With her help and the support of the window behind him, Ed struggled to his feet. He fought a rising nausea.
"I'm ok, Mrs. Pozzi, thank you," he lied, still confused about the whole situation.
"It's Miss," she said shyly, "Enrico doesn't have a father."
"But mama, I do have a father, how could you forget? The good Lord in heaven is my father who protects me, and he's sent this man as an angel to rescue me."
"Of course you are right, carissimo. Our angel looks like he should get some rest though, don't you think so?" – and to Ed: "I used to work as a nurse before Enrico was born. I can see that you're not well. We will help you home."
Ed doubted that she could help him, but he was so dizzy that he had no choice but to accept.
It turned out that the woman knew what she was doing. She supported his left shoulder with much more strength than he had expected.
Although they didn't have far to go it was getting dark by the time they reached Ed's home.
Miss Pozzi helped Ed lay down onto his bed, fully dressed as he wished.
Not wanting to intrude, she left quietly with her son.
Although Ed was grateful for her help, he felt relieved that he was finally on his own again.
He tried to relax, but that wasn't easy. He had felt totally helpless that afternoon – and he had probably made a fool of himself. He still didn't understand the whole thing. Did the man and his daughter really fight about her child? That was more than odd. Now, as it seemed to be a family matter he had to stay out of it.
Half an hour later he was still laying there, trying to force himself to get up to get a glass of water - when the telephone rang. Fortunately, the phone stood on his nightstand, because working for Chief Ironside meant that he had to be ready to be called at all times. Ed picked it up and immediately recognized Miss Pozzi's voice. She sounded upset.
"Sir, I'm very sorry to disturb you again. My father was waiting for us at our home, and he's managed to take Enrico with him. I need help and have no one to turn to. May I come to your place? You were friendly towards us once, so I was hoping..." her voice trailed away.
"Don't you think that this is a police matter now? That's abduction we're talking about."
"You see, it's still in the family. It's quite complicated. Let me explain it to you. Please."
Sighing inwardly, Ed said: "Ok, come here, although I don't see how I could be of any help."
When the doorbell rang, he laboriously stood up. He opened the door and let Miss Pozzi in.
"I'm afraid there's no coffee," he said as a way to start the conversation.
"Sir, my child has been abducted. The last thing I care about now is coffee."
Only now did Ed notice the crestfallen look in her eyes, and he felt ashamed. But he still didn't really understand.
"Please, sit down and explain. You said yourself that this isn't a police matter. Enrico is with his grandfather – so why are you so worried?"
"You see, as a young man, my father was a mathematician in Italy. He taught mathematics in high school. It was during the 1930s and, since he didn't agree with Mussolini and his politics, he emigrated to the U.S.A.
The "American dream" didn't work out for him though. Because his English skills weren't good enough he never found his way back into teaching. He had to work in construction, although he hated it. All this led him to be bitter and probably also a little… err… a little strange. I am his only child, while Italians like big families. He expected me to walk in his footsteps, but I wasn't gifted for mathematics. I'm more the practical type like my mother. I was a big disappointment to my father.
Nevertheless he considered me as being too good for any American man, and according to his wishes I hardly ever joined other young people. Until I met Marco. He was very nice to me. We started dating and I got pregnant. Before I could tell him the good news, he broke off our engagement because he wanted to go abroad. I didn't want to force him into marriage, so I just let him go. We Italians are very proud, you know.
But we're also strict Catholics. My father was absolutely furious when he found out about the baby. He threw me out of his house. My mother and I often met secretly though, and she gave me some money after the baby was born, so I could stay home with Enrico as long as he needed me. Now I also work part-time as a house keeper, so we manage.
Last week my mother died. My father found out about the money and at the funeral he threatened to kill Enrico. Because he had paid for his upbringing he had the right to do so, he said. He probably doesn't really mean that, but I can't be sure, can I? He seems to be really mentally sick now."
That was the whole sad story.
Ed was at a loss for words.
Then Miss Pozzi showed him a letter her father had left at her place.
It was written in English. Mr. Pozzi had finally learned the language well enough:
"Do what I want or your bastard will feel the consequences. No police or I will kill him."
At the bottom of the letter, there were just numbers:
991/877/941/907/953 967/887/887/977 997/907/977
983/919/887/859/947/971/863 967/887/877 859/947/971
983/947/941/919/977. 859/887/911/887/877/877/887/839 863/941/829
887'983/919/887/983/929 941/907 967/877/887/907/859 887/967
827/887/857/877 947/887/857/863/971.
"You see, my father still wants to prove that he's more intelligent than most other people. It's like an obsession. Now he wants me to decipher his letter, but I can't crack the code. It's got to have something to do with mathematics."
"My boss, Chief Ironside, would probably be a big help," Ed said.
How should he explain to somebody who didn't know the Chief that he wasn't just a police officer, but ... Ironside?
She didn't want any police involved, even after he'd told her that he was a police officer too.
"My father has no way of knowing that you are a policeman," she replied.
Since Ed wasn't too bad with codes and mathematics himself, he started to mull over the code.
Author's note: Who wants to help Ed solve the enigma? It's feasible!