The Sky Is Falling

"What do you mean his daughter disappeared? Was she kidnapped?"

"No. She just kind of" - he tried vainly to find the right word -  "disappeared. No one knows what happened to her." He sighed. "I can tell you, Pia was a beauty."

"Where is Mancino's wife?"

"The rumor is that she's in some kind of sanitarium."

"Do you know where?"

"No. You don't want to, either." Their waiter came to the table. "I know this restaurant," Dominick Romano said. "Would you like me to order for you?"

"I would."

"Bene."He turned to the waiter. "Prima, pasta fagioli. Dopo, abbacchio arrosta con polenta."

"Grazie."

The food was superb and the conversation turned light and casual. But when they got up to leave, Romano said, "Dana, stay away from Mancino. He is not the kind of man you question."

"But if he - "

"Forget him. In a word - omerta."

"Thank you, Dominick. I appreciate your advice."

Vincent Mancino's offices were in a modern building he owned on Via Sardegna. A heavyset guard sat at the reception desk in the marble lobby.

He looked up as Dana entered. "Buona giorno. Posso aiutarla, signorina?"

"My name is Dana Evans. I'd like to see Vincent Mancino."

"You have an appointment?"

"No."

"Then I'm sorry."

"Tell him it's about Taylor Winthrop."

The guard studied Dana a moment, then reached for a telephone and spoke into it. He replaced the receiver. Dana waited.

What in the world will I find?

The phone rang, and the guard picked it up and listened a moment. He turned to Dana. "Second floor. There will be someone there to meet you."

"Thank you."

"Prego."

Vincent Mancino's office was small and unimpressive, not at all what Dana had expected. Mancino sat behind an old, battered desk. He was in his sixties, a medium-size man, with a broad chest, thin lips, white hair, and a hawk nose. He had the coldest eyes Dana had ever seen. On the desk was a gold-framed photograph of a beautiful teenager.

As Dana entered his office, Mancino said, "You come about Taylor Winthrop?" His voice was raspy and deep.

"Yes. I wanted to talk about - "

"There is nothing to talk about, signorina. He died in a fire. He is burning in hell, and his wife and his children are burning in hell."

"May I sit down, Mr. Mancino?"

He started to say, "No." Instead he said, "Scusi. Sometimes when I get upset, I forget my manners. Prego, si accomodi. Please, have a seat."

Dana took a chair across from him. "You and Taylor Winthrop were negotiating a trade deal between your two governments."

"Yes."

"And you became friends?"

"For a little while, forse. "

Dana glanced at the photograph on the desk. "Is that your daughter?"

He did not answer.

"She's beautiful."

"Yes, she was very beautiful."

Dana looked at him, puzzled. "Isn't she still alive?" She watched him studying her, trying to make up his mind whether to talk to her.

When he finally spoke, he said, "Alive? You tellme. " His voice was filled with passion. "I took your American friend, Taylor Winthrop, into my home. He broke bread with us. I introduced him to my friends. Do you know how he repaid me? He made my beautiful virgin daughter pregnant. She was sixteen years old. She was afraid to tell me because she knew I would kill him, so she...she had anabortion. " He spat out the word like anathema. "Winthrop was afraid of publicity, so he did not send Pia to a doctor. No. He...he sent her to a butcher." His eyes filled with tears. "A butcher who tore out her womb. My sixteen-year-old daughter, signorina ..." His voice was choked. "Taylor Winthrop not only destroyed my daughter, he murdered my grandchildren and all their children and their grandchildren. He wiped out the Mancino family's future." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Now he and his family have paid for his terrible sin."

Dana sat silent, speechless.

"My daughter is in a convent, signorina. I will never see her again. Yes, I made a deal with Taylor Winthrop." His cold steel-gray eyes bored into Dana's. "But it was a deal with the devil."

So there are two of them, Dana thought. And Marcel Falcon still to meet.

On the KLM flight to Belgium, Dana was conscious of someone taking the seat next to her. She looked up. It was an attractive, pleasant-faced man, and he had obviously asked the stewardess to switch his seat.

He looked at Dana and smiled. "Good morning. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is David Haynes." He had an English accent.

"Dana Evans."

There was no recognition on his face. "It's a lovely day for flying, isn't it?"

"Beautiful," Dana agreed.

He was eyeing her admiringly. "Are you traveling to Brussels on business?"

"Business and pleasure."

"Do you have friends there?"

"A few."

"I'm well acquainted in Brussels."

Wait until I tell Jeff about this, Dana thought. And then the realization hit her again. He's with Rachel.

He was studying her face. "You look familiar."

Dana smiled. "I have that kind of face."

When the plane landed at the Brussels airport and Dana deplaned, a man standing inside the terminal picked up his cellular phone and reported in.

David Haynes said, "Do you have transportation?"

"No, but I can - "