“I never realized you already knew how to fly.”

“He’s still learning,” Andy said grimly.

“Your father built a real sweetheart,” said Bell. “She’s amazingly strong. The other day, a stay was damaged, and the others held together for it.”

“Elastico!” said Danielle.

“Was your father elastico?” Bell asked gently.

Her big eyes lighted in happy memory. “Like biglia. India-rubber ball. Rimbalzare! He bounced.”

“Were you shocked how he died?”

“That he killed himself? No. If you stretch banda too much, too many times, it breaks. A man breaks when too much goes bad. But before, he was rimbalzare. Is Josephine piloting Celere’s monoplano in the race?”

“Yes.”

“How does she fare?”

“Behind by a full day.”

“Brava!” Danielle smiled.

“I was surprised to learn that Marco had another machine in the race. A big biplane with two motors.”

Danielle sneered, “Who do you think he stole that from?”

“Your father?”

“No. Marco copied the biplane from a brilliant student he befriended in Paris. At the École Supérieure des Techniques Aéronautiques et de Construction Automobile.”

“What was his name?”

“Sikorsky.”

“Russian?”

“And part Polish.”

“You knew him?”

“My father lectured at the École. We knew everyone.”

“Do you know Dmitri Platov?”

“No.”

“Did your father?”

“I never heard the name.”

Bell weighed another question. What more could he learn about her father’s suicide from her that might be worth the pain it might cause? Or should he rely on James Dashwood to ferret it out in San Francisco? Andy surprised him, stepping closer and muttering through tight lips, “Enough. Give her a break.”

“Danielle?” Bell asked.

“Yes, Mr. Bell?”

“Marco Celere convinced Josephine that he is the sole inventor of her aeroplane.”

Her nostrils flared and her eyes flashed. “Thief!”

“I wonder whether you could give me some . . . ammunition to convince her otherwise?”

“What does she care?”

“I sense disquiet. Doubt.”

“What does it matter to her?”

“At her core is something honest.”

“She is very ambitious, you know.”

“I wouldn’t believe everything I read in the papers. Preston Whiteway’s competitors have only just begun to support his race.”

Danielle gestured angrily at the wall. “I see no papers here. They say newspapers will confuse us.”

“Then how do you know Josephine is ambitious?”

“Marco told me.”

“When?”

“He was boasting when I stabbed. He said she was ambitious, but he was even more ambitious.”

“More ambitious? She wants to fly. What did he want? Money?”

“Power. Marco didn’t care about money. He would be a prince, or a king.” She tossed her head and laughed angrily, “King of the toads.”

“What is there about Josephine’s machine that is indisputably your father’s invention and not Marco Celere’s?”

“Why do you care?”