They said, “See Naples and then die!” Rachel had thought it was to do with the place’s natural beauty. A misconception she soon lost after climbing down from the C130 troop carrier. Her predecessor’s suspicious death, the murder of a sailor, and an enforced liaison with a chauvinistic and probably corrupt cop saw to that. “See Naples and then die!” Some said the saying was anonymous. Some attributed it to Goethe. Still, others said it was Lord Byron, or maybe Keats. When the young brother of a mercenary hitman became her main suspect, Rachel leant towards Keats. Didn’t the poet die here? Somewhere near, for sure. He probably coined the phrase on his deathbed. And then, the cherry on the top of her ice cream soda, she could smell grappa on the breath of the mercenary when she interviewed him—the only thing worse than a violent man: a violent man who drinks. The only thing worse than a violent man who drinks is a violent man who drinks and considers himself Rachel’s enemy.