“You saw it?” Antonio asked, rather aggressively. “Did you?”

“I must have missed it,” Keira mumbled in response. “We went by a little fast.”

“Fast?” Antonio scoffed. “Fast? I’m driving the pace of a snail thanks to this idiota in front of me!” He threw his arms toward the red car ahead of them, which they were practically touching bumpers with, then honked his horn over and over and swore again loudly.

He swung the car sharply down another side road. This one was filled with bags of garbage. The walls were covered in graffiti and many of the cars appeared abandoned, covered in dust and bird droppings. Here, several of the metal balconies above them were rusted and half falling from the walls. Many of the potted plants upon them were dead.

Antonio laughed suddenly and pointed at a huge billboard hanging over the entrance to what appeared to be a parking lot.

“A sexy lady, huh?” he said. “Our Italian women are goddesses.”

Keira squirmed even more. “Oh yes, they’re very beautiful,” she said.

“You looking at the trash?” Antonio said in his barking voice.

Keira guiltily turned her eyes away from the mountains of bags.

“It’s a big problem,” Antonio added. “Big problem. Here, they call it the Triangle of Death. All the waste causes cancer, birth defects, that sort of thing.”

Keira grimaced.

“The system does not do anything about it,” Antonio added.

“The system?” Keira asked.

“The mafia, you know?” Antonio added, again speaking in that way that made Keira feel like he thought she was a complete imbecile. “You will see them around. When there is a fight, they are there. They are the ones with the guns.”

With every passing moment, Keira felt more terrible. Had Elliot been aware of the conditions of this city when he’d arranged the assignment? She knew she was only supposed to be passing through but it still seemed like an oversight. Surely Heather would have known about the crime and poor conditions—she was so organized Keira couldn’t imagine such things evading her notice.

“Are there lots of fights around here?” Keira asked with trepidation.

“Sure, sure,” Antonio said. “Lots of bars and unemployed young people. It is a poor city. Always fights.”

Keira became increasingly worried about the time she’d be spending in the city.

“So, are we heading to the hotel now?” she asked.

“No time,” Antonio replied brusquely. “I am your guide. I am supposed to guide you.”

“Where are we going then?” Keira asked. She was exhausted and the uncomfortable interaction with Antonio coupled with her anxiety was making her even more tired.

“La Statua del Nilo,” Antonio replied. “Amazing statue. Ancient.”

He drove them at top speed through the narrow streets. Then suddenly he slammed on the brakes, making Keira jerk uncomfortably forward, the seat belt pressing painfully against her chest. She thunked back against the seat.

“There!” Antonio beamed.

Keira looked around her. The car was idling beside a stone plinth that was extremely weathered. Sitting atop was the statue, made of marble, depicting a man resting on his side, holding what appeared to be a bouquet of flowers.