He reached and placed a palm over her belly. Her hand rose to cover his. Their fingers entwined.

"Is it wrong to hope for a boy?" he asked.

She used her other hand to punch him halfheartedly in the leg. "Yes..."

Monk tightened his arms around her and teased. "But a boy...someone I can play catch with, shoot hoops with, go fishing..."

Kat wriggled, then sighed and leaned into him. "You can do all those things with a daughter, you sexist pig."

"Did you call me a sexy pig?"

"Sexist...oh, never mind."

He leaned down and kissed her lips. "I like sexy better."

She mumbled between their lips. Monk could not make out her words, but after a moment more, a contented silence followed. A knock on the door interrupted them. They broke their embrace and sat up. Kat stood and crossed to the door, running a hand down her suit. She glared back at Monk, as if it were all his fault.

Kat opened the door to find Painter standing outside.

"Director-"

Painter cut her off and pointed down the hall. "I was on my way down to satellite com. We've got trouble in Rome."

Monk gained his feet. "Gray?"

"Who else?" Painter set off down the hall.

8:21 A.M.

Rome, Italy

The Lamborghini drove straight at the trailing motorcycle. There was nothing Gray could do.

At the same moment the gunman fired his weapon, Kowalski blasted wildly with his pistol back at the car. The windshield spider-webbed. The car shimmied slightly-enough to throw off the aim of the gunman as he pulled the trigger.

From the grenade launcher, a spiraling trail of smoke rocketed out, passed over Kowalski's head, and shot down the street. It struck the corner of a building at the next intersection.

Smoke, fire, and bricks blasted outward.

Panicked pedestrians fled in all directions. Cars rammed one another in the intersection. In the lead, Gray reached the crossroads first. He fought through the mess, jerking and swerving through the chaos and smoke, seeking every crack to make his escape.

Seichan and Kowalski closed the distance.

Behind them, the Lamborghini, blocked by the traffic, swerved onto the sidewalk. It accelerated, heedless of the pedestrians in the way.

Once past the intersection, the road cleared. Gray opened the throttle and shot down the street. Seichan kept to his right flank.

"Gray!" Rachel yelled in his ear. She unwrapped one arm from around his waist to point ahead.

Down the street, a second black Lamborghini fishtailed around a corner and sped straight at them. The first car closed from behind.

Rachel pointed to the left. "Stairs!"

Gray spotted an arched pedestrian walkway between two buildings. He turned sharply, braking and skidding on both tires for a full yard, then righted the bike. With a twist of the throttle, he shot toward the stone stairway. Seichan followed, skirting wider but keeping pace.

Gray heard a string of curses flowing from Kowalski, punctuated by pop s from his pistol as he fired at the two sports cars.

Reaching the stairs, Gray downshifted and gunned the engine. Lifting up on his back tire, he hit the stairs and used momentum, balance, and a low gear to ratchet up the steps. Thankfully there was only one flight and the walkway flattened out. Still, the path was narrow and crooked.

Gray shot down the walkway. He didn't slow. He trusted the guttural growl of the two motorcycles to clear the path of any pedestrians. Still, he risked a glance back. He had no view of the street, but he was sure a gunman or two had been dropped off to give chase. The cars were probably circling around to meet them at the other end.

But where did this walkway end?

Gray had his answer as the path suddenly emptied into a wide plaza. A roadway circled its outer edge. As he shot into the open, Gray gaped at the massive ancient structure that filled the center of the space ahead of him. It climbed high into the sky.

The Coliseum.

But he had no time to sightsee.

"Got company!" Kowalski bellowed and pointed to the right.

Gray turned. The two Lamborghinis swung into the circling street.

"Gray!" Rachel said and pointed to the left.

A third Lamborghini, as sleek and black as the others, shot into view. Somebody had plenty of money to spare.

With no choice, Gray shot straight across the street, cutting through all lanes of traffic and out onto the pedestrian plaza that circled the Coliseum. It was a park of cement walkways, grassy lawns, and stretches of blacktop. Nimbleness was their only hope of escape. And speed.