The Villa

identity of his traveling companion, or I should say the woman we believe to be traveling with him, only yesterday. Signorina Chezzo's credit card has several extensive charges. I am even now waiting for further information."
    "Of course he used her credit card," Sophia said impatiently. "He's an idiot, but he's not a fool. He's certainly smart enough to cover his tracks there and to get out of Italy the quickest and easiest way. Over the border into Switzerland, I'd imagine. He contacted Jerry from the Como district. The Swiss border is minutes away. The guards there barely look at a passport."
    "We're aware of this, and the Swiss authorities are assisting us. It's only a matter of time."
    "Time is a valuable commodity. My family has suffered personally, emotionally and financially for months. Until Donato is apprehended and questioned, until we have the answers and assurances that no other sabotage is planned, we can't end it. My father was part of this, how much a part I don't yet know. Can you understand how this feels?"
    "Yes, I believe I understand, signorina ."
    "My father is dead. I need to know who killed him, and why. If I have to hunt down Don myself, if I have to confront Jerry DeMorney personally and take on the entire La
    Coeur organization to get those answers, believe me, that's what I'll do."
    "You're impatient."
    "On the contrary, I've been remarkably patient." She got to her feet. "I need results."
    He held up a finger as the phone rang. His expression changed slightly as he listened to the stream of information. When he hung up, he folded his hands. "You have your results. The Swiss police have just taken your cousin into custody."
     
    If was an education to watch her in action. Tyler didn't say a word, wasn't sure he'd have gotten one in if he'd tried. She'd peppered DeMarco with demands, questions, scribbling down information in her notebook. When she'd marched out of DeMarco's office, Tyler had to lengthen his considerable stride just to keep up. She moved like a rocket with a cell phone attached to her ear.
    He couldn't understand half of what she was saying anyway. She started in Italian, switched to French somewhere along the line and went back to Italian with a few short orders in English. She mowed her way through the tourists thronging the narrow streets, clipped busily over the pretty bridges and beelined across squares. And never stopped talking, never stopped moving, even when she had to cock the little phone between her ear and shoulder to drag out her Filofax and make more notes.
    She passed shop windows without so much as a glance. He figured if she breezed by Armani without it putting a hitch in her stride, nothing was going to stop her.
    At the main dock she jumped on a water taxi, and he caught the word for airport in her brisk stream of Italian. He figured it was a good thing he had his passport in his pocket, or he'd be left in her dust.
    She didn't sit even then, but braced herself on the rail behind the driver and made still more calls. Fascinated, he wedged himself in on the other side and watched her. The wind teased her short cap of hair, the sun bounced off the dark lenses of her glasses. Venice washed by behind her, an ancient and exotic backdrop to a contemporary woman with places to go and people to see.
    Small wonder he was crazy about her.
    Tyler folded his arms, tipped back his head and let himself enjoy the last breezes of the city built on water. If he knew his woman, and he did, they were going to be spending some time in the Alps.
    "Tyler!" He tuned back in when she snapped her fingers at him. "How much money do you have? Cash?"
    "On me? I don't know. Couple hundred thousand in lire, maybe a hundred American."
    "Good." She swung toward the stairs as the boat docked. "Pay the driver."
    "Yes, ma'am."
    She cut her way through the airport just as she had through the city streets. Per her orders, the corporate jet was waiting, fueled and cleared for the flight. Less than an hour after she'd received the news her cousin was in custody, she was strapped in for takeoff. And for the first time in that hour, she turned off her phone, shut her eyes and took a breath.
    "Sophia?"
    " Che ? What?"
    "You kick ass."
    She opened her eyes again, and her smile came slow and sharp. "Damn straight."
     
    He'd been taken from a tiny resort nestled in the mountains north of Chur and near the Austrian border. The farthest he'd thought ahead was perhaps getting over that border, or