Those early years had left scars. The shrinks at Mossad knew none of this, nor did anyone else. These were Rosenthal's own private demons. The solitary bravado of his early years had cracked. He hated operating alone. As a predator he had gone from a lone wolf to developing a pack mentality. Never again would he hunt alone. He would never go back to the camps, never go back to the sleepless nights, worrying that he might let something slip in his dreams. No, that was all behind him. Now he did everything possible to stack the deck in his favor.

And his discerning eye didn't like the lack of cover on the streets. Over the last twenty-four hours Rosenthal had scoured the file Freid man had given him. It was obvious it had been heavily censored. Much of it was blacked out, and there were large gaps where entire operations had been omitted. Rosenthal had no doubt the old man had personally removed the information. Part of it was for reasons of compartmentalization and secrecy, but Rosenthal knew the old man too well to think that was the only reason. Freidman had removed information that might cause Rosenthal to hesitate rather than assassinate. Rosenthal was no novice. Although he had not yet reached the age of thirty he had been doing this work for close to a decade. Despite the heavily censored file, Rosenthal knew that this Donatella Rahn had done a lot for Israel, but this was the ugly side of his business. One day you're a prized asset; the next day you're a liability.

As the taxi neared The Galleria Vittorio, Rosenthal told the driver they were close enough to the hotel and asked him to stop. He paid the man and got out. He gave a quick glance over both shoulders and then entered the magnificent nineteenth century architectural structure. The Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II was laid out in the formation of a cross, the north-south section connecting the Piazza del Duomo and the Piazza della Scala. Instead of open air between the buildings the large bisecting avenues were covered with an ornate iron framework and glass. It was closed to all but foot traffic. The floor was made of an intricate mosaic of colorful tiles and elegant shops lined the walk.

Rosenthal stopped into a bookshop and purchased a copy of the London Times. He loitered near the front of the shop for a moment to see if he was being followed and then continued on his way out the north end of the structure and across the Piazza della Scala. On the other end of the plaza he leaned against a light post and acted as if he were reading the paper. After several minutes a maroon Flat sedan pulled up to the curb and Rosenthal got in.

It was the man from the airport. He pulled back into traffic and said, "You're clean."

"Good. And the woman?"

"She's at her office. Yanta followed her to work this morning. She got there at nine and hasn't left."

"What about her apartment?"

"We decided to wait for you before we made that move."

Rosenthal nodded. The man driving the car was Jordan Sunberg. Although he looked a good ten years older than Rosenthal he was actually two years younger. Sunberg had a thick black beard and an unruly head of curly hair. The two had worked with each other on many occasions in recent years. They were two of Freidman's favorite katsas. "Did you get the things I requested?"

"Yes. It's all back at the flat."

Rosenthal checked his watch. "Good. We'll make our move this evening."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Rapp watched Anna twirl around the middle of the beautiful room, her arms spread and her little chin tipped up toward the vaulted hand-painted ceiling of the fifteenth-century monastic cell. She could not believe this was their hotel room and not a museum. Rapp couldn't have been happier over her reaction. Watching her spin around in circles made him think of what Anna must have been like as a little girl. He felt a brief pang of sadness that he'd missed so much of her life. It was irrational, he knew. There was no way they could have known each other. She had grown up in Chicago and he in Virginia. Besides, if they had met it would have virtually guaranteed that they would not be together right now.

Anna moved across the room and out onto the small balcony overlooking the inner courtyard. Mitch followed her and wrapped his arms around her waist. They stood together, front to back, looking down on the immaculately manicured courtyard. Every tree, every bush, every table, every umbrella was perfect.

Anna reached up with her left hand and touched Mitch's face. Turning her head back she found his lips and gave him a long kiss. As their lips parted she said, "I love you so much"

"I love you, too." He squeezed her tightly and began kissing her neck. After a minute he led her back toward the king-size bed.

"What are you doing?" asked Anna in a playful tone. "I'm trying to seduce you." He held her tight, continued the kissing and made the last step toward the bed.

Anna grabbed his hands, twisted free and pushed him onto the bed. Mitch willingly let her win and landed comfortably in the middle of the bed. With his hand held out he gestured for Anna to join him. To his great disappointment all he got was a defiant pose; hands on hips with a shaking head. "Come on, honey," he pleaded.

Nope. We only in Milan for a day and a half, and I'm not going to spend it in bed."

"Why not?"

"Don't ask stupid questions." "Come on," he said baiting her. "It won't take long."

"Maybe for you."

Rapp laughed. "Now ... now. Be nice."

"It has nothing to do with being nice. I'm being a realist. If I get into bed with you, we'll have sex, and then you'll fall asleep. I don't want to sleep right now. I want to get out and see the city." She started for the bathroom. "Besides, you're always better when I make you wait."

Rapp stared up at the mural on the ceiling. "I'll have to work on that." He let out a loud groan that was mostly for show and then got off the bed. After peeling off his clothes, he strutted into the bathroom.

Anna turned from the mirror where she was touching up her makeup. She looked at her boyfriend's naked body and asked in an incredulous tone, "You can't want it that bad?"

"You wish," grinned Rapp as slapped her on the butt and continued past her and into the shower.

After the shower Rapp went out into the bedroom and put on a fresh set of clothes. He stood over his suitcase and wondered what was the best way to handle his next move. He was tempted to assemble the gun and slip it into the specially designed interior pocket of his leather jacket, but he knew that was an invitation for disaster. Anna would wrap her arms around him the second they got outside and she would check for the weapon. She always did. She had gotten used to it, at least in America. She had been raised in a house full of guns. Her father was a cop as well as two other brothers. Rapp had met the family, and like all good Chicago cops they carried their sidearm with them when they were off duty.

The best way to handle it with Anna was to be up front, but then again if the room was bugged he didn't want to get into it with her here. He made the decision to tell her when they got outside. Rapp picked up his suitcase and carried it into the drawing room. After setting it on the ottoman he quickly grabbed the hair dryer, the can of shaving cream and the radio and pulled them apart. In less than two minutes he had the weapon assembled and the items put back together. Rapp's leather jacket was on the arm of the chair. He opened it and put the automatic into an inside pocket designed to conceal the weapon.

When Anna was ready they went downstairs to La Veranda for a quick bite to eat. They had the restaurant to themselves. It was post breakfast and just prior to the lunch rush. Anna ordered a bowl of soup and Mitch ordered a roast beef sandwich for which he received a concerned look from his girlfriend.