Hedy remembered a road like this: the Amalfi Coast. After an hour or so the car came to a stop, and doors opened and slammed. She was taken out of the trunk again and slung over what felt like the same shoulder. There were steel-like clangings, and she felt the gravity increase and heard the whine of machinery. An elevator, probably some sort of industrial one, hence the louder-than-usual noise as they climbed.

They climbed for what seemed a long time.

30

Jim Lugano answered his cell phone. “Lugano.”

“It’s Lance. What news of the girl?”

“Stone called, he’s had a partial text. She said she’s all right, but she was cut short. She’s a smart girl, apparently, she’s hidden her phone.”

“Smart indeed. Why haven’t we bagged these people? Couldn’t her position be nailed from the call?”

“Not enough time. We don’t yet know how they’re traveling. I hope they’re not in a car or truck, that would make it much more difficult. Rick has expanded his airport survey to every airport inside of fifty miles of Paris. We’re doing the same in Rome and Naples, but they could have landed anywhere—in a field, if they have the right plane—and switched to a vehicle. Confidence is not high.”

“I don’t like hearing that.”

“I don’t like feeling it.”

“Have the girl’s family been contacted?”

“Stone spoke to her stepfather, who turns out to be Arthur Steele, of insurance fame.”

“That makes me wonder why I haven’t heard from a senator or two.”

“He apparently has enough confidence in Stone to let him handle it.”

“Or enough indifference not to care much what happens to the girl.”

“I don’t think that. She has a mother he has to live with.”

“What’s our best hope, given what we know?”

“Another cell call or text, on the air long enough for us to locate. We don’t know how much cell reception she has at her destination, wherever that is, or how much of a charge she has left on the phone. It’s going to be dodgy.”

“Everything is always dodgy,” Lance said. “Keep in touch.” He hung up.

—

Stone looked up and was surprised to see Mike Freeman stride into Marcel’s living room. “What brings you across the Atlantic?” he asked.

“My two most important clients and my insurer’s daughter,” Mike said, sinking into a chair. A butler approached and inquired of everyone’s refreshment choices. A bottle of San Pellegrino satisfied them all.

Stone brought Mike up to date on the text message and Viv’s theory on where the phone was housed.

“Smart girl,” Mike said. “Stone, is she smart enough to keep her cool until we find her?”

“I think she’s already shown us that. I’ve sent her a text, so the next time she’s able to check the phone, she’ll know we’re looking for her. I hope we’ll get more information, too.”

“I hope she’s doesn’t end up in some remote farmhouse with no cell reception,” Mike said.

“I hadn’t thought of that. I guess I just take reception for granted, and I shouldn’t in this case.”

“It’s a thickly enough populated country to give us hope.”

—

Hedy woke up in a darkened room. She let her eyes become accustomed, then had a look around. She was no longer blindfolded but her hands and feet were tied. She was on a single bed in a small room, like a maid’s room. She spied a door ajar and hopped over to it, finding a small bathroom. She got her jeans down, retrieved the phone, and peed. She switched on the phone and got one dot of reception, on and off. She tried Stone’s number but couldn’t get through. She had less than fifty percent charge left. Why hadn’t she charged it last night? Stupid!

She composed a text message, in the hope that it might eventually get through: car, jet plane, car, windy road, A coast? Noisy elevator, high floor, small room, half battery, one dot. text back. She got back to the bed; she tucked the phone between the mattress and box spring. Then she slept again.

—

Stone felt his phone go off and checked for calls and messages. Nothing. It vibrated again but still nothing. Then the message. “Okay, everybody,” he announced, “Hedy has gotten through: she was put into a car, then a jet plane, then a car. She was on a windy road, maybe a coast, then had a long ride in a noisy elevator. She’s in a small room, half her battery is gone, and she has one dot of reception.”

“She’s not going to get a call out with one dot,” Mike said.

“The text seemed to take a couple of tries to get through.”

Stone’s phone rang.

“We got the message,” Lugano said, “but texts go out so fast we couldn’t nail even a general location, and Italy is mostly coast. Also, is ‘windy’ a winding road or one with a lot of wind? Either way, sounds like a coast road.”

“She may not even be in Italy,” Stone said. “She could be anywhere.”

“Sounds like a skyscraper under construction on a coast,” Dino said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Noisy elevator, maybe a construction site. You know those temporary elevators they throw up with scaffolding on the outside of a building under construction? Maybe an office building or a condo on the coast somewhere.”

“I wish she could be more specific,” Mike said.

“She’s told us everything she knows,” Stone remarked. “She’s doing her best.”

“Not good enough,” Dino said. “Not yet, anyway.”

31

Stone slept surprisingly well that night. Hedy was safe, and didn’t sound abused, and that gave him some comfort. On the other hand, it was maddening to hear from her and get so little information. He joined the others for breakfast, and Mike Freeman was there, too.

“Where are you staying, Mike?”

“At my office. There’s a little apartment there. Any messages from Hedy this morning?”

“Nothing—she probably slept.”

“I have a chopper available, and a hospital bed for her the minute we get her back,” Mike said.

“That’s good thinking.”

“I’ve had some research done on Casselli’s past, by our staff psychologist,” Mike said. “God knows, he’s ruthless, but our man doesn’t think he’ll hurt or kill Hedy.”

“I guess that’s good news.”

“The key seems to be, he’s pragmatic and seems unlikely to act so much from spite as from need, and he doesn’t need to harm her.”

“Makes sense.”

Jim Lugano turned up with some satellite photographs. “Here’s Casselli’s house on the Amalfi Coast,” he said, laying an enlargement on the dining table.

“No outside elevator necessary,” Stone said, pointing at the road to the house. “It’s drivable.”

“No signs of life there, and it’s the only house there owned by Casselli. He could be anywhere, but I would think he’d feel safer in Naples than anywhere else. It’s his home base, and he probably is more likely to have made inroads into the police there.”

“Is there any building in Naples that might jibe with the description of Hedy’s elevator ride?”

Jim got out his phone. “I’ll find out.” He punched in a number. “It’s Lugano. I want a survey of the coast in Naples, to identify a tall building under construction with a temporary elevator, perhaps a condo, hotel, or office building. We have a kidnapping victim who has furnished us with such a description, and it is imperative that we locate her soonest. Got it? Get back to me today.” He hung up. “We’re on it.”