“Uh, Stone, my handbag was in the car.”

“What was in it?”

“Everything. Passport, money, iPhone—absolutely everything.”

“That pretty much covers it for me, too. Plus half my clothes.”

“We should call the police,” she said.

“Great idea. Do you know how to call the police in Italy?”

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then we’d better ask somebody for help.”

“Another great idea. How’s your Italian?”

“Where are we?”

“I have no idea,” Stone said. “And I wouldn’t know how to tell the police to find us. I don’t even know the name of this service area. All I know is, it’s somewhere east of Naples.”

“Do you have any money? All mine was in my bag, and my credit cards, too.”

“I’ve got a thousand euros in my pocket and my credit cards. Come on.” He led her back inside the service stop and went into the shop. He found a map of Italy, took it to the cashier, and bought it. “Do you speak English?” he asked the cashier.

“Little bit.”

Stone opened the map. “Where are we?”

She looked at the map and pointed. “Here,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Stone took his iPhone from its holster.

“Who are you calling?” Hedy asked.

“American Express.” He dialed the number on the back of his credit card and pressed the number on the menu for concierge. He gave them his name and card number.

“How may we help you, Mr. Barrington?”

Stone gave her the name of the service area. “My car has been stolen. I need a car and driver as soon as possible to drive us to Positano.”

“I’m so sorry for your trouble,” the woman said. “Please hold for a moment.”

Stone held.

“You don’t want to go back to Rome?” Hedy asked.

“Do you? I think Positano will be more fun. In the circumstances.”

“How will we get back to Rome?”

“We’ll rent a car.”

“But we don’t have any clothes.”

“There are many shops in Positano and Amalfi.”

After about ten minutes, American Express came back on. “Mr. Barrington, I have a car and driver for you. What is your destination in Positano?”

“Le Sirenuse, a hotel.”

“The car will be there in approximately forty-five minutes,” she said.

“We’ll be in the restaurant.”

“The car is a Lancia sedan, and the driver’s name is Fabrioso. Everything will be charged to your Centurion card.”

“Thank you very much.” He hung up. “Forty-five minutes. Let’s get some lunch.”

They got a hot lunch in the cafeteria and sat down. Stone called Joan and told her what had happened. “Call my insurance company,” he said, “and make a claim.” He dictated a list of his things in the car, then turned to Hedy. “Give me a list of your possessions,” he said. “As much as you can remember.” She did so.

“They’re going to want a police report,” Joan said.