Ercole scoffed. “That is about three-quarters of Naples.”

Silence for a moment.

Then Rhyme said, “Dante, you asked if we can we tell anything more from the recording. You meant the conversation. What about what isn’t in the conversation?”

“The background sounds, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s a good thought.” Spiro said to McKenzie, “Can you send the recording to the email here? We will put it through good speakers, so we can hear better.” The inspector gave her the address.

A moment later the computer chimed. Rossi nodded to Ercole, who looked over the in-box and downloaded what Rhyme could see was an MP3 file.

The young man typed keys and the conversation played again. Through these speakers the words were much more distinct. But try though he might to hear past Gianni’s and Fatima’s words, Rhyme could draw no conclusions about the source of the sounds.

“Hopeless,” Rossi said.

“Maybe not,” Rhyme offered.

Chapter 64

Stefan Merck was a curious man.

Shy, and with eyes that were dark yet glowed in a child’s glimmer. An innocence about his round face.

Still, he was large and strong as an engine, Rhyme could see. Just his genes, probably. He didn’t have the physique of someone who worked out.

His hands were shackled when he was brought to the situation room. Rhyme said, “Take them off.”

Spiro considered this, nodded to the officer with Stefan and spoke in Italian.

The chains were removed, and Stefan had a very odd reaction. Rather than rub his wrists, as anyone else might have done, he cocked his head, closed his eyes and listened, it seemed, to the tinkling of the tiny steel rings of the shackles as they were pocketed by the officer.

Similar to what he’d done in Charlotte McKenzie’s house the night they were arrested.

It was as if he was memorizing the sound, storing it away.

He opened his eyes and asked for a tissue. Rossi handed him a box and he plucked one from the top and wiped his face and the crown of his head. When McKenzie said, “Sit down, Stefan,” he did, immediately. Not from fear, but as if she were a portion of his conscious mind and he himself had made the decision.

She was, of course, more than an associate. She was Euterpe, his muse, the woman guiding him on the path to Harmony.

“These men will explain what we need to do, Stefan. I’ll tell you later everything that’s happened. But for now, please do what they say.”

His head rose and fell slowly.

She looked at Rhyme, who said, “We have a recording, Stefan. Would you listen to it and tell us all the information you can figure out? We need to find somebody and we think the background sounds might be able to lead us to them.”

“A kidnapping phone call?”

Rhyme said, “No, a call between two people who’re planning a terror attack.”

He looked at McKenzie, who said, “Yes. One of the people we were after. I made a mistake and we got the wrong one. There’s someone else. We need to stop her.”