Last night, while walking back from his girlfriend's flat in Trastevere, Evan found Molotov. Molotov, as we had already surmised, was badly injured by the Saudis before he managed to kill them. According to my counterpart here in Rome who, along with the Trastevere Polizzia, interviewed Evan this morning at the crime scene, Molotov died in Evan's arms. He told him not to trust someone named Arnout and to look for al-Qaeda's diamonds in a cross hidden in a monastery in Ayios Niklaus, Crete. My counterpart is convinced that Evan was at the wrong place at the wrong time. He's also convinced that he knew nothing of Molotov prior to last night and that he is now, like myself, in grave danger.
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