“It would be wise if you checked with her before you called anyone.”

The word “wise” pushed Nola's button. “Why? Are my whereabouts a national secret?” she asked. There was no longer a need for hiding, and calling Roberta would be her smoke signal to Leslie and Daniel.

“That’s not it.” He shook his head, but his eyes remained fixed on Nola. “I wasn’t going to mention it—it’s the ambassador’s place to discuss this with you—but your being here puts us in, uh, a bit of a pickle. Politically. We need to strategize—Uh—”

Nola shot him a sharp glance and, with the receiver in her hand, rifled through the nearest Rolodex. “Hold on,” she told the operator who had come on. Her fingers stopped at CNB. “Please connect me to this number.” As she read it aloud, her gaze was hooked onto Trentafillos’.

“Miss Sands—” he began again.

“Please make sure the line is not disconnected ‘by mistake.’ ” Her voice was steel. She clutched the phone.

Trentafillos exited, while Sharon kept busy aligning stacked documents at right angles. Within moments Nola was connected to Roberta's studio.

“News flash!” Roberta announced over the airwaves, and Nola turned down the dial on the radio to cut the echo. “We have Nola on the line! She’s alive! She’s back from the end of the earth! I can’t believe it! Hallelujah! Nola! My Ginger Goddess! Is that really you? How are you?”

“I’m fine. Happy to hear your voice again.” Her Ginger Goddess indeed. Nola could smell Roberta's sweat, rising with excitement over a good story.

“Now, guys, you heard it here first. On CNB’s Big Mouth’s Morning Hour! Didn’t I promise I’d deliver the goods? Nola! Where are you? Have you heard the callers? We’ve all been praying for Lulu and you. Right, everybody? Honk your horns if you, too, are happy to hear this wonderful news. Honk. Honk! Guys, I’m listening up here on the twelfth floor at West Fifty-Seventh Street in Manhattan and I don’t hear enough honking. Honk! That’s it. Nola, can you hear all this honking?”

Nola chuckled. “I’m not that near.”

“Where have you been? Where are you now? How is our precious little baby?”

“I’ve played Marco Polo. Like you say, I almost stepped over the edge of the earth, but I’m all right now. Lulu's well, too. Please tell all your listeners how much we appreciate their concern, support and prayers.”

“You’re telling them yourself. Thank the master of the universe!” Roberta hollered. “We all love you. I love you. My bosom buddy, my sister. Tell us about Lulu. Such an adorable little thing.”

“She’s a wonderful baby. At seven months, she’s already beginning to speak. This past week, she learned a few English words.”

“A genius! And that’s the baby the Chinese wanted to kill?”