does too.’
    â€˜And pleasant to work with?’ Linden finished his Danish.
    Alfonzo smiled. ‘We can’t be all things to all people.’
    â€˜That’s what my mum used to say,’ Linden said.
    â€˜Maybe not all things,’ Max complained, ‘but a few manners wouldn’t be so bad.’
    A voice floated above them, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats for the first session of the day.’
    A bustle of coffee and tea drinking, face wiping and excited movement filled the room.
    â€˜Your big moment is here, my lovely,’ Alfonzo spoke to Edgar.
    â€˜Big moment.’ Straussmann stood behind them. ‘Quick, everyone come and see the famous expert.’
    â€˜Good morning, Gregor. Nice to see you again,’ Alfonzo offered.
    Straussmann met Alfonzo’s gaze with an iron-cold look before grunting and walking away.
    â€˜Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, doesn’t he?’ Max sneered.
    â€˜We’re ready for you, Mr Martina.’ A woman with a clipboard tapped Alfonzo gently on the elbow. ‘And your big announcement.’
    â€˜Announcement?’ Linden asked.
    â€˜My colleagues and I have come much closer to linking our research with leeches to the prevention of the spread of cancer,’ he buzzed.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Mr Martina,’ the woman breathed, ‘we really do have to go.’
    â€˜Certainly,’ Alfonzo replied. ‘Come on, my sweet. We don’t want to keep everyone waiting.’ Alfonzo tucked Edgar firmly under his arm before following the woman into the theatrette.
    Max sighed. ‘Why do all the brilliant people I know treat their animals as if they’re