“Does he happen to be from Central Asia?”

“No, he was born here in Genoa. His parents are Tunisian immigrants. He’s nineteen years old. No criminal record. No known suspicious activity.”

“Religious?”

“Emilio told us Yasin is an observant Sunni Muslim.”

“And he’s just . . . what . . . vanished?”

“He hasn’t shown up to work in over six days,” Alana says. “According to Emilio, he hasn’t answered any texts or calls since then.”

“Have you gone to the police?”

“No, not yet.”

“It’s time we did, don’t you think?”

“Might not be necessary,” Alana says, determined to dissuade him. The dictum in NATO is that involving local law enforcement always introduces uncontrollable variables. If and when a manhunt for Yasin were required, she would far prefer to let the intelligence agencies run it. “I have the address for Yasin’s family home. We should talk to them first.”

“Let’s go.” Byron rises from his chair. “We’re going to need to a security escort, though. I’ll speak to the mayor.”

“Let me take care of that, Byron. I can go through Brussels. Faster and more secure.”

He eyes her doubtfully but says nothing.

“We don’t know that Yasin is even connected to the outbreak, let alone that he’s a terrorist. Besides, if we go in there with a fleet of police, lights and sirens, we’re only going to spook everyone. And it will be splashed all over the news.” He still doesn’t comment, so she adds, “Let me handle this, Byron. It’s what I do now.”

He hesitates a moment. “All right.”

“I’ll call Nico. He should come, too.”

Byron shakes his head. “Nico might be your friend, but he’s not a part of this investigation.”

“He knows this city. He understands the people. And the only reason we’re here at all is because Nico sounded the alarm.”

Byron stares back, unswayed.

“We owe it to him,” she says. “Besides, how’s your Tunisian? Because I’m pretty sure you don’t speak Italian, and Yasin’s family probably doesn’t speak English.”

Alana contacts Monique Olin, who says she’ll secure their escort through the Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Interna, better known as AISI, the Italian equivalent of the FBI.

Two hours later, an intelligence officer arrives at Byron’s office. He introduces himself as Sergio Fassino, the head of tactical operations for AISI, and explains that he has flown in directly from Rome. His rank alone confirms just how seriously the Italian government is taking the threat of possible bioterrorism.

With his good looks and impassive manner, Sergio reminds Alana of the lead actor from a detective series whose name she can’t place. His English is impeccable, but he’s a stickler for detail. She has to negotiate with Sergio for over thirty minutes before they finally compromise on the size and role of the AISI detail: six plainclothes operatives in total, but only two will accompany them inside the building while the other four will secure the perimeter.