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“Settle down, my friend,” Max said when passenger after passenger came out the door but not my Butterfly.
“She has to have flown first class. Why wasn’t she one of the first off the plane?”
“Let me check.” Max walked over to the gate agent, who checked her computer, then shook her head.
“She wasn’t on the plane,” he reported.
“That can’t be right.” I pulled out my mobile and checked the flight number and arrival time. I had the right one, so where was she?
When I rang Penelope and it went straight to voicemail, the second call I made was to Nemesis.
“Hey, Michelangelo. Got our girl?”
“Actually, I do not. She wasn’t on the flight.”
“What do you mean?”
“I checked with the gate agent, who said she never boarded.”
“Have you tried contacting her? Wait, sorry. That was a stupid question. It’s not an excuse, but I’ve been traveling all day, and my brain is mush. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll see what I can find out.”
When I received a text a short while later, I expected it to be from her. It wasn’t.
As I read the words on the screen, sent from an unknown number, the blood in my veins turned ice cold.
I know who you are, and if you ever want to see your Butterfly again, you’ll follow my instructions to the letter. Tell no one about this message, or she will die before sunrise.
This was my worst nightmare come true. I ran my hand through my hair, turning in a circle and praying I’d see her. Hoping beyond hope that this wasn’t really happening.
“Brando? What is wrong?” Max said, putting his hand on my arm.
I jerked away from him. “Nothing. I need to make a call.”
“Wait!” he shouted when I stalked away. “Tell me what’s happened so I can help.”
I spun around on him. “What are you even doing here, Max? Why were you in Tropea?” Rather than wait for his answer, I rushed off again, searching for somewhere private to call Typhon, hoping Max wasn’t following me.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw him standing in the same spot but on his mobile.
I kept going, went around a corner, and when I saw a woman exit a family restroom, ducked inside and locked the door.
“Someone’s got Penelope,” I said when Typhon answered my call. “She wasn’t on her flight. I received a text a few minutes ago from whoever has her. It said he knows who I am and that I have to follow his instructions—and this is a direct quote—‘if I ever want to see my Butterfly again.’”
“Where are you?”
“At the airport in Florence.”
“I know that. Where exactly?”
“Terminal B, and what the hell, Typhon? I just told you someone abducted Penelope.”
“I heard you. Where’s Maximo?”
“Probably looking for me. How did you even know he was here?”
“I just did. Listen, it’s imperative you get out of the airport now. Find the nearest lift and take it all the way to the lowest level. Go to door twenty-seven. I’ll be there, waiting.”
“You’re here?”