He thinks again of Don Arturo. Stefano’s mother was only sixteen years old when he was born, and he never met his own father; the wise abbot is the closest anyone has ever come to filling the role. Surely Don Arturo will know what to do about Nino. They were not supposed to have further contact during the mission, but Stefano sees this crisis as reason enough to break the silence and consult his mentor.

He leaves his room and locks the door behind him. He slinks down the narrow corridor of the belowdecks hallway, takes the stairs down to the computer room on the lower deck, and is relieved to find it empty.

He sits down at the far terminal of the two computers but has to wait a minute or so for the slow satellite Internet connection to engage before he can log on to his account. As he waits, a minimized photo on the side of the browser’s home page catches his eye. He clicks on the icon and watches, with horror, as his own image fills almost half of the screen. Beside his own passport photo is a picture of Brother Silvio. The text underneath screams: “Source of plague?”

Chapter

Sixty

Sergio has no flashing light or siren, but he drives as if he does, leaning heavily on the horn as he weaves along the crowded curving streets. The black sedan jerks so hard at times that Alana has to grip the armrest in the backseat to steady herself.

“What exactly did the emails between them say?” Byron asks from the passenger seat.

The car slows to a halt behind a line of traffic, and Sergio uses the opportunity to grab the pages off the console between them. “Stefano sent the first email four weeks ago. It says: ‘All is well, but the males fight over the food. Can this really be what God intends?’ And Don Arturo replies: ‘He speaks to you alone. His blessing is righteous, my brother. Do not ever doubt His word.’ ” Sergio flips a page. “And then three weeks ago Stefano wrote: ‘I freed Asiago at the construction site, just as you advised. Should I still release Robiola in a park now?’ And Arturo responded: ‘Yes, the Parco Serra Gropallo will be perfect. He will easily find a home there. Just as the Lord intends it.’ ”

Alana can barely bite back her anger. “The son of a bitch was feeding into Stefano’s psychosis! Goading him on.”

The cars ahead of them begin to move and Sergio drops the pages back onto the console. “The last few emails were sent seven days ago,” he says. “Arturo told Stefano that God wanted him to spread the plague in Asia. He even suggested that Stefano hire on as a crew member on a freighter.”

“Asia!” Alana slaps the armrest with an open palm. “What if he’s already left?”

Sergio shrugs. “No freighter can reach the Far East in under a week. We will search the manifests and crew lists of every ship that has recently departed Naples, or will soon. We will find him.”