Stefano’s breath catches in his throat. He’s overcome by a mix of terror and relief. Is it finally over, O Lord?

But the soldier doesn’t seem to notice him. He swivels his head from one side to the other, scanning the room, and then moves off to the right. Stefano cannot see the soldier anymore, but he hears cupboards opening and boxes moving. He grips the knife so tightly that his palm throbs.

What am I doing? I am a simple monk. A man of peace.

“You serve me!” The voice in his head is so loud that Stefano is convinced it will give away his hiding spot. “Do not waver! Kill in my name! Vengeance will be mine!”

Chapter

Sixty-Three

Alana stands impatiently beside Sergio on the raised bridge deck of the Cielo di Asia. The air is electrified. They’ve been aboard the cargo ship for twelve minutes. COMSUBIN soldiers are scouring the vessel but have yet to find any sign of Stefano, and a canine search team is already en route for backup.

The freighter’s commander, Captain Murdoch, a bearded Englishman with a lazy left eye, is implacable. “If you had only notified us, we could have apprehended this man!” he mutters, as he paces around the high-tech navigational equipment. “He could be anywhere now.”

“We didn’t want to place your crew at risk,” Sergio repeats for the third time.

“Well, you bloody well did that, didn’t you?” Murdoch growls.

“No, Stefano Russo did that. So did your company when they hired him without screening.”

“A hundred fifty thousand metric tons on board a ship that is as long as a football pitch!” Murdoch rails on. “There’s no end of places for your man to hide!”

“What’s done is done!” Alana snaps.

Murdoch shoots her an icy glare, but says nothing.

Sergio brings his hand to the Bluetooth receiver in his ear, and says a few words. He turns to the captain. “There’s something in Stefano’s room. Take us there, please.”

Murdoch leads them down three flights of stairs to the lowest deck. As they turn a corner, Alana sees a soldier standing outside a doorway down the hallway. They head for him. Murdoch begins to follow, but Alana stops him with an open palm. “Stay here.”

“This is my ship!” he protests angrily.

“Maybe so, but you’re not wearing protective gear. Or would you prefer to expose yourself to the plague?”

Murdoch pivots and marches back the way he came.

Before Alana reaches the room, she spots a hand and part of an arm extending out the doorway. She bolts ahead until she reaches the open door. Inside, a body is sprawled across the floor. The dead man is Asian.

Capitano Monti is already in the room, but he’s not focusing on the corpse. Instead, he leans over the lower bunk and sweeps a flashlight over an unzipped black canvas bag.

“Capitano, who is this man?” Alana asks.

Monti looks over his shoulder. “The roommate. We found him in the closet.” He beckons her over with a flick of his wrist. “Come, Dottore. You must see this.”