"Clean her up and see that she's aware enough when I get back." Jean did up his belt, pulled on his shirt and, carrying his shoes, left the bedroom.

Marie sighed and looked at the curled up body of Monique on the soiled satin sheets.

"He is quite a monster, no?" She said grabbing Monique's arm and hauling her into a half sitting position.

"That was a mild session, cher. When he comes back it will be even rougher . . . and far more creative." She dragged Monique to the edge of the bed and ordered her onto her feet.

"I- I can't-"

"Get up, cher; I don't want to have to add to your discomfort." She dragged Monique to her feet and pushed her toward the bathroom.

"Get that gown off."

Monique leaned against the wall and struggled to slide the gown she'd been forced to wear, off her shoulders. Marie pulled it the rest of the way off and pulled her into the shower stall, turning on the hot water.

"Oh! That's scalding!" Monique pushed her hands in front of her and backed into the corner.

Marie adjusted the taps and stepped into the shower with her.

"We are going to clean you all up, cher."

***************

Jean met with his new team and explained what he had learned from their prisoner and what he wanted done.

"She was most forthcoming but I think she still knows more. When we made the unsuccessful attack on the restaurant she described the other patrons and one was a young woman, likely a local, because she headed down the trot toward the docked boats." Jean repeated the description.

"That sounds like the woman I saw!" One of the men exclaimed.

"What woman?"

"I was inside the bank when she came in. She went straight into the diretorre's office. I thought that worth watching a bit."

Jean looked at the man. "Very good, Pietro. He nodded with interest. "Daniel, take Alphonso with you get back to the docks and find out if she has a boat there."

"I told you we would look good, my friend." Alphonso steered around a slow truck and gave him a rude honk on the way past. "You were right and if we find this other woman," he made another gesture with his hand. "Maybe she will provide a little entertainment for us for a change."

"I think we had better just follow Jean's orders; he will reward our good work appropriately."

Alphonso pulled into a parking space on the marina lot and they both got out and started down the trot to the various marine shops and restaurants. After several dead ends, they stopped at S.J. Petrolia, marine supplies.

Daniel greeted the man leaning on the counter reading a supply catalogue.

"My friend and I are looking for a young lady who owns a medium-sized outboard, white with a dark stained, wooden prow cover."

The man looked up and the skin around his eyes wrinkled.

"You don't know very much about boats, do you?"

"What's to know? You know the boat and the woman or not?"

"From that description?" The man laughed. "I could count hundreds of boats that come in here."

Alphonso put a hand on his friend's arm and stepped up to the counter.

"I understand what you are saying. Maybe this is someone who has a berth here . . . a permanent berth."

"Still in the high figures. Describe the woman."

"All I know is that she is young, has short hair and drives a medium-sized white outboard." Alphonso leaned close to the man. "This is important- what is your name?"

"Petrolia. Salvatore Petrolia."

"Okay, this is very important Salvatore. Our employer is very eager to meet this young woman and it is not in his manner to not have his way."

Petrolia shrugged. "What can I say? There are many young women with boats here. Ask at the harbor master's station why not."

Daniel was wandering around looking at the merchandise and he found a rack with travel maps and vacation getaways. He picked up one map and opened it up to see what it showed and saw a red pencil line running from the harbor, out of the gulf and east along the Mediterranean coast.

"What's this?" he asked, interrupting.

"A friend of mine wanted to take a trip then he didn't come back in." Another shrug.

"Who is, A.S.?" Daniel asked, pointing to the initials on the map.

"Who cares," Alphonso grabbed the map and dropped it on the counter. "We aren't looking for a vacation."

Petrolia stepped back at the sudden flare of annoyance.

"A friend of mine, Angelo Spataro."

Both men froze and stared at the shop owner.

"What?"

"Angelo Spataro you said."

"Yes." Petrolia frowned. "Now if you want to know about the women on the marina, that's the man to ask." He gave a short laugh.

Jean listened to the call, his face set in a mask of fury.

"I will call you back."

He stormed out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the basement, his robe flapping open exposing the pale nude body underneath.

"Wake him up." Jean commanded when he entered the room where Angelo was still tied to a chair.

"He is losing his strength, padrone."

"I don't care. Wake him!"

The man tossed a dipper full of water in Angelo's face and shook him lightly. Angelo sputtered and groaned, his eyes squinting open and then widening when he saw Jean.

"Answer a question and I will consider being more lenient."

Angelo nodded and shrugged. What option did he have?

"A young woman, has a berth at the marina near the Bank of St. George. White boat with stained prow cover. Outboard. Who is she?"

His swollen lip made answering difficult and he pleaded ignorance, there were many women with boats there. They all came from different towns around the gulf, he said.

"I want the name of this one. It would go far toward relieving your situation."

"There is one," he slurred. "She works somewhere in the south end at a florist shop. I think the boat is named the Swallow."

"Her name."

"I have no idea. I have never met this woman, just seen her around."

Jean pondered the man's veracity then turned and left without another word. Angelo relaxed until his eyes landed on the battered corpse of a young man in another chair across the room.

***********

Petrolia groaned when the doorbell chimed and the two men returned to his shop. He had hoped that sending them to the harbormaster that he had seen the last of them.

"The Swallow," Daniel said without preamble.

Petrolia paused. He knew whose boat that was and he was loathe to reveal anything to these two.

"Well?"

"Not sure I know that one..."

Alphonso came around the counter and slammed Petrolia head first onto the scarred wooden surface.

"Name."

"René Morreau. She lives in Portovenere but I don't know where."

Alphonso let him up and straightened his shirt.

"That wasn't so difficult now, was it? I want to impress upon you just what will happen if this woman receives a phone call or any communication from you that we have been here looking for her."

"I understand."

"Yes, I'm sure, but I said I wanted to impress upon you what will happen in that event."

Petrolia screamed aloud as his arm was bent over the counter's edge until it broke. He fell to the floor sobbing and stayed there long after the door chime settled to silence.

***********