Mulbry was completely still for a moment. He whispered, “Goddamn.”

Sachs said, “You better tell the team they’ve been compromised.”

Another glance between Rhyme and Sachs. He said to the agent, “We’ll talk about your offer. And be in touch.”

“I hope you will.” Mulbry shook their hands, said goodbye to Thom and climbed from the van, pulling out his phone.

Thom put the gearshift into drive and eased forward. They stopped at the Passport Control and Customs kiosk and handed over documents, which were returned. The van continued on.

Rhyme gave a laugh. “The Czech Republic.”

Thom said. “I’ve been to Prague a couple of times. I’m partial to the česnečka. Garlic soup. Oh, and the fruit dumplings. The best.”

“What’s the local liquor like?” Rhyme asked.

“Slivovitz. Really potent. At least a hundred proof—fifty percent alcohol.”

“You don’t say?” Rhyme was intrigued.

They pulled up to the aircraft and Thom began the complicated procedure of lowering the ramp. Sachs climbed out, slung her computer bag over her shoulder. “Spies, Rhyme? Seriously?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

His eyes strayed to the copilot, who was completing the pre-flight walk-around.

Everything on the aircraft seemed properly attached and functioning.

The strapping young man—in a suit, white shirt and tie—approached his passengers now. “We’re all set, sir. Flight time should be about an hour and a half.”

Sachs was frowning. “To New York?”

The copilot’s brows furrowed. He glanced toward Rhyme, who said, “We’re not going back to the U.S. just yet. We’re meeting some friends in Milan.”

“Friends?” She glanced at Thom, who was looking over the airplane as if he himself were about to conduct a second preflight check. And avoiding eye contact. He was, however, smiling.

“Lon Sellitto. Oh, and Ron Pulaski.” The young NYPD officer they worked with regularly.

“Rhyme?” Sachs asked slowly. “What’s in Milan?”

He frowned and looked at Thom. “What is it again?”

“A Dichiarazione Giurata.”

“A particularly delicious dinner entrée?”

“Ha. No, it’s an affidavit we need to swear to before the consulate general there.”

“And why?”

“Obviously. Because we can’t get married without it. Ercole and Thom arranged the whole thing. Then we drive to Lake Como. The mayor there’ll perform the ceremony. We need to rent the marriage hall—part of the arrangement. It’s bigger than we need, I imagine, but that’s the way it works. Lon and Ron’ll be the witnesses.”

“A honeymoon on Lake Como, Rhyme,” Sachs said, smiling.

Rhyme tossed a look Thom’s way. “He was pretty insistent.”

She asked, “And what about Greenland?”

“Maybe our first anniversary,” Rhyme said and drove his chair toward the ramp that would take him up to the cabin of the sleek, idling jet.

Acknowledgments

With undying gratitude to: Will and Tina Anderson, Cicely Aspinall, Sophie Baker, Felicity Blunt, Penelope Burns, Jane Davis, Julie Deaver, Andy Dodd, Jenna Dolan, Jamie Hodder-Williams, Kerry Hood, Cathy Gleason, Emma Knight, Carolyn Mays, Wes Miller, Claire Nozieres, Hazel Orme, Abby Parsons, Michael Pietsch, Jamie Raab, Betsy Robbins, Lindsey Rose, Katy Rouse, Deborah Schneider, Vivienne Schuster, Louise Swannell, Ruth Tross, Madelyn Warcholik…and especially to my Italian friends: Roberta Bellesini, Giovanna Canton, Andrea Carlo Cappi, Gianrico Carofiglio, Francesca Cinelli, Roberto Costantini, Luca Crovi, Marina Fabbri, Valeria Frasca, Giorgio Gosetti, Michele Giuttari, Paolo Klun, Stefano Magagnoli, Rosanna Paradiso, Roberto and Cecilia Santachiara, Carolina Tinicolo, Luca Ussia, Paolo Zaninoni…and I must note the passing of the wonderful Tecla Dozio, whose mystery bookshop in Milan was always one of the highpoints of my international tours.