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Oskar Kappler did not trust his voice to speak at first.

He cleared his throat, then said, “Jawohl.”

Ernst Beck held out his hand.

After a moment’s confusion, Kappler put the message in it.

Beck then went over to the side table and took the box of matches from the ashtray, struck one, and, holding the thin paper over the ashtray, put the tip of the flame to the paper. He let go of it just as it went up in a flash.

Oskar Kappler’s mind began to race.

There is no telling how much time I have—when did that twenty-four-hour clock start?

And how am I supposed to find this Jupiter? Just go sit in my office at Messina and wait for the phone to ring?

Or wait for the gottverdammt Gestapo to come arrest me first?

And . . . what do I do about Lucia?

You fool—you do absolutely nothing with your folly!

Beck turned to him and could see that he was mentally distressed.

“I know this is difficult, Oskar. I am here to help, including now getting you to connect with this Jupiter.” He glanced at his watch. “I believe that I need to return to Messina. Would you like a ride?”

XI

[ONE]

Hotel Michelangelo

Palermo, Sicily

0905 1 June 1943

Dick Canidy had just finished eating the last of four eggs that had been on the plate and was draining his coffee mug to wash it down when there was a knock on Jimmy Skinny’s office door—and it immediately swung open.

Canidy turned to see what he almost instantly realized was probably the same view that whoever was in Room 802 had seen an hour earlier.

Vito the midget stood there with a man in a suit towering behind him.

Jesus, Shorty! Is this all you do all day?

By the way, your boss ain’t here. . . .

Vito hesitated entering, looking somewhat surprised to see only Canidy in the office. He finally walked in and motioned for the man in the suit to follow.

Canidy, now getting a better view, sized up the man. He noticed he had a white rose in the lapel of his rumpled two-piece suit.

What the hell is that supposed to signify? Anything?

He was around five-nine and 190, maybe thirty years old, and with gentle Germanic features. His longish thin dark hair framed a somewhat friendly but inquisitive face. As his eyes met Canidy’s, Canidy nodded once but said nothing as he turned his attention to refilling his coffee mug.

Vito then said something to Canidy. Canidy had absolutely no idea what exactly it was, but it clearly had the tone of an order.

Canidy looked at him and shrugged.