CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
The Fifth Horseman watched the police station from a bit down the street. That was one of the great things about Italy. There was always a handy outdoor café if you needed to keep an eye on a building. And the Mediterranean culture meant you could savor a wine or two as long as you wanted. No one ever rushed you except at the tourist places.
At last, his patience was rewarded, as he knew it would be. Peeters came out with that American-looking gentleman in the suit, and that European woman, also in civilian clothes. Two Italian policemen accompanied them.
Who were those two? Interpol?
The Fifth Horseman felt a little tremor of fear, quickly suppressed. Such an emotion was unworthy of him.
He rose and turned away quickly, fearful Peeters might recognize him. They wer
