The Danger

something wholly different. I felt the fire run through her in return and then drain away, and I let go of her thinking that the basement had taken charge of me right and proper.

I smiled. Shrugged my shoulders. Made no comment.

'Did you mean that?' Alessia demanded.

'Not exactly,' I said. 'It was a surprise.'

'It sure was.' She looked at me assessingly and then wandered away on her own, not looking back.

'You've pruned her off the trellis,' Popsy said, amused. 'The doctor kissed the patient; most unprofessional.'

'I'll kiss Dominic too if it will make you feel better.'

She took my arm and we strolled in comradely fashion back to the Land Rover and the rug. Miranda was lying on her back, dozing, with Dominic loosely sprawled over her stomach. His eyes, too, were shut, his small face relaxed, the contours rounded and appealing.

'Poor little sweetheart,' Popsy murmured. 'Pity to wake them.'

Miranda woke naturally when Alessia returned, and with Dominic still asleep we set off on the short drive home. One of the bumps in the rutted Down track must have roused him, though, because I saw him half sit up in Miranda's arms and then lie back, with Miranda's head bent over him as if to listen.

Alessia gave me a wild look and she too bent her head to listen, but I could hear nothing above the sound of the engine, and anyway it didn't seem to me that Dominic's lips were moving.

'Stop the car,' Alessia said to Popsy, and Popsy, hearing the urgency, obeyed.

Dominic was humming.

For a few seconds the low noise went on: randomly, I thought at first, though certainly not on one note.

'Do you know what that is?' Alessia said incredulously, when the child stopped. 'I simply don't believe it.'

'What, then?' I said.

For answer she hummed the phrase again, exactly as Dominic had done. He sat up in Miranda's arms and looked at her, clearly responding.

'He knows it!' Alessia exclaimed. 'Dominic knows it.'

'Yes, darling,' Popsy said patiently. 'We can see he does. Can we drive on now?'

'You don't understand,' Alessia said breathlessly. 'That's out of Il Trovatore. The Soldiers' Chorus.'

My gaze sharpened on her face. 'Do you mean…' I began.

She nodded. 'I heard it five times a day for six weeks.'

'What are you talking about?' Miranda asked. 'Dominic doesn't know any opera. Neither John nor I like it. Dominic only knows nursery rhymes. He picks those up like lightning. I play them to him on cassettes.'

'Holy hell,' I said in awe. 'Popsy, drive home. All is fine.'

With good humour Popsy restarted the car and took us back to the house, and once there I went over to my car to fetch my briefcase and carry it into the kitchen.

'Miranda,' I said, 'I'd like Dominic to look at a picture.

She was apprehensive but didn't object. She sat at the kitchen table with Dominic on her lap, and I took out one of the photostats of Giuseppe and laid it face up on the table. Miranda watched Dominic anxiously for a frightened reaction, but none came. Dominic looked at the face calmly for a while and then turned away and leaned against Miranda, his face to her neck.

With a small sigh I put the picture back in the case and accepted Popsy's offer of a universal cup of tea.

'Ciao, bambino,' Dominic said.

My head and Alessia's snapped round as if jerked by strings.

'What did you say?' Alessia asked him, and Dominic snuggled his face deeper into Miranda's neck.

'He said 'Ciao, bambino' ' I said.

'Yes… that's what I thought.'

'Does he know any Italian?' I asked Miranda.

'Of course not.'

'Goodbye, baby,' Popsy said. 'Isn't that what he said?'

I took the picture of Giuseppe out of the case again and laid it on the table.

'Dominic, dear little one,' I said, 'what was the man called?'

The great eyes swivelled my way, but he said nothing.

Was his name… Michael?' I asked.

Dominic shook his head: a fraction only, but a definite negative.

'Was his name David?'

Dominic shook his head.

'Was his name Giuseppe?'

Dominic's eyes didn't waver. He shook his head.

I thought a bit. 'Was his name Peter?'

Dominic did nothing except look at me.

'Was his name Dominic?' I said.

Dominic almost smiled. He shook his head.

'Was his name John?'

He shook his head.

'Was his name Peter?'

Dominic was still for a long time; then, slowly, very slightly, he nodded.

'Who's Peter?' Alessia asked.

'The man who took him for a ride in a boat.'

Dominic stretched out a hand and briefly touched the pictured face with one finger before drawing back.

'Ciao, bambino,' he said again, and tucked his head against his mother.

One thing was crystal clear, I thought. It wasn't Giuseppe-Peter who had most frightened Dominic. The baby, like Alessia herself, had liked him.

Eagler said, 'I thought the boy wouldn't talk. Superintendent Rightsworth told me he'd tried, but the child was in shock, and the mother was being obstructive about treatment.'

'Mm,' I said. 'Still, that was yesterday. Today Dominic has positively identified the photostat as being one of the kidnappers, known to him as Peter.'

'How reliable do you think the kid is?'

'Very. He certainly knew him.'

'All right. And this Peter - and I suppose he's the one the kidnappers are talking about on those tapes - he's Italian?'

'Yes. Dominic had learned two words from him: ciao bambino.'

'Luv-a-duck,' Eagler said quaintly.

'It seems also,' I said, 'as if Giuseppe-Peter has a fondness for Verdi. Alessia Cenci said her kidnappers played three of Verdi's operas to her, over and over. Dominic is humming the Soldiers' Chorus from Il Trovatore, which was one of them. Did you by any chance find a cassette player in that house?'

'Yes, we did.' He sounded as if nothing ever again would surprise him. 'It was up in the room where the kid was kept. There were only two tapes there. One was pop music, and yes, laddie, the other was Verdi. Il Trovatore.'

'It's conclusive, then, isn't it?' I said. 'We have a practitioner.'

'A what?'

'Practitioner. Sorry; it's what in Liberty Market we call a man who kidnaps on a regular basis. Like a safe-breaker or a con-man. His work.'

'Yes,' Eagler agreed. 'We have a practitioner; and we have you. I wonder if Giuseppe-Peter knows of the existence of Liberty Market.'

'His constant enemy,' I said.

Eagler almost chuckled. 'I dare say you made things too hot for him in his part of Italy, flooding the place with what is obviously a recognisable portrait. It would be ironic if he'd decided to move to England and came slap up against you all over again. He'd be speechless if he knew.'

'I dare say he'll find out,' I said. 'The existence of Liberty Market isn't a total secret, even though we don't advertise. Any kidnapper of experience would hear of us sometime. Perhaps one of these days there'll be a ransom demand saying no police and no Liberty Market either.'

'I meant you, personally, laddie.'

'Oh.'I paused. 'No, he wouldn't know that. He saw me once, in Italy, but not here. He didn't know then who I worked for. He didn't even know I was British.'

'He'll have a fit when he finds his picture all over England too.' Eagler sounded cheerfully smug. 'Even if we don't catch him, we'll chase him back where he came from in no time,'

'You know,' I said tentatively, 'you and Pucinelli might both flash that picture about among horse people, not just put it up in police stations. Many crooks are ostensibly sober citizens, aren't they? Both of the kidnaps that we're sure are his work are to do with racing. They're the people who'd know him. Someone, somewhere, would know him. Perhaps the racing papers would print it?'

'It's a pity I can't compare notes with your friend Pucinelli,' Eagler said. 'I sometimes think police procedures do more to prevent the exchange of information than to spread it. Even in England it's hard enough for one county to get information from another county, let alone talk to regional coppers in Europe.'

'I don't see why you can't. I can tell you his 'phone number. You could have an interpreter this end, standing by.'

'Ring Italy? It's expensive, laddie.'

'Ah.' I detected also in his voice the reluctance of many of the British to make overseas calls: almost as if the process itself was a dangerous and difficult adventure, not just a matter of pressing buttons.

'If I want to know anything particular,' Eagler said, 'I'll ask you to ask him. Things I learn from you come under the heading of information received, origin unspecified.'

'So glad.'

He chuckled. 'We had our three kidnappers in court this morning: remanded in custody for a week. They're still saying nothing. I've been letting them stew while I listened to all the tapes, but now, tonight, and with what you've just told me, I'll bounce them out of their socks.'