Their eyes went to the map of Naples, where Spiro had circled the docks with a red marker. He now put X’s near a number of public squares and piazzas in the general area of the waterfront and on what he must have known were hills.

“The second birds are seagulls. They’d be everywhere in and around Naples, of course, but here there are only four, I think. One is giving a copulation call. He’s some distance. The three closer to the phone are giving assault calls and alarm calls. They’re fighting aggressively, probably over food, since they wouldn’t be nesting there. And because there are only three, I think they’re fighting over trash in a small bin, behind a restaurant or house. They are farther away from the waterfront; closer, there would be more and there would be a lot of sources for food—fishermen and trash—so the fighting would not be as vicious.”

Stefan played the tape back once more and paused it. “There is a school nearby, grade school, we’d say in America. I would guess it’s a parochial or a private school—many of the children have leather soles. I can hear no running shoes. Leather soles would mean uniforms. So private or religious. It’s a school because they’re laughing and running and playing and then, almost as once, it stops, and the sound of their feet changes as they all walk at the same pace back to class.” He looked at the others, all staring at him. “They’re grade school—I can tell this because of the sound of the voices and the interval of their footfalls. I said that before. There is construction going on not far away. Metal work. Cutting metal and riveting.”

“The ironwork of a building,” Rossi said.

“I don’t know if it’s a building,” Stefan corrected. “It might be anything metal. A ship.”

“Of course.”

“Now, we can’t ignore words. Do you hear that American voice? A man’s asking, ‘How much?’ Speaking slowly and loud, as if that will improve understanding. Anyway, he’d be speaking to an outdoor vendor. Or, possibly, a shop with an open window.

“There’s a man vomiting. Then he receives angry comments. So, I would think he’s a drunk, not somebody who’s sick. Somebody ill would get sympathy, and we’d hear a siren. This means there might be a bar not far away. I hear scooter engines starting, then running for a few minutes, then stopping. They seem, some of them seem, to be misfiring. The sound of tools.”

“A repair shop,” Ercole said.

“Yes.” He listened to more of the tape. “Church bells.” Stefan replayed it. “The notes are D, G, G, B, G, G.”

Spiro asked, “You are able to tell?”

“I have absolute pitch. Yes, I know those notes. I don’t know what they are playing. We have to find out.”

Rossi asked, “Perhaps, can you sing it?”

Without referring to the tape again Stefan sang the notes in a clear baritone. “I’m an octave lower,” he said, as if that were important information.