A cello bridge has two arched feet that rest on top of the instrument and a heart-shaped hole carved in its center. The thin piece of maple provides the ideal medium for sound: it carries wire strings on its back and transfers their vibration into the body of the instrument—and music comes out the other end. All this Orfeo knew from his earliest years of musical instruction. But the bridge he held in his hand now seemed almost an alien object. The heart shape surprised him; he’d never really thought about it before; and the wood felt so light, so flimsy, yet apparently indestructible.

Orfeo closed his palm over the wood; it fit perfectly in his hand. He brought the bridge to his face and inhaled the maple, then turned to the man in the jumpsuit.

May I keep it? he asked.

The man in the jumpsuit held a finger in the air.

One second, he said and disappeared again.

He returned a moment later with a clipboard and handed it to the Bulgarian.

Where are you staying? he asked.

Orfeo turned to Ana.

Trachis Inn, she answered.

We can return it to you there in two days. Or we can send it to your home later.

Orfeo placed the bridge lovingly back in its plastic bag, sealed the top, and handed it across to the man.

I will wait for it, he said, at the inn.

Outside, in the sharp afternoon light, Pars Mansoor smoked a cigarette in the parking lot. He’d found his niece’s passport; he’d found her carry-on bag (the label was still attached). He’d even found a few thousand Iranian toomans—the notes already dried and vacuum-sealed in plastic. He’d filled out all the appropriate forms. The money and everything else would be flown back home to her family in Shiraz, the supervisor promised, as soon as it had been examined, cleared, and logged in to a computer.

Thirteen

Late afternoon the bus returned to the inn. Ana entered the main house feeling worse than she had in days. She’d found nothing of Russell’s at the hangar, only a blue Mont Blanc pen that might—or might not—have been his. What had become of his leather satchel? she wondered. His luggage? His passport? Not to mention the man himself. They’d found nothing of him yet. How could he have just simply disappeared?