The young man and the older woman stood in the shadows of the Ponte Vecchio, the rough tide of the Arno River echoing through the empty streets.

     “Is the van in place?” the woman asked.

     “Yes, Josie,” the young man said, “parked just a few meters away, outside the towing zone, as you requested. And at this hour, it should take the driver no more than five minutes to get to his destination, even at reduced speed.”

     “And was the inside of the van properly padded?” Josie asked. “It doesn’t help anyone if the product gets damaged in transport.”

     “Safe enough for a newborn,” the young man said. “Moving them out was never the problem. Getting them out is what most concerns me.”

     “They’ll make it,” Josie said, lighting a fresh brown cigarette, her face briefly glowing from the flame.      “They’ve got the guts and the plan. All they need is a little luck.”

     “Why’d you let them go in alone?” the young man asked. “Or go in at all, for that matter? We could have found a more experienced team.”

     “It’s their find, Peter,” Josie said, blowing a thin line of smoke skyward. “It belongs to them. They’re the ones who should bring it out. It’s how I want it to go and how Edwards wants it done as well. The fewer hands on this, the better it’s going to be for all concerned. There’s going to be more than enough to keep us occupied once word of the discovery leaks.”

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