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hurry.”
    “Signorina, Signorina.” Silvestri, who had been allowed back into the museum area,
    raced toward her, wringing his hands. “We must find who’s doing this.”
    “And we will,” she assured him. “I’m going to leave someone with you until I get
    back. Even as we speak equipment is being set up in your office to monitor phone calls
    and all messengers will be checked.” She put a delicate hand on his arm. “I promised
    you, it will be all right. Believe me.”
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    Until Twilight
    She cast a look at one of the men in dark suits who hurried forward and led the
    young director toward his office.
    “This way, Signorina Sebastiani,” one of the uniforms said. “The Minister of
    Finance has ordered a car at your disposal.”
    She smiled at him and he saw the relief wash over her that her old family friend,
    Arturo Franzoni, now in the Italian Cabinet, would give her ready transportation to
    help his policemen in the Finanza. “Please tell Minister Franzoni I am most grateful.”
    “ Sì, he says he will do anything to aid you, Signorina. Meanwhile, please, the driver is waiting for you at the front door.”

    Their driver had once been a professional racer, she was certain of it by the way
    she’d left her breath behind her as he left the curb. He zoomed along in his little dove-gray car to deposit them blocks away, along the Arno River. Once inside the famed
    offices of the de’Medici, now a museum, she and Lane went through a similar routine
    until the purse with its lethal contents rested in another lead-lined box. And more
    tension-filled time while she defused each one. More than two hours later, the same
    driver sped them back to the Bargello. There, Lane followed Isabella up the long steps
    to the upper level of the medieval jail where now the museum offices were located.
    Finanza polizia lined the corridors. More police were on the upper balcony in front of a heavy carved wooden door, including two metropolitan detectives in suits.
    One of them greeted her. “Another one for your clever hands, Bella,” he told her.
    “Let’s hope you can take care of things before the poor director pisses himself.”
    “Of course, Aldo,” she said calmly, addressing him by his first name. She ignored
    the slight edge of sarcasm in his voice. Many of the local police departments had their own bomb disposal unit but Isabella had an international reputation for handling
    explosives and she was always at the top of everyone’s list when an incident occurred.
    The metropolitan polizia deferred to her with reluctant and grudging admiration.
    Aldo stepped forward now as if to prevent Lane from entering the museum.
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    Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
    “He’s with me,” she snapped.
    “ Scusi , Signorina Sebastiani. But you know we must be extremely careful.”
    She cast an impatient eye at him and said to Lane. “Show them your creds so we
    can get on with this.”
    Seconds later one of the uniformed men pulled the wooden door open and Isabella
    swept inside, followed by Lane. Silvestri was standing just inside, flanked by yet more local polizia , wringing his hands. His face was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.
    “ Grazie, grazie , for coming so quickly, Signorina,” he babbled. “I left everything exactly as I found it.”
    “Fine,” she muttered. “Good.” She looked at her old friend, the detective. “Cappi?
    Are my things still here?”
    “I made sure of it,” he told her. “We also have a small tape recorder left inside the
    purse.”
    “Another message?” she asked, her eyes on the small bomb laid out on Silvestri’s
    desk.
    “Sì. We have examined the tape recorder. Ten years old. Japanese make.”
    “Too old and too inexpensive to trace for ownership. Only fingerprints or trace
    evidence will help us learn who did this,” she concluded as she bent to the bomb. Then
    she began the process of dismantling it, exactly as she had done on the previous one.
    The TATP bomb