"I can't be sure what name she'd be using. It's likely whatever it is, the initials are J and D."

"Just one moment... Lieutenant, we have three guests with reservations in the stated time period with those initials. Justina D'Angelo is expected next week. I know Senora D'Angelo personally. She has been a guest here many times."

"How old is she?"

"Lieutenant, this is a delicate area." "Come on."

"She admits to fifty, and has so admitted for ten years." "She's clear.

Number two."

"Jann Drew, expected at the end of this month. She is a new guest.

Let me pull up her file for you." "This is more like it," Eve stated and sat back sipping coffee.

"Lieutenant, Ms. Drew lists her address in Copenhagen. She is booked for ten days, and will be joined by a companion for the last three." "I'm going to have my assistant run her while you give me the data on the third."

"This is a Josephine Dorchester, and is also a new guest. She arrived only last night and is booked through tomorrow." The back of Eve's neck prickled, and she leaned forward. "Where did she come in from?"

"She lists her U.S. address as Texas. She has our premiere accommodations. I was on duty last night when Ms. Dorchester arrived. She is very charming."

"Thirtyish, athletic build, about five foot, four inches." "Yes, I-"

"Hold on." Eve snapped the 'link to wait mode. "Josephine Dorchester," she called to Roarke. "Texas. Run her fast, get me her passport ID. It's her. I know it's her."

"On your wall screen," Roarke responded as he came back in from his office. "You've locked her, Lieutenant." Eve watched as Julianna's image, still blonde, still blue-eyed, flashed on-screen.

"Hello, Julianna." Eve switched the 'link back. "Okay, Signorina Vincenti, listen carefully."

Fifteen minutes later, Eve's teeth were bared as she snarled threats at the Italian police. "I don't care what time it is, I don't care how long it takes you to get there, I don't give a damn if you're short- staffed."

"Lieutenant, I cannot make a move without a proper warrant, and even then, it will take some time. Such matters are very delicate.

The woman you seek is a U.S. citizen. We cannot arrest and hold a citizen of the United States simply on the request of an American police officer via a 'link transmission."

"You'll have your paperwork within the hour. You could be there within the hour and pick her up as soon as it's in your hand." "This is not proper procedure. This is not America."

"You're telling me. Stand by. I'll get back to you." She broke transmission, surged to her feet. "How fast can we get there?"

"Knowing the meanderings of red tape, faster than your Italian counterpart will."

"Then let's move. I'll get clearance on the way."

CHAPTER 20

She was a pleasure to watch, Roarke thought, while he relaxed with a brandy as they raced through the sky above the Atlantic.

Raw energy in motion, he decided.

She used a headset, keeping her hands free for a coffee cup or a notebook or a second 'link if she had two transmissions going at once. She paced, up and down, up and down the short, narrow aisle in the cabin of his fastest transport, snapping out orders, chewing out data, vocally flogging anyone who tossed up an obstacle to her goal.

She spoke to Feeney, to her commander, to someone in the United States consulate-whose ears would probably leak blood for the rest of his natural life-to the Italian police captain who continued to hold up his hands, still empty of the proper paperwork. She contacted a lawyer who specialized in international law, waking him without regret or mercy and shoving him into the fray.

"Data port's down?" She raged at the Italian cop on the next transmission. "What the hell do you mean your data ports are down?" "Such things happen, Lieutenant. We should have them back in an hour or two."

"You'll waste an hour or two. You can get oral or e-authorization now."

"I must have the proper documentation, in hard copy, with the authorization stamp and seal. This is the law."

"Let me tell you my law, amigo. You screw up this apprehension and I'm frying your balls for breakfast." She cut him off, kicked the base of the nearest seat.

"We're halfway there," Roarke told her. "You've done all you can do and terrified a number of minor bureaucrats. You should sit down and get some sleep."

"I don't want to sleep."

"Sit down anyway." He managed to snag her hand, tug her into the seat beside him. "Shut down, Lieutenant. Even you can't alter the laws of physics and get us there any faster." He draped an arm around her, drew her head firmly down to his shoulder.

"I need to update the commander."

"When we land. Just rest and imagine Julianna's face when you walk into her suite. And think of all the Italian ass you get to kick."

"Yeah." She yawned. "There's that." On that pleasant thought, she slid into a shallow sleep.

"Jet-copter?" Eve stood staring at the small, sleek, four-person transpo with blurry vision. "You didn't say anything about having to do the last leg in a jet-copter."

"And you slept easier for it." Roarke boosted himself in behind the controls. "Eight minutes from port to port. A great deal less time than ground transpo on Italian roads, in Italian traffic, through the hillsides, around the lake-"

"All right, all right." She sucked in a breath. "Everybody has to die of something." "I'll try not to take that as an insult to my piloting skills.

Strap in, Lieutenant."

"Believe me." She snapped on her safety harness, checked its tension twice. "I hate going up in these things."

"I can't think why." The instant he got clearance, Roarke shot the copter up in a vertical, slicing up two hundred feet in the time it took Eve's stomach to execute the first of a serious of stylish somersaults.

"Cut it out!"

"Sorry, did you say something?" On a rollicking laugh, he punched the jets and arrowed into the pink-streaked sky.

"Why do you think that's funny?" She gripped the sides of her seat with fingers that dug in like steel claws. "You sadistic son of a bitch." "It's a guy thing. We really can't help ourselves. Christ, look at that sky."

"What's wrong with it?" Images of some horrendous natural disaster layered over a visceral fear of heights.

"Not a bloody thing. It's quite gorgeous, don't you think? It isn't every day you watch the dawn break over the Italian Alps. Next time we have a little time we should spend a few days out here."

"Fine, great. Terrific. As long as it's on the ground. I will not look down, I will not look down, I will not look down."

And of course she did, felt her head spin in the opposite direction of her belly. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Are we there yet?"

"Nearly. You can see the lake, and the first sunlight just sliding over the water."

That only made her think of the horrors of an emergency water landing. "That's the place?" "That's it."

She saw the pink and white stone of the old estate, the spread of grass and gardens, the blue gems that were pools and fountains.

Instead of seeing beauty, she saw the finish line.

"At least that putz Captain Giamanno's on his way. I'm looking forward to biting out his throat once the formalities are over." "This is not America," Roarke said in a dead-on mimic.

Eve grinned at him. "You're all right, Roarke."

"Remember you said that." And he sent the copter into a steep drop, chuckled over his wife's thin scream as he touched down onto the helipad. "That got the blood moving."

"I so completely hate you right now."

"I know, but you'll get over it." He shut down the engines. "Smell that air. Lovely. You can still smell the night-blooming jasmine on it." She managed to jump out, with some semblance of dignity, then gave up, bent from the waist, and waited to get her breath back. "Lieutenant Dallas?" Eve stayed down as the footsteps approached, then stared at the sharp black shoes as she felt her system settle. "Yeah? You Signorina Vincenti?"