My reassurance and gratitude fell on deaf ears. It was then that I realized something else was troubling Jacob. What is it? I asked.

This affliction shows no sign of reprieve. I have heard that for every three residents of Genova, one has already perished. They bury the dead by the cartload or, as often as not, dump the bodies straight into the Ligurian Sea.

Did you expect any different?

The sadness and grief are to be expected. The fear and the helplessness, as well. What I did not anticipate was the rage. I see it in the faces of the men in the street. They need someone to blame for all the loss and suffering. My daughter was right, Rafael. Their God and their church will not be scapegoat enough.

You are worried they might turn on the Jews?

I am not worried they will. I know they will.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

The black SUV is waiting for Alana out front of the hotel with its engine running. The back door opens and a man in a black commando-style uniform, whom she doesn’t recognize, beckons her inside. The two men in the front seats are dressed the same. The car takes off as soon as the door closes.

“No news on Hussein? Or Yasin?” Alana demands.

The agent beside her only shakes his head, leaving her uncertain whether he even understands English. No one else speaks and, aside from the hum of the engine, a palpable silence engulfs the car.

Minutes later, the vehicle turns off into the entrance of a garage in the heart of the Cornigliano neighborhood. The driver steers down a ramp, and circles two floors lower until they reach a level filled with vehicles and commandos. They pull up beside another SUV. As soon as Alana spots Sergio, clad in the same black uniform as the others, she hops out and hurries over to join him.

The garage smells vaguely of urine and cigarettes. Fifteen or more uniformed AISI agents gather beside four unmarked black vans with dark tinted windows. Standing beside Sergio, Alana makes eye contact with the only other woman in the group, an agent with her hair tied back behind her cap and an assault rifle slung over her shoulder. The woman offers Alana a stone-faced nod before turning away.

“Hussein and the others have been in there for hours,” Sergio says. “They could move anytime. You understand?”

Alana nods.

“Once the grounds are secured, we will need you to tell us what we might be dealing with. How to handle any material that could be contagious.”

“Yes, of course.” She has begun to knead her shoulder without even thinking about it.

He shepherds her over to the side of an open van. Inside, it is piled with equipment. He reaches for a self-contained breathing apparatus that she recognizes by the hood and tank. Another agent steps out from behind the van already fully garbed in the same outfit, down to his gloves and booties.