Storming Venice

by Anna E Bendewald

  “You know, Salvio,” Gio said, “I thought you’d recognize extreme ruthlessness, but you’re blind. Even delusional people have some self-preservation, but not you. How is it that you can’t see what you’re up against?”

  Raphielli felt her pager vibrate and looked down at the device in her hand. “The police are here!”

  Salvio yelled, “Silence, whore!” Then he took a deep breath, put his arms tight to his sides, did a little sideways hop, and was sucked into the floor just as she heard the roar of a gun.

  CHAPTER

  22

  The split second Gio saw the look of cunning on Salvio’s face, he squeezed the trigger. He knew not to underestimate Scortini, but he was as stunned as the rest of the group when Salvio was sucked straight downward like a twig into a flood drain. The sound of the gunshot rang around the temple chamber again and again, making everyone clamp their hands over their ears.

  Gio shoved his gun into its holster and he, Primo, the Pope, and the longhaired twin who was fully clothed, dove into the water and swam straight for the spot where Salvio had disappeared. What they found was a geyser of faint pink bubbles coming up from the tiled floor like a manhole-sized hot tub jet. He’d hit Salvio.

  There was a hole in the floor, obscured by a mosaic of a ship. Gio grabbed the edges of the tiles and explored it. The longhaired man reached his hand down into the gush of water, forcing his arm in against the pressure, then his head and chest disappeared into the exploding bubbles. He had to be as strong as an ox to advance himself against the force of the water using only one arm as leverage.

  Then Gio noticed the force was lessening. The Pope hauled the man away and was able to stab down into the jet with the sword he’d taken from the altar. If Salvio was still within reach, he’d have been skewered. Out of air, all four of them came to the surface. Gio spoke first. “I don’t know what the rest of you are planning to do, but I’m going after him. I have one objective, and that’s hunting Scortini down.”

  Raphielli said, “I didn’t think guns could get wet.”

  Gio let his eyes take her in. She was now a goddess with gravity-defying curves, sheer material that showed the fine detail of her lace lingerie beneath, and kohl smudges from her blurred eye makeup that made her look like a rock ‘n’ roll fantasy girl. He wanted her more at this instant than he’d ever wanted any woman in his life. He winked at her and said, “I have no use for a gun that can’t go for a swim.”

  “You are Sicilian?” The Pope was standing next to him.

  “Sì.”

  “Tell me, my Sicilian friend, who are you?”

  “With all due respect Sua Santità, I don’t think you want to know my name. I’m just a friend who shares a common enemy.” The Pope seemed to agree and waded back toward the altar.

  Primo, who stood waist high in the water, was pointing. “The bubbles have stopped. The water’s gone still.”

  Gio shuffled his bare feet cautiously toward the hole and could see what looked like a clear column of water about ninety centimeters high forming over a boat symbol. “It looks like a tentacle of water.”

  The big guy in the underwear said, “He jumped into it like it was a water slide.”

  “You all should get out of this temple before the police come looking for you.” Gio looked at Primo. “I’m going after him. Hopefully, the bullet hit something vital and he’s dying wherever he came out. Avoid the other wing where the police’ll be occupied with the valet.” He looked over at Raphielli, “Can you show my son a way out?”

  One of the twins said, “We’ll show you a secret passage out through the kitchen. It’s in this wing.”

  Gio nodded to Primo. “Get my shoes and phone back at the stairs and go out where they show you. Call for Drea to come get us. I’ll meet you under Il ponte Diamante.” Looking at the water column, he said, “Here goes nothing.” Gio took a deep breath and jumped straight onto the column over the boat symbol. He felt a powerful suction take hold of his feet, then gulp him down and swallow him whole as the temple disappeared.

  The column of water that engulfed him was calm; it moved like an elevator, and he felt minimal turbulence. Tiles blurred past him as he raced through a white chute, and the only sensation he felt was a pressure in his ears. The passage canted to an angle before it turned upward, and then he was being propelled feet first as if he was on a roller coaster. It was a short ride. Before his lungs started to protest, he’d been carried to the end of the chute and spat out and into a private water exchange the size of a small room.

  He swam a couple of strokes to the side, reached for the rungs on the wall, and looked around to get his bearings. It had been quite a ride. He’d been airborne for a moment before splashing down into what was probably a mixture of recent rainwater, gray water, overflow from canal wakes, and the water that filled the temple. The air temperature was glacial.

  Gio climbed up to examine the chute. He’d been carried with an enormous amount of pressure, yet there was nothing but a trickle of fresh water flowing from the pipe now, nowhere near the flow that had conveyed him. It was like the contraption was designed to take a big gulp of water and spit it out, then reverse flow so as not to drain the pool.

  I’ll be damned! Whoever built that temple built an escape route that works like a really precise siphon. They don’t build cool shit like that nowadays. He hung onto a rung and swung around, inspecting other water chutes to see if Salvio had crawled into one. Nada. Then he looked straight up into hazy rays from a streetlight coming through a manhole cover. Now if I were a deranged killer who’d been shot, where would I go from here?

  Giselle knew that extreme stress was bad for the baby, so she took deep, cleansing breaths. Think gratitude: I’m grateful I’m alive, I’m grateful Markus is alive, I’m grateful…

  Fauve interrupted her thoughts as she took Giselle’s hand and led her out the back door of the little hotel, under a grape arbor, and down a set of stone steps into the dark cellar. Fauve turned on a light to reveal neat shelves stocked with jars of all sizes holding the bounty of her summer and fall canning efforts. Henri opened the fastener on a metal door to the side, and together they entered the room with Markus bringing up the rear. Huddled inside the frigid room with no windows, surrounded by bags of rabbit food, chicken feed, and goat pellets, they stared down at the would-be hit man hogtied on the floor. He was covered up with old blankets.

  Markus asked, “Why did you bring him down here?”

  Henri replied, “We have a hotel and a restaurant to run. Our guests use the bathroom by the office, and we couldn’t have them stepping over a body, so we put him down here.”

  “You gave him the tranquilizer that you used on your goat?” Giselle asked. “But your billy has got to be a hundred kilos. Are you sure you didn’t kill this guy?”

  “Oui, somewhere in that range.” Fauve seemed confident with her use of the drug. “He’s fine.”

  Crouching down, Markus lifted the man’s eyelids and peered closely. Then he stood up and turned to Fauve. “Da, his pupils react to light and he is breathing normally. I am impressed how you put this all together.”

  Giselle gave Fauve’s slim shoulders a squeeze. “You may really be psychic.”

  Fauve put a hand on her hip in a nonchalant way, as if having an incapacitated man on her cellar floor was a normal occurrence. “Boh, ouais! How have you doubted me? I prophesized who’d win the senior talent contest.”

  Markus looked at Henri, who was tapping away at the man’s phone. “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t look up. “I don’t want it to lock, and he’s got plenty of battery, so I’ve been sending all his contacts, emails, and messages to myself.”

  “Could that be dangerous? These are hired killers, and you now have a lot of sent items from his phone to your personal number.”

  “I don’t see how they could gain access to my phone and, well, too late now. I just wanted to keep it in use so it wouldn’t lock.”

  “Henri,�
� Giselle said, “I’ll buy you a new phone. Send yours to Detective Luigi Lampani at the Venice police headquarters right away. He’s the one working the case against Salvio.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Use my courier account.”

  “Will do.”

  Giselle stopped and looked up at the ceiling to stop the sudden emotion that threatened to choke her. “I wish someone could have saved Gabrieli like you saved me.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes as if she could push back the tears that threatened. If she started crying for Gabrieli, she might lose it completely, and the last thing they needed was for her to go to pieces. “I’ve got to talk to Vincenzo.”

  “You left him messages.” Markus took her in his arms. “Give him time to call you back.”

  After a few moments absorbing his calm, Giselle moved out of his embrace. “Okay, I’ll call Juliette. It’s freezing down here. Let’s go back inside.” She made her way out of the cellar and back to the hotel’s office ahead of the others.

  “Giselle?” Her mother-in-law answered the phone sounding bereft.

  “Sì, Juliette. I just heard the news.” The tears came and she had to choke them back as her shoulders heaved.

  “Salvio killed him. I know it.” Juliette sniffed. The anguish sounded raw.

  “I would have called sooner, but Salvio had men here…two of them got to the château. A third is still in Aiglemont, but Fauve and Henri have him locked in their cellar.” She sobbed, and Markus took the phone from her.

  “Juliette, I am so sorry…what?” He listened for a bit and then said, “I agree. I think he is trying to kill the whole Verona family.” As he listened, Giselle could hear Juliette’s raised voice through the phone. Fauve hugged her tight and rocked her as she cried.

  Markus said, “Tell Yvania I heard that, and I agree. Salvio must think Giselle is carrying Vincenzo’s child. I will do everything I can to keep her safe. Right now, I do not know where to take her.” He listened and seemed surprised. “That sounds like a good plan, Juliette. Da, I will put her back on the phone.”

  Giselle took the phone. “I’m sorry, Juliette. I’ve got myself under control now.”

  “Oh, my dear Gigi, do not apologize for mourning Gabrieli,” she said. Her regal voice sounded more normal than Giselle could imagine herself being if someone had just killed Markus. “I am sending Yvania to help you.”

  “But you need looking after,” Giselle objected.

  “I have Ivar, but I must shake myself by my own shoulders and take care of Vincenzo and Casimir. Our jet will bring Yvania to the Aiglemont airstrip, and the three of you will go to Abbaye d’Orval and hide until it is safe. I will call them now.”

  “You mean, stay with the Benedictine monks?”

  “Sì, but they are Trappist Cistercian monks, not Benedictine.”

  “The monks who make your favorite preserves and cheeses?” Giselle sniffled.

  “Sì. They have kept many people safe during both world wars.”

  “I remember when you took me to visit them, and my school took us on day trips to the cheese barns every year when I was growing up.”

  “They are experts at saving people.”

  “My grandfather used to tell me stories about the Battle of the Bulge in World War Two and those monks.”

  “They were secret heroes of The Battle of the Ardennes in World War One.” Juliette was gaining some conviction. “Do you have your grandfather’s truck?”

  “Oui, we drove The Tank here.”

  “Bene, molto bene. I will tell Yvania the plan, and then I will call the Abbot to arrange everything. After you meet Yvania at the airstrip, drive directly to the Abbaye, you can drive there in forty-five minutes…or the way you drive, thirty minutes.”

  “Okay, that’s what we’ll do. I know the way. Give our love to Vincenzo and Papa.”

  “I will.”

  “What about Ivar?”

  “He will be fine here with me and our security, and someone has to run Verdu Mer.”

  “Ivar can handle Verdu Mer?”

  “Oh, certainly. Recently he has been working with the consortium to keep things on schedule while Gabrieli was putting out fires in Rome.”

  Giselle asked, “Juliette, when will Gabrieli’s funeral be held?”

  “I will wait to consult with Casimir. It has to follow the Vatican’s Verona protocol—it is always a state funeral. We will get word to you.”

  “Okay, I love you.”

  “Ti amo, and so did Gabrieli.”

  “I know. He called me this morning.”

  “I am so glad.” Juliette’s voice quavered.

  Giselle ended the call and took the tissue and glass of water Fauve offered her. “Juliette has the most wonderful plan.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Henri’s eyes looked toward the back door. “We should call the police now and hand Bernardo and his murder kit over to them.”

  Fauve went to the desk phone. “Oui, Gendarme Evan is always complaining that he keeps up his anti-terrorist training, and only gets to respond to noise complaints. He’ll be so excited to have a murder plot to handle.”

  Markus asked, “You have a policeman in town named Policeman Evan?”

  “Oui. When we were kids, he always pretended he was a cop, and wanted to be called gendarme, so the nickname stuck.”

  “You can tell Gendarme Evan that Terrance and Luc are probably already out at my property with Selma,” Giselle said.

  “Will do.” Fauve picked up her phone.

  Henri looked at Bernardo’s phone in his hand, he’d forgotten to keep it use and it was now locked. He tossed it into the briefcase and went to his desk to prepare a courier pouch to send his to that detective in Venice.

  Raphielli looked around the temple feeling a maddening mixture of frustration, anger, and disappointment.

  Vincenzo said, “Sua Santità, you can’t be found here.”

  “That is not a concern of mine at the moment, and I do not believe the police will find us.”

  “The Sicilian is hunting Salvio. What more is there to do?” Vincenzo asked.

  Primo spoke up. “We’ll get him. Holy Father, I agree, you shouldn’t be mixed up in this. I’m going to use the secret exit. Why don’t you, the cardinal, and the count, all come with me? I’ll sneak you out.”

  “I need to study this temple. It is critical that you all understand this temple must remain a secret.”

  “Certamente, Sua Santità, not a word from us,” Alphonso said. “Raphielli, tell your staff not to mention that the Holy See and father Negrali were here.”

  “They won’t say a word if I don’t. They take their cues from me.”

  The Pope turned to Vincenzo. “You go with the young Sicilian and learn about that secret exit, then come back here.” He turned to the cardinal. “Americo, you and I must begin our work at once. Let us start with those symbols.”

  Alphonso said, “The rest of us have got to go face the music with the police.” With that, Primo, Vincenzo, and Zelph were beneath the water swimming under the bridge. Raphielli filled her lungs with air and swam after them, with Alphonso gliding just behind her.

  Lampani saw the ambulance docking and took the steps to Raphielli’s door two at a time, spun the bell key and hollered, “Police!” He’d run from the shelter the second he’d heard the call for the ambulance over the police frequency. When the butler opened the door, Lampani asked him, “Dante, where is Signora Scortini?”

  “She is here. But, we need the ambulance! Please come this way, it is Guiseppe!” Luigi was surprised how fast the old butler could move, and he jogged behind him to Salvio’s office where the valet lay with some sort of big velvet tourniquet around his midsection—it looked like a curtain.

  Luigi said, “Dante, get back to the front door. The medics will dock outside any minute now.” The butler disappeared back the way he’d come.

  Luigi knelt down. “Guiseppe, help is coming. Did Salvio do this to you?”

  “Sì. I
came in and he…he…stabbed me so fast.”

  “We’ll get him. Don’t you worry.”

  “He is a monster.” It was a tiny whisper.

  “I know.”

  The medical team hurried in with Raphielli and two big longhaired men right behind them. Raphielli’s clothes were soaked, while only one of the men’s clothes were in the same state. The other one, the man he often saw accompanying Raphielli to and from the shelter, just had wet hair, and his shirt was misbuttoned. The medics lifted Guiseppe onto a stretcher, took a look under the wrapping, and quickly applied tape to the punctures before they carried him from the room.

  Raphielli tried to get to Guiseppe, but Alphonso held her back.

  “Guiseppe! Please be okay! They’ll take good care of you!”

  “You are okay, signora…bene…bene,” came a weak reply.

  Luigi ushered them into the hallway. “This is a crime scene. Let’s all move to another room.”

  The trio followed him into a receiving room where Dante and Rosa joined them.

  Luigi asked the big money question. “Dante, where’s Salvio?”

  He stared. “I did not see Senior Scortini.”

  Raphielli was shivering inside a sweater that was oddly dry over her sopping outfit. She asked, “Detective, what’s going on?”

  “Salvio’s returned to his pattern of rapid-fire attacks just like last time. He went after the count, then your shelter, then here for his valet.”

  “My shelter?” she cried, and the big man with the dry clothes took hold of her.

  Luigi put his hand up for quiet. “The women are safe, they…er…defended themselves.”

  She looked like she was having trouble processing this information, but he didn’t have time to give her a run down. He had a murderer on the rampage.

  “Excuse me, detective,” the longhaired man in the soaking clothes spoke up.

  “Sì?”

  “I’m Zelph Vitali. I’m the security consultant for the palazzo. I got a call from Raphielli and my cousin…this is my cousin Alphonso.” He indicated the lookalike in the dry clothes. “He was with me and came, too.”