Chapter 5
Conti, Italy
Dani
MARCO PONDERED THE threat implicit in his uncle’s statement for a long minute. Then he said, “How interesting. Excuse me just a minute.”
He retrieved his cell phone, laid it flat on the table, turned on the speaker function, and dialed a number.
“American Embassy,” a female voice said.
“Joel Isaacson, please. Marco d’Argenzio calling.”
“One moment, please.”
There was a pause and a click.
“Hello, Marco,” a voice boomed out of the tiny speaker. “How’s my favorite doctor, or should I say, doctors?”
“Hey, Joel,” I said, jumping into the conversation, “we’re both here and we’re on the speaker.”
Marco switched to Italian and said, “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in Italian. How’s my favorite spook?”
“Hush, Marco,” Joel said, “we don’t like to
