Odo leaned forward as the snarling static returned. “Matthias indicates they have not been detected by the Spanish or Milanese on their journey north, and that they will depart as soon as-” He stopped, moving his head quickly from side to side.

“As soon as what?” Sharon tried to sound calm; Ruy was sad to admit that his beloved was failing miserably.

“I could not make it out; I’m only receiving fragments now. And given the trapdoor codes built into this cipher, I cannot be sure if the letters I think I’m hearing are still accurate. I might have missed a trapdoor character.”

“Which changes the code, right?”

“Yes, Ambassador Nichols. But, from the rest of the message, I would say that Captain Simpson’s group plans to leave Chiavenna immediately after meeting the cardinal.”

Ruy’s and Sharon’s eyes drifted to the window; the sunlight was no longer yellow, but late-day amber. “That had better be one quick meeting,” observed Sharon.

“Do not worry, my love. I’m sure all will go well.”

She half turned, looking at him over her thickly graceful shoulder. “Oh? Really? And why would you say that, Ruy?”

Ruy shrugged. “To ease your mind, love.”

She touched his arm lightly, then turned back to encourage Odo to check other frequencies.

As Ruy studied his wife’s wide, watchful eyes in their fixation upon the radio, he silently conceded that Sharon was, of course, entirely correct: his assurance that “all will go well” was merely hopeful nonsense. The simple truth of the matter was that he hoped all would go well.

But of course, it rarely did.

CHAPTER TWO

The proprietor of the rustic Crotto Fiume leaned a bit closer to Tom Simpson and almost crooned: “Are you sure you won’t have the soup, signor? It is a local specialty: black cherry and game. A favorite of men who are large like you-who are so, so… robusto.”