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brings you to Rome?” Kilkenny asked.
    â€œBusiness. And you?”
    â€œThe same.”
    â€œDo you run far today?” Hwong asked.
    â€œThat depends on what you think is far. Since you’re having no trouble keeping up with me, I’m guessing you earned that shirt. How’d you finish?”
    â€œThree hours and eighteen minutes.”
    â€œYou beat my personal best,” Kilkenny admitted. “What I’m running today will probably be easy for you. The route is a little more than ten kilometers, but it has a challenging hill near the end. Care to join me?”
    â€œYes,” Hwong beamed, relieved. “This is my first visit to this city, and I do not like to run alone.”
    â€œI’m just getting used to it again. Where are you staying?”
    â€œA hotel near the Spanish Steps.”
    The man thought for a moment. “That’ll add another two K. How are you set for time?”
    â€œI have a meeting at noon.”
    â€œYou’ll be back at your hotel well before then,” Kilkenny promised. “What’s your name?”
    â€œHwong Yi Jie.”
    â€œA pleasure to meet you, Miss Hwong. I’m Nolan Kilkenny.”
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    THEY RAN DOWN THE LUNGOTEVERE, the relatively flat route an easy scenic course for the distance veterans. Hwong stowed her ear-buds so they could talk, and Kilkenny acted as tour guide, pointing out items of interest along the way. Behind them, Liu coordinated the
rotating surveillance of the three cars, never letting the runners out of sight.
    â€œWe’ve finished searching the room,” one of the Italians at Hwong’s hotel called Liu to report. “Her laptop and PDA are clean, and we’ve found no disks or storage devices in the room. The room safe was open and empty, and she’s left nothing with the front desk. She must have what you’re looking for on her.”
    â€œAre you and your men the only ones who have been in the room since she left?” Liu asked.
    â€œ Si. ”
    â€œThen pull them back and await further orders.”
    Liu’s driver followed the two runners as they turned at Ponte Aventino, crossing to the west side of the Tiber into the Trastevere District.
    â€œThe woman has what I want,” Liu told Chin. “Tell the men to be prepared to take her on my orders.”
    â€œWhat about the man running with her?” one of the Italians asked.
    â€œIf he gets in the way,” Liu replied, “kill him.”
    â€œSir,” the driver offered, “if you’re looking for a secluded place to grab the woman, they’re taking the passaggiata to the top of Monte Gianicolo. This early in the morning, only a handful of tourists will be watching the sunrise up on the piazzale.”
    Liu studied the wooded hill rising up ahead. “We’ll follow the runners to the top, then take the woman there.”
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    KILKENNY QUICKENED THE PACE as he led Hwong through the switchback turns in Via Garibaldi.
    â€œThat’s San Pietro in Montorio,” Kilkenny explained with increasingly labored breaths as they sped past a late-fifteenth-century church and convent. “It was built because local tradition once held that Nero crucified the Apostle Peter here. That actually happened on Vatican Hill, not far from the other Saint Peter’s. Up ahead is the Baroque spectacular Fontana dell’Acqua Paulo. The locals call it Fontanone , which means really big fountain.”

    Hwong laughed at Kilkenny’s joke. “Why did they build it?”
    â€œAccording to the plaque inside, it celebrates the restoration of the Trajan Aqueduct in the early sixteen hundreds. The imperial Romans used triumphal arches to commemorate their success in war. Their descendants were happy to get fresh drinking water.”
    Kilkenny and Hwong veered right at the fountain, straining on the increasing grade of the road as they climbed the Passaggiata del Gianicolo.