"How?"

"Do you still have her face? The amba.s.sador's daughter?"

"Of course not," Leo said. "Your American counterpart didn't want her identified too readily. He was not pleased with the method chosen to delay that identification."

"And now they have her identified. In hindsight, it might have hastened the amba.s.sador's departure from Rome."

"I would think that he will be leaving now."

"See that he does."

Leonardo tipped his head, turned to leave.

"One more thing, Leo."

"Yes?"

Carlo's gaze remained focused out the window. "Find out who that woman was. The one who prevented Griffin's death. Let us send her her face to Griffin. Perhaps then they will realize the full import of our demands." face to Griffin. Perhaps then they will realize the full import of our demands."

Sydney watched from the alcove as the driver emerged from the hallway. "Mr. BMW," she whispered. "He's out."

She listened for Tex's voice, but it was Griffin's she heard over the transmitter. "Why the h.e.l.l isn't anything transmitting from the office?"

A slight hesitation, then Tex saying, "I couldn't activate it. I'm still outside the window."

"We call it off. I want you two out of there. Now."

"I can do it, Griff."

"That's an order, Tex. Out."

"Carlo's leaving," Sydney said. "I can see him in the hallway."

"Let me finish it, Griff."

"Negative," Griffin said. The driver walked directly toward Sydney, and she moved around the column as he strode past. When he continued on into the salon, she breathed a sigh of relief, only to step right into Carlo's line of sight just as he looked up.

"Hope springs eternal?" he said, when he neared her. "Dare I believe that you have changed your monogamous ways? Perhaps my enchanting little room changed your mind?"

"Or maybe that the wine has gone to my head and I've lost my way from the ladies' room?"

"I should have forgone the phone call, and brought you a bottle myself."

"I see you're the incorrigible type."

He grinned. "I try my best. More wine? I have a very special bottle of Vino n.o.bile di Montepulciano, Carpineto, 1991."

"As much as I'd love to, I'm waiting for my boyfriend, who just left to get me a drink of something cold and nonalcoholic."

"Then I'll wait with you."

"You should attend to your guests."

"As you can see, they're attending quite well to themselves," he said, looking up, waving his hand across the room. "Ah, my cousin," he said. "No doubt taken by your beauty."

Apparently his cousin and Mr. BMW were one and the same, and he was bearing down on them, a frown darkening his expression. In case he might recognize her, she turned away, keeping her back to him, hoping that he didn't see her. "I think I need a bit of fresh air. I've had entirely too much to drink."

"Carlo!" Mr. BMW called out, and she took off just as Carlo turned to find out what it was his cousin wanted.

She wove her way through several people, glanced over her shoulder, and saw the man running toward Carlo, a definite look of recognition on his face as he called out again. "I've been made," she said, hurrying toward the door.

"Tex?" Griffin's voice sounded scratchy. "Where the h.e.l.l are you?"

"Almost done, just making the connection."

"f.u.c.k the connection. Get out and get Sydney out. Now."

"Done. Hitting the window as we speak."

Sydney ran out the doors, grabbed two fistfuls of dress, yanking it up as she bounded down the steps. Heavy drops of rain hit her in the face. She glanced behind her, saw Carlo and Leonardo emerge through the doors. They hadn't yet seen her, and she ducked behind a sedan. "I could use a little help here, guys. They're on the steps, looking for me now."

Griffin said, "Get her the h.e.l.l out of there. Now Now."

"I'm working on it."

She heard Carlo shouting out to one of the valets, just as the sound of an engine revved. A moment later, a black Mercedes pulled up. "Hop in, darlin'," Tex said, as he threw the door open.

"Stop them!" she heard Carlo shout.

She jumped in, closed the door as he took off. Wheels screeched across the paved stones. She buckled her seat belt. "This isn't the Lancia we came in with."

"I was a little pressed for time. And this was parked in front of it. Lucky for us, all the keys are conveniently left in the ignition."

He sped toward the gates. Sydney glanced behind her, saw Carlo and Leonardo running toward the BMW that the valet was bringing around for them.

"We're going through," Tex said.

She turned, saw the gate, their car bearing down on it. Solid, ma.s.sive. A guard stood front and center, his gun out, pointed at them. Tex stabbed the gas pedal. The guard jumped back, fired.

The driver's window shattered. The Mercedes. .h.i.t the heavy wrought-iron gate. Metal crunched. The gate flew off, tumbled over the car, bounced onto the roof, then landed behind them, taking a couple of torches with it.

Tex slowed into the turn, maybe a bit too much. She glanced back, saw the BMW gaining on them. The Mercedes swerved, and Sydney grabbed the dash. "Tex?" She looked over. Saw him slumped in his seat. "Tex?" she yelled.

He didn't move. The car continued forward. The one working headlight lit up the curve in the road, the cliffs, and the lake below. She shook Tex's arm. No response. "Tex!"

"What's wrong?" Griff's voice in her ear.

She grabbed the wheel as the car gained momentum. Rain splattered against the windshield. She steered into the curve. The back end started sliding. Just reach the trees.

Please, not over the cliff. Anywhere but the cliff...

15.

Griffin stood on the cliff overlooking the sheer walls of the deep crater lake, the rain beating down on his coat. He brushed the water from his face, tried to keep his vision and senses clear as the of the deep crater lake, the rain beating down on his coat. He brushed the water from his face, tried to keep his vision and senses clear as the comandante comandante of the Nemi police questioned him in heavily accented English. "And what is it you are doing at Lake Nemi at such a late hour?" of the Nemi police questioned him in heavily accented English. "And what is it you are doing at Lake Nemi at such a late hour?"

"Writing an article on travel," Griffin called out over the wind. He'd already given the officer a fake U.S. pa.s.sport with the name Roger Reynolds, and apologized up front for not being able to speak a single word of Italian. "I saw the car go over the cliff and came up to see if I could do anything to a.s.sist."

"A gracious effort," the comandante comandante replied. "But as you can see, there is nothing to be done." replied. "But as you can see, there is nothing to be done."

An answer Griffin would have to be content with. Not even Giustino or Marc, two high-ranking carabinieri carabinieri, could step in, make their presence known at this time. Hence the delay in Griffin's arrival. He'd had to leave his team down in Nemi before coming up to investigate. By the time he'd arrived, the local police were already on the scene, and everything he'd gleaned was from overheard conversations and eavesdropping on their radio traffic. Apparently Carlo Adami was being questioned back at his villa. Adami's only admission was that a car was stolen and the guards shot at the driver. He was, however, allowing the police access to his grounds, small consolation, since the locals embraced Carlo, not realizing what he was truly involved in.

For now, all he could do was watch and wait. And hope Tex and Sydney were not lying at the bottom of the steep-cliffed volcanic lake.

There was no sign of the car, no sign of either of them. Just the report of a lone unidentified witness seeing the car with a single headlight go off the cliff.

"Signore?"

The comandante comandante stood there in the driving rain, waiting for Griffin to acknowledge him. But Griffin couldn't take his eyes off the lake below. Tex knew the dangers, knew what he was getting into when he'd come into the unit three years ago from the NSA. But they were wrong to a.s.sume that Sydney Fitzpatrick had the faintest idea, even if she was FBI. He should never have allowed her to a.s.sist. stood there in the driving rain, waiting for Griffin to acknowledge him. But Griffin couldn't take his eyes off the lake below. Tex knew the dangers, knew what he was getting into when he'd come into the unit three years ago from the NSA. But they were wrong to a.s.sume that Sydney Fitzpatrick had the faintest idea, even if she was FBI. He should never have allowed her to a.s.sist.

"Signore Reynolds," the comandante comandante shouted over the wind. "You should step away. There is nothing you could have done. Nothing." shouted over the wind. "You should step away. There is nothing you could have done. Nothing."

He laid his hand on Griffin's shoulder, tried to draw him away, but Griffin refused to move. "You'll send down divers?"

"As soon as the storm abates. For now you should go back to your hotel. If you like, you may call our office in the morning."

"Thank you."

Griffin stood there several minutes more at the cliff's edge, staring out over the lake, not even bothering to brush the rain from his face, wondering if Tex had left when ordered, perhaps this entire catastrophe could have been averted. "d.a.m.n you, Tex," he whispered, his voice lost in the wind. "Why didn't you listen?"

When there was no answer, he turned away, not giving up hope that his friend might still be alive, that Sydney might still be alive. The lights of the villa farther up the hill were visible, and he thought of Tex racing down the hill, recalled with acute clarity the panic he'd heard in Sydney's voice as she cried out for Tex to respond. What the h.e.l.l had happened up there?

h.e.l.l, he couldn't even figure out what had happened here. Between the rain and the cops trampling everything in their haste to respond to something they thought was a simple car accident, there was nothing left of the crime scene. Just mud and gra.s.s, he thought, walking back to the van, pulling open the door, sliding in, his mind turning about Sydney's panicked cry, again and again, trying to make sense of it.

There was no sense in death.

"d.a.m.n it, Tex," he said, then slammed his hand on the top of his steering wheel. It didn't lessen the pain, and knowing he still had a job to do, he turned the key in the ignition, switched on his headlights, and turned on the windshield wipers, listening to the rain beat down on the roof of the van. And that was when he saw the sparkle of something, like broken gla.s.s in the road in a place where no gla.s.s should be.

This was supposed to be a solo car accident.

He pulled forward slightly, and whatever he saw disappeared, so he shifted to park, engaged the emergency brake, then got out, kept his gaze fixed to the wet road. He walked up. His heart pounded in recognition.

A diamond bracelet. The one Sydney had been wearing when she'd dressed for the party. Here on the side of the road near the stand of bay trees. Not near the cliff where the car went over. Not anywhere it should have been, he thought, looking in both directions, before bending down, picking up the piece of jewelry from the pavement, noting the open clasp.

"Did you find something, signore signore?" the comandante comandante called out, walking over. called out, walking over.

Griffin palmed the bracelet, shook his head. "No," he said, casually dropping it into his pocket. "I thought I had, but it was a bottle top." He made a show of kicking at something, giving a shrug.

The comandante comandante nodded, went back to his work, and Griffin looked at the area just off the side of the road, saw the water sluicing down, turning the shoulder into mud. He strode back to the van, then took off, driving down the hill, when what he really wanted to do was drive up to the villa and search it room by room. nodded, went back to his work, and Griffin looked at the area just off the side of the road, saw the water sluicing down, turning the shoulder into mud. He strode back to the van, then took off, driving down the hill, when what he really wanted to do was drive up to the villa and search it room by room.

Only when he was out of view of the police did he pull over, turn on the cab light, and examine the bracelet. He had no idea if Sydney Fitzpatrick was still alive, but he was fairly certain of one thing. If this bracelet didn't go over the cliff, chances were good that neither did she.

She was smart, resourceful. Too resourceful at times.

The question now was had she survived?

Leonardo waited until the uniformed officer left Carlo's presence, and then, when he was sure they wouldn't be overheard, approached. "There was no identification on the woman. Just a small-caliber pistol in her purse."

"You are certain she was the same woman you saw at the hotel? The woman who a.s.sisted in the capture of Alonzo?"

"Yes."

Carlo smiled at a few of the guests still lingering about in the salone salone. "No one saw you bring her in?"

"No one. The reports are saying she went over the cliff."

"Prepare her for the Caligula room. The white robe."

"For you?"

"Tempting. But once we have her identified, I believe she will turn out to be someone I desire to link to one or more of our important initiates before her demise," he said, nodding toward the loggia, where a group of men stood smoking cigars and drinking iced vodka, watching the rain beat down.

Leonardo eyed the men, no doubt discussing their common bond, world banking. "And her friend? The driver of the car?"

"Let me think on this. Considering his alleged alleged Masonic background, perhaps we should make him a warning to our distinguished guests on what they can expect should anyone violate the oath of secrecy and our activities find an audience outside of our circle." Masonic background, perhaps we should make him a warning to our distinguished guests on what they can expect should anyone violate the oath of secrecy and our activities find an audience outside of our circle."

Sydney opened her eyes, or thought she did, but saw nothing. Her head pounded, a sharp pain-unlike anything she'd ever felt-zinged across the back of her scalp when she tried to move, and she hurt all over. More importantly, her limbs failed to obey her commands.

She was either paralyzed, dead, or dreaming. The fact she felt pain in her head pretty much eliminated the last two choices as a possibility, and pain or no pain, since she could struggle, only not move, she was discounting the whole paralyzed thing. At the moment, a couple of those choices seemed preferable to what her instincts were telling her, especially when something scuttled across her legs. Though her head pounded with the movement, she tried kicking out, hoping to discourage any more visiting creatures. She hated the dark.

"Tex?" Her whisper seemed to echo off the walls, then disappear into hardening silence. The d.a.m.ned dark kept her from seeing whether they'd brought Tex in. He'd either been shot or knocked unconscious when the gate hit the car, and she knew he needed help. But who would come here looking for them, wherever here was? Maybe she was in a hospital, sedated after the crash. Unfortunately, this sure as h.e.l.l didn't smell like any hospital bed she'd ever been in. It smelled of must and mold of some long-forgotten place. And she felt stones beneath her on the floor, cold and hard. Once again she tried to move, gritted her teeth against the pain, only then realizing what was wrong. Her arms were tied behind her, trussed to her feet. She'd survived the crash of the car, only to be taken captive. She tried scooting across the ground, sc.r.a.ping her arm and leg in the process. Her foot hit the wall, then something leaning against it. It fell across her legs, clattering to the ground with a ringing echo.