POV: DIMITRI / MARCO
Dawn came gray over Rome.
Dimitri hadn't slept. He stood at the study window with a cup of coffee that had gone cold in his hand, watching the light move across the rooftops, when Marco knocked once and came in.
"You're up early," Marco said.
"I haven't been to bed."
Marco glanced at the untouched whiskey glass on the desk, then at Dimitri's face. He set the folder he was carrying down beside it. "Something happened."
"Dante called me last night."
Marco went still. "On the private line?"
"On the private line."
"Someone sold it," Marco said.
"Someone did. I want to know who by the end of the day." Dimitri turned from the window. "Sit down."
