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arrived in Innsbruck, and had noticed at the time an isolated area with three phones.
    It was a few minutes after nine on a Thursday morning, and the bank was just opening. He stepped inside, hesitated for a moment, shifting his eyes about the room and finally spotting a camera along a white marble shelf, and then proceeded into the phone booth, closing the door behind him.
    He sat for a minute wondering if he should call Toni. He had left a message on her home phone and at her office in Rome prior to leaving the states, but as far as he knew she had not gotten back with him. She was working out of the office for a while, they had said. Which meant she was probably undercover somewhere on her own. He punched in a long sequence of numbers. He had set up a phone account with a bogus address, so he reversed the charges to that number.
    After a few rings a man picked up. “Cambio Computers. How may I help you?” he said in perfect Italian.
    So that’s what they were calling themselves this week. “May I speak with Toni please?”
    â€œI’m sorry,” the man said, switching to English. “We don’t have a Toni working here. Are you sure you have the correct number?”
    â€œCut the bullshit, pal. I know she works there because I used to work with her.”
    There was silence on the other end.
    Jake knew the call was being recorded, so he decided to take the direct route. “Listen. This is Jake Adams. I’m a friend of Toni’s. I must talk with her immediately. It’s important.”
    â€œYou’re Jake Adams?” the man asked incredulously.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œHow do I know this?”
    â€œBecause I’m telling you, asshole.”
    Slight laugh on the other end. “I mean...tell me something only you would know.”
    â€œListen, I don’t have...” Jake noticed an older woman hanging around the door checking her purse for change. Then she went into the phone booth next to his. Jake lowered his voice. “I don’t have time for this.” He hesitated. This was one of those times he wished he could reach through the phone lines like a cartoon character and choke the guy. He calmed himself for the sake of his throbbing head. “All right. A few years back I worked with Toni and the Naval Investigative Service. We had a little run-in with some Hungarians in her apartment building, where we had to cancel their visas forever. Is that specific enough for you? Or would you like names on this unsecured line?”
    â€œNo, no. I’m sorry. I just—”
    â€œForget it. Just tell me where I can find Toni.”
    The man hesitated. “She’s working out of town.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œI can’t say. It’s in the Alps. I could leave her a message from you.”
    â€œWhat’s her beeper number?”
    â€œShe doesn’t have one,” the man said, as if Jake should know that. “She goes through a message service in Rome. Calls in from time to time.” He gave Jake her service number.
    Jake thanked the guy and hung up. He checked the bank lobby, which had started to fill up with customers now, and then punched in Toni’s number and waited.
    After a few rings a computer voice in Italian came on asking if he wanted to leave a message for Toni. He left her a short, yet urgent response and then hung up. Next he tapped in a number to Ramstein Air Base, Germany. He still had a few Air Force contacts.
    â€œUSAFE Personnel. This is Sergeant Lyons. How may I help you?”
    It had been a long time since he heard that voice. “Well, Sergeant Lyons. I’d like to know if you ever plan on leaving Germany?”
    â€œCaptain Adams? Is that you?”
    â€œI’m not a captain anymore, you know.”
    â€œI think I could make a few calls to the Pentagon and get your butt recalled to active duty,” she said laughing.
    When Jake had first met Deshia Lyons, she was a