“Me, too. During the months I worked here I never got that kind of attention. They’ve certainly beefed up security.”

Shawn parked where he’d been told but as close as possible to the Scavi office. “I’ll get the tools. You get yourself over to the shelter of the portico. I don’t want you getting wet, like this after noon.”

“Will you be able to manage?” Sana asked while getting an umbrella from the backseat.

Shawn grabbed her arm. “The question is: Will you?”

“I’m better now that we’re here.”

Sana was about to climb from the car when Shawn tightened his grip. “Wait for these cars,” he said. Sana turned to see a line of cars bearing down on them in the darkness. They went by with a whoosh on the slick, puddle-filled cobblestones, sending a heavy spray of water to splash against the Fiat. Shawn and Sana turned to watch the red taillights speed away, passing through the Arco delle Campane without even slowing.

“That must have been one of the bosses, maybe even the big boss himself,” Shawn commented.

“Thank you for keeping me from opening my door,” Sana said. “I would have been drenched.”

A few minutes later they were inside the darkened Scavi office. Shawn had carried the tools and other paraphernalia in the two buckets. Now that he was this close, his excitement and anxiety ratcheted up several degrees.

“What should I do with the umbrella?” Sana asked guilelessly.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Shawn exploded. “Do I have to tell you what to do with everything?” He’d been pushed beyond his patience. First, she threatened not to go through with their plan, and now she was asking stupid questions.

“You don’t need to speak to me like that. It’s a reasonable question. If I leave it here, someone may come along and then suspect someone is down in the excavation.”

“Why on earth would someone jump to the conclusion that a trespasser was down in the Scavi when an umbrella is left in the Scavi office? That’s ridiculous.”

“Fine!” Sana snapped back. She extended her arm and let the Hassler Hotel umbrella fall to the floor. She felt that Shawn’s concern for her feelings had descended to a new low.

Shawn was equally unhappy. Over the last year, as her career blossomed one moment she was an independent firebrand, cutting her hair short against his wishes; in another she was as petulant as a child dropping the umbrella as she’d just done.

For several beats they stared daggers at each other. Sana was the first to relent. “We’re both being foolish,” she said. She picked up the umbrella and leaned it up against a wooden bench.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, but without much sincerity. “I’m uptight because I was afraid you were not going to go through with this, which is of vital importance to me.”