“He expressed an interest in my burned-out car—or rather, in Marcel duBois’s burned-out car. He said that maybe it was a warning, and that maybe I should heed it.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Funny, that’s what I said to myself.”

“Are you mixed up in something Casselli is interested in?”

“I don’t know, but I’m here for a board meeting, which was about buying a partially built hotel that we could turn into a new Arrington. That was at midday yesterday. Then yesterday evening the structure burned down.”

“Uh-oh.”

“You said that before.”

“Sounds like you and Casselli have a common interest.”

“Not in the sense that we are partners.”

“Casselli may not see it that way.”

“I thought he was retired.”

“He’s retired from America, although he may still have hidden assets here, but he could still be active in Italy. I’ll check into that.”

“Good idea.”

“When are you going back to Rome?”

“Marcel is sending a car for us tomorrow afternoon. We should be back later in the day.”

“Let me talk to a couple of people, and I’ll get back to you late tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“And in the meantime, try not to piss off any mafiosi, will you?”

“I haven’t been trying.” They hung up.

—

What was that all about?” Hedy asked.

“I’m not sure. Dino is going to make some calls and get back to me tomorrow.”

“Tell me who Dino is, if you haven’t already.”

“He’s the police commissioner of New York City.”

“And you know him how?”

“I used to be a cop, and Dino and I were partners.”

“And you keep in touch?”

“We’re sort of best friends.”

“That must be very convenient for you.”

“Sometimes.”

“Is Dino how we got our stuff back?”

“I don’t think so. Apparently, there’s something going on that I didn’t know about. I’m going to have to have a serious talk with my partner, Marcel, when we get back to Rome.”

9

The following morning they took the little electric vehicle and roamed the vertically stacked streets of Positano, doing a little light shopping for Hedy. They checked out of Le Sirenuse at one o’clock, and there was a Mercedes with a driver waiting for them. Stone got a better look at the Amalfi Coast with somebody else driving, and he enjoyed the experience, until they got onto the autostrada, when the driver spoke up.

“Mr. Barrington,” he said, “is there any reason somebody would be following you?”

“None that I’m aware of.”

“There’s a black Lancia sedan three cars back,” the man said. “It’s been behind us since we left your hotel.”

Stone looked back and saw the car; two men occupied the front seat.

“How fast are we going?”

“A hundred and thirty kilometers an hour.”

“Let’s see what happens at a hundred and sixty.”