She headed to the café’s barista, a sullen-looking teenager who was reading a curled-up paperback of Stephen King’sThe Shining. She found his choice of material especially appropriate considering the blizzard.
His gaze flicked to her without raising his face from the book.
“I... I need to buy twenty minutes,” she said.
He simply pointed to a credit card reader.
“I’d rather pay in euros.”
He shook his head and tapped the reader, making it clear this was a cash-free establishment.
She frowned and grabbed her wallet. She had already used her debit card, so what did one more hit on her account matter?
In for a penny, in for a pound.
She tapped her card, got assigned a computer, and set to work. She had to hurry knowing she had just given away her location. Still, she had no idea how long it would be before the enemy responded.
On the computer, she did a swift search for the email address of the British embassy in Rome. She then opened her Google account and dispatched a note with a header asking it to be forwarded toSir Avery Bailey.
Archie’s father.
While the man no longer worked at the embassy, someone over there surely still had his contact information. She was lucky to have learned his full name, knowledge she had gained from Archie bragging about his father being knighted. It also helped that Naomi had a nearly eidetic memory.
She quickly typed her note, trying to ignore the clock ticking in her head. She kept the gist of her message concise:We’re innocent. We’re in trouble. Send help to San Vito di Cadore.
She hit send. She felt relieved but far from hopeful. Especially knowing the snail’s pace of British bureaucracy. There was no tellingwhenher email would reach Archie’s father—or anyone, for that matter.
Fears plagued her.
Will they even believe me? Will it do any good?
She moved on to another resource, one certain to garner more immediate attention. She shifted the corded eyeball of the computer’s camera closer—and logged in to her TikTok account.
She recorded and posted a short personal plea to her followers, repeating the same message from her email. She prayed for it to light a firestorm.
But even then, would it be enough with time running so short?
Especially for one of us.
Once done, she hurried out of the café and into the street. After the warmth inside, the icy cold forced the air from her lungs. She gasped as she turned the corner—and ran straight into the Moncler-clad entrepreneur again.
Antonio steadied her. “Where are you going?”
She shoved past him and headed away. “To help a friend.”
49
11:51 p.m.
Aggravated, Sharyn kicked inside her bedroll and heaved onto her side. Though exhausted, sleep still escaped her. It wasn’t due to the screaming winds, or the snap of a dry branch tossed into the fire by Russo, who had this watch. Or even Archie’s snoring.
Instead, her mind kept working on a puzzle, one she could not solve, and she knew why.
I’m missing a piece, something right in front of me that I’m not seeing.
She turned over again and found a pair of eyes shining at her with concern.
Duncan shifted in his rumpled bag. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.
