Foreign Affairs

—

The van carrying the musicians made its way, by necessity slowly, down the Amalfi drive, past the Casselli house, and around a bend, where it made a U-turn in a wide place in the road and parked. Daylight was waning, and it would soon be dark.

Everyone except Stone had been chatty on the drive down from Rome, but now an uncommanded silence fell on the little group. Dante, who was their driver, got out his radios and began contacting his various units, inside and outside the house. As the hour neared six-thirty, he a

Everyone did as instructed, then Dante started the van and drove around the corner to the parking area adjoining the house. Stone helped Dino unload his drums in their cases and load them into the elevator. Each man had a wand passed over his body to ensure he had no weapons. The two security men looked inside the drum cases, but not inside the drums.

“Ted,” Jim said, using Stone’s assigned name, as they stepped out of the elevator, “I wish you could see this room and the view—both are spectacular.” He led Stone to the piano, and Stone felt his way around it, opening the lid to the first position, then sitting at the keyboard and playing a few chords. It was a nine-foot Steinway concert grand, the first he had ever played.

Dino, assisted by Jim, unpacked his drums, then knelt behind the bass to open the snare drum and distribute the weapons and spare magazines. Jim stood behind Stone and leaned over as if speaking to him, then tucked the 9mm semiautomatic into his cummerbund and slipped the spare magazine into his pocket. “There’s one in the chamber,” he whispered, “and the safety is on. You are now armed, Ted.”

Dino quickly reassembled the snare drum and arranged his drums and his stool, then did some final tuning of each drum.

Guido found a receptacle to plug in his amp, and Stone gave them a C to tune the stringed instruments by, then they were ready.

Jim spoke without moving his lips. “Dante, the band is in place, and all is well. Guests are being brought upstairs in carloads and are being served drinks and canapés. Three of our red jackets are circulating among the guests. I can see four security guards. Mr. C is not yet in view.”

“Roger,” Dante repeated.

“Ted, it’s seven o’clock,” Jim said. “Count us off.”

Stone did so, and they swung into a medium-tempo version of “C Jam Blues,” to loosen up everybody and get them accustomed to playing together. Stone held his head still, so as not to appear to be watching his hands or looking around. With his peripheral vision he could see the formally dressed and bejeweled crowd. With the end of the number he led the group into a ballad, and some of the guests began dancing.

“Seven-fifteen,” Dante said. “All is on schedule. The number of arriving guests is declining. I count forty-six present, twelve still to arrive.”

Suddenly, a man in a white di

“Sorry to startle you,” Casselli said. “I just want to tell you the band sounds wonderful.”

“Mille grazie,” Stone replied, and continued to play.

Another quarter of an hour passed, and a woman’s voice was heard over the radio. “Hedy is not present in any of the maids’ rooms,” she said. “Nor have we found her anywhere in the house. The security room has been taken and three occupants immobilized and drugged.”

“Roger,” Dante replied. “Guido, as soon as our three officers rejoin the others, you may begin the operation. The time is up to you. A

“Roger wilco,” Guido replied. “Mr. C is in the room, and he likes the music.”

Stone heard all this, and his pulse quickened.

57

They finished playing the number, and Guido set down his guitar in its stand and stepped forward to the microphone. Stone and Dino provided a little fanfare to quiet the crowd.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Guido said. “I’m sure your host, Signor Casselli, would like to say a few words of welcome to you.” There was loud applause, and Guido beckoned Casselli to the microphone and stepped back.

Casselli gave a modest little wave to the group. “Good evening to all of you. It is my great pleasure to welcome you to my new home, and I hope this will be the first of your many visits.” The crowd applauded again. “Also, I would just like to mention that my former residence in Positano is available for purchase.” That got a laugh and another round of applause. Before the noise could die down, Guido stepped forward and pressed his gun against Casselli’s spine. “There is a gun in your back,” he whispered into his ear. “You are under arrest. Do exactly as I say, or you will be shot. Put your hands behind you.”

Stone took off his dark glasses, stood up, and went to Casselli. He grabbed his hands and pulled them behind his back, while Guido applied the plastic tie. The room fell quiet, and then all hell broke loose.

A security guard produced a weapon, pointed it at them, and yelled, “Let him go and step back!” Dino, from his perch behind the drums, stood up, assumed a combat stance, and shot the guard in the chest. At the sound of the shot the crowd began to scream and to try to get out.

Stone and Guido dragged Casselli backward toward the elevator, while Dino and Jim pointed their weapons at the guests and tried to keep them back. Stone and Guido got Casselli onto the elevator and pressed the down button; nothing happened, then the lights went out in the whole house. Pandemonium ensued. Dim emergency lighting came on, and in the dimness the crowd tried to push back against Jim and Dino. Jim fired two rounds into the ceiling, and they stepped back for a moment. Then there was the sound of an engine cranking somewhere outside the house, and the generator started to work. The lights came on, the elevator doors closed, and they started down.

“Good evening, Mr. Casselli,” Stone said, facing the man.

“Who are you?” Casselli demanded. “And what are you doing?”

“We last met in Paris,” Stone said. “Remember the choucroute?”

“Barrington?”

“Yes. And to answer your question, I am assisting the police in your arrest and detention. Now where is Hedy?”

“I don’t know,” Casselli said.

Stone pressed his pistol against Casselli’s right eye. “Just one more time: Where is Hedy?”

“She left my house two nights ago, after she spoke to you on the phone. We have not been able to find her. That is the truth.”

The elevator stopped on the ground floor, and they hustled Casselli out the door, around the hedge, and into a waiting car, next to a policeman. Stone slammed the door. “Enjoy the ride,” he yelled at Casselli, then he turned to the others. “I think we’re needed upstairs,” he said.

Dante joined them, pistol drawn, and they got back into the elevator and rose. They burst into the living room, weapons out in front of them. The guests were all sitting on the floor, their hands on top of their heads. There was gunfire from the rear, toward the kitchens, and Dante led the way toward the gunfire. Another security guard was lying at the entrance to the kitchen with a head wound, and an officer in a red jacket was bleeding from a leg and being attended to by a colleague. Uniformed policemen were now pouring into the house.