“Calling the authorities is his backup plan,” I say, understanding. It’s all that makes sense. “He’s hoping they’ll pick Anders up in case Anders doesn’t accept the payment.”

“Could be,” Bruno says.

“Could he be Emma’s father?” Bastian asks.

“Haven’t had a chance to do more than identify the tattoos,” Bruno says.

“How far are we from the school?” I ask as Bastian enters the address of the building into the GPS.

“You’re about an hour out. If you backtrack about four miles, I can get the chopper out there,” Bruno says, tracking our location. “It’ll be faster than driving. There’s a clearing where he can land. You’ll see it from the road.”

We’re on a long stretch of road, and although I see the headlights of a car coming toward us, I hit the brakes and jerk the steering wheel. Bastian curses, grabbing the handhold as the car skids, bouncing off the road before I right it and head back the way we came. Because this is our only big lead.

“On our way,” Bastian says. “If my brother doesn’t kill us first.”

“I’ll call you as I learn more,” Bruno says. “If the authorities are there, Amadeo, you can’t be, understand?”

“If Vittoria is there, I’m getting her out. Fuck the authorities. Get men out there. Men we trust.”

“It’ll take time.”

“Do it.” I disconnect the call and drive as fast as the car will go to the clearing. The chopper comes into view as we pull off the road. I stop the car, leaving the keys in the ignition when Bastian and I climb out. The chopper touches down, and we’re on board in record time and in the air in the next minute. Two of our men are already on board and one unzips the duffel bag to display an array of firepower. I have a feeling we won’t be getting even the smallest pistol into that building if Dmitri Anders is there. He and his men will be armed, and it's not like we can make a quiet entrance with the chopper.

Bastian points out the window to the road as, in the distance, the headlights of a row of black SUVs with official markings makes its way to our destination. They’ll be slower than us. We’ll have time to get Vittoria out, if she’s there.

If.

I don’t like the desperation I feel at the word. The anxiety. And a glance at Bastian tells me he’s just as anxious as me.