Only one person had Lincoln's emergency number, and she knew not to call it unless there was no other option. It was primarily something meant to be used by him when he needed aid, not the other way around. Otherwise, it stayed closed.
Lincoln had been in the fold altogether since shortly after he'd arrived and taken this on as a case. He'd been building the evidence and the trust for awhile, and now he was there physically to get the 'smoking gun' he needed to wrap it all up in a neat little bow.
He was dressed nicely, on his way to dinner. The sound of his phone ringing made is brow furrow imperceptibly. "Hold on a second, love." He placed a hand over the mouthpiece to look to his companions, speaking in an amused, fluent Italian as he told them his woman was calling and to give him a moment. They laughed and moved on, and he stepped aside once they were in the elevator to answer. Once the coast was effectively clear-- "I'm on my way to dinner, B. What's going on?" He kept his tone light and conversational, just in case.