Bloch watched as he moved diagonally across the square, expecting Slaton to vaporize into his surroundings. Instead, he veered to one side of the piazza. The priest was at the church now, overseeing the work crew who’d gone back to plastering what was clearly a Roman Catholic house, the Vatican having long ago wrapped things up here. Slaton steered toward the man and struck up a conversation, a curious back-and-forth that caused the priest to cock his head and put a thoughtful finger to his lips. It was as if Slaton had asked an unanswerable question. Finally, that default solution so often relied upon by men of God was given. The priest shook his head, raised his palms upward, and looked to the sky.

Slaton nodded appreciatively, as if to thank the father for his opinion, and then turned away toward the far side of the square. He picked up his pace over the cobblestone street, shouldered into a crowd at the central market, and in a flurry of white-shirted bronze men and barefoot children playing soccer, the kidon was quickly lost to sight.

Also by Ward Larsen

ALSO BY WARD LARSEN

The Perfect Assassin

About the Author

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ward Larsen is a two-time winner of the Florida Book Award. His work has been nominated for both the Edgar and Macavity awards. A former U.S. Air Force fighter pilot, Larsen flew more than twenty missions in Operation Desert Storm. He has also served as a federal law enforcement officer and is a trained aircraft accident investigator. His first thriller, The Perfect Assassin, is currently being adapted into a major motion picture by Amber Entertainment.