'Yes…' Harry's defensive antenna suddenly went up. His home number was unlisted. They could get it, he knew. But why?

'Your brother called you last Friday at four-sixteen in the morning Rome time.'

That was it. They had a record of Danny's calls.

'Yes, he did. But I wasn't home. He left word on my answering machine.'

'Word. You mean a message?'

'Yes.'

'What did he say?'

Harry folded one leg over the other, then counted to five and looked at Roscani. 'That's what I wanted to talk to you about in the first place.'

Roscani said nothing. Just waited for Harry to continue.

'He was frightened. He said he didn't know what to do. Or what would happen next.'

'What did he mean by happen next?'

'I don't know. He didn't say.'

'What else did he say?'

'He apologized for calling the way he did. And said he would try and call back.'

'Did he?'

'No.'

'What was he frightened of?'

'I don't know. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him call me after eight years.'

'You had not spoken in eight years?'

Harry nodded.

Roscani and Pio exchanged glances.

'When was the last time you saw him?'

'Our mother's funeral. Two years before that.'

'You had not spoken with your brother in all that time. And then he calls you, and very shortly afterward he is dead.'

'Yes…'

'Was there a particular reason you and your brother were at odds?'

'One particular incident? No. Some things just build up over time.'

'Why were you the one he chose to call now?'

'He said… there was no one else he could talk to…'

Once again Roscani and Pio exchanged glances.

'We would like to hear the message on your machine.'

'I erased it.'

'Why?'

'Because the tape was full. It wouldn't have recorded anything else.'

'Then there is no proof there was a message. Or that you or someone in your home did not actually speak with him.'