Harvath knew that there wasn’t a chance in hell Adara Nidal was going to return to the Capri Palace. She knew they were on to her and most likely she wouldn’t even return to Capri. What they did have going for them was that, for once, they had surprised her. According to Harris, Adara-or Penny, as he continually referred to her-was planning to check out soon. She had said that she was about to change the world, but Harris said he thought she had some business deal cooking and was speaking metaphorically. Not only did he have no idea where she was going, he had absolutely no idea how literally she had been speaking.
Harvath cracked the fire-stair door and looked out into the hall once more. The coast was clear. While Harvath held the Browning on Harris, Meg slipped into the hall and walked toward the elevators. She picked up a house phone and dialed housekeeping.
“Housekeeping. May I help you?” said the voice on the other end of the line.
“Well, someone better,” said Meg, adopting a haughty tone. “I want fresh towels placed in my room, three-twelve, before I return from dinner.” Then she hung up before housekeeping could ask her name. While Adara Nidal might have told Harris her name was Penny Stratton, there was no telling what name she had used to register at the Capri Palace. The housekeeping operator was probably offended at having been hung up upon, but doubtless it wasn’t the first time it had happened, nor would it be the last. The Capri Palace was all about impeccable service, no matter how rude the guests. Harvath was sure that the towels would be sent right up.
Right up, was an understatement. Meg had had just enough time to hide herself in another stairway before the maid appeared. The woman knocked once at the door and announced herself before using her passkey to unlock it. She placed a wedge beneath the door to keep it open and walked back into the bathroom. Meg quietly exited the stairwell and made her way down to room 312 as quickly as possible. The maid was startled to see Meg standing in the room when she came out of the bathroom.
“Did you put my extra towels in the bathroom?” asked Meg.
“Yes, Signora.”
“Good.”
“Shall I turn down the bed for you?”
“No. I’ll do it myself when I am ready.”
“Yes, Signora,” said the maid as she gave Meg a wide berth and backed out of the room. Obviously, somebody in housekeeping had passed the word that the woman in 312 was not very nice. “Buona notte.”
The maid closed the door behind her, and several moments later there was a knock from Harvath. Meg opened the door, and Harvath shoved Harris into the room with the muzzle of the Browning. He sat him down in a chair against the wall as he began to tear apart the room. He was looking for anything Adara might have left behind indicating where she was going or what her plans were.
New clothes, many with tags still on them, hung in the closet. All of her cosmetics were new as well. Harvath found a bottle of Caprissimo perfume in the bathroom and popped his head out for a moment to show Meg. He continued his search under the bathroom sink, behind the dresser, inside and underneath drawers, all throughout the closets, under the mattresses, and behind the headboard. He even looked for loose pieces of carpeting. There was nothing.
Going back through the room a second time, Harvath noticed several foreign newspapers stacked on the desk, all folded over to the same story. Le Monde, Der Spiegel, The Times of London, and The International Herald Tribune each carried a piece with more or less the same headline, “Israeli and Palestinian Leaders to Meet on Peace.” In light of the failed U.S. attempts at brokering a lasting peace, the European Union had organized a meeting in Italy to try and calm the tensions in the region before they erupted into war. Just like the Americans, they had chosen a serene, bucolic setting similar to Camp David-a sixteenth-century villa called the Villa Aldobrandini, in the hilltop town of Frascati, just outside Rome. Attending would be the Israeli prime minister and, of course, chief Palestinian negotiator Ali Hasan. That was it!
Harvath now knew what Adara Nidal had planned and could pretty much figure out why; all he needed now was how.
After tearing apart the room for a third time, Harvath sat on the edge of the bed and turned on the TV. He handed Meg the newspaper articles, and she immediately came to the same conclusion.
Harvath used the remote to select the automated-checkout feature. He clicked on charges and noticed that the room had not been billed for any faxes or phone calls.
“Did your girlfriend have a cell phone?” asked Harvath without looking at Harris.
“Not that I know of,” he replied.
“Did you see her send or receive any faxes? Did she have a laptop at all that she might have used?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see her talking to anyone else? Maybe someone you didn’t recognize?”
“I never saw anything like that, but I did hear something.”
Harvath turned around to face Harris. “You heard something? What did you hear?”
“We spent a lot of time in my room, you know. Even though she had her own room, I kind of gave her one of my keycards, so she could-”
“You said you overheard something. What was it?”
“I came back to the room one time from the pool, and she was finishing up a phone call.”
“She was using the phone in your room?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“That’s it,” said Harvath, jumping off the bed. He pointed the Browning at Harris. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” asked Harris.
“Your place.”
Harvath called down to the front desk from Harris’s room, and they automatically assumed it was Neal Harris calling. Within ten minutes, a large white envelope was slid under the door, detailing Mr. Harris’s room charges to date. Meg quickly scanned the list while Harvath bound and gagged Harris. She came up with three calls, all to the same phone number. She recognized the city code right away-Rome.