“I see.” Luigi looked around, and they all kept their eyes on Zelph as he continued. “When we arrived, we heard a scream and came this way.” He gestured toward the receiving room. “We heard running footsteps.”
“Running footsteps?”
“Sì, detective. We gave chase.” He gestured toward the servant’s hallways.
“All three of you?”
Raphielli nodded a few times and then looked at Alphonso and stopped.
Zelph continued, “We chased the sound of running footsteps and saw Salvio.”
“Salvio was running through his own home?”
“Sì. He was headed toward the kitchen.”
“Was he chasing anyone?”
“We didn’t see that far ahead.”
“Uh huh. You could see him, but not who he was chasing?”
“Sì, Detective. And when we got to the kitchen we found a secret door, and it was open, so we ran through it.”
“You all ran through this secret door?”
“Raphielli and I did. But it was some sort of delivery bay and we fell into the water.”
“The two of you? You two fell into the water?” He looked at their different degrees of wet clothing and noted that only Zelph had waterlogged shoes. Alphonso had soaking wet hair, but his clothes and shoes were dry and hastily donned. One of his shoes was not tied; the laces were just shoved down into the shoe.
“I see,” Luigi said. “And while you two were splashing around the delivery bay, did you see Salvio in there?”
“No, we lost him. He slipped away somehow, maybe through the bay door in there. He probably escaped into the canal.”
“Through a bay door? It was open?”
“It’s partially broken, and the hole’s big enough for someone to fit through.”
“If you didn’t see him use that door, he could still be inside the palace.”
“You think he slipped away from us?”
“I think if anyone could give someone the slip, it’s Scortini.” Luigi didn’t have time for this, and he could tell he wasn’t getting the real story. “Okay then, since two of you have been submerged in canal water, you should have drops administered to your ears and eyes to guard against the raw sewage you’ve no doubt come into contact with.”
“Good idea,” Zelph agreed.
Raphielli turned to Rosa. “Would you get the medical drops from the bathroom?”
“Sì, and the antibiotics,” Rose muttered and hurried off.
Luigi sniffed deeply as he walked past Raphielli and her two friends. They didn’t smell like canal water. Very interesting.
“Zelph, show me where that secret door and bay are located…”
“Absolutely.” His tone was respectful and slick. He sounded like one of those shifty street toughs you could tell were lying, but sounded so cool that butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. This Zelph had bravado for days, and Luigi didn’t have time to parse through his bullshit.
Gio became incandescent with rage when he didn’t find Salvio in the water hub, and he really couldn’t believe he didn’t find the knife. How the fuck did that stronzo keep his grip on a stiletto while getting sucked through the siphon and shot through the air? His luck was infuriating! Gio found the lever that lifted the manhole cover, popped the plate open, and climbed up to the street.
He found himself in a sheltered space between some nondescript outbuildings on the Scortini compound. They were vaguely industrial-looking, probably heating, plumbing and electrical housing. To think there’s a temple under here that rivals ancient Greece. He put a foot on the cover, pushed it back into place, and started his above-ground search. He was used to comfort now, but he’d grown up hard and didn’t give a thought to the icy night air against his wet skin.
Gio followed the side of the building and saw a shape moving along the ground in the shadows. He hurried over, and there was Salvio dragging himself forward like a zombie. His arms and legs were moving, so he must’ve hit him in the gut. He went and stood over Salvio.
“Ciao, partner.”
Salvio curled onto his side and braced as if expecting a kick.
“You know, the police want to put you on trial, but a court couldn’t convict you on the chintzy evidence I’ve heard on the news, and I’m not gonna let Raphielli be ripped apart by some scumbag defense lawyer you’d hire. So, I’m gonna do what I should have done when you double-crossed me and tried to frame Primo.”
“Oh, protecting my wife, are you?” Salvio’s eyes glittered and he looked smug. “I’ll give you the stupid cow if you let me go.”
Gio shot him twice in the head and took off running. The shots echoed all over the place just like every other sound in Venice. That was one of the crazy things about this floating city. It was so stacked in and around itself with its bridges crossing over walkways and windows hovering above hidden airshafts, you could never tell who was around until you were right on top of them. The place was like a funhouse, and Gio was going to take full advantage of that.
He sprinted through the shadows of the courtyards, down the nearest steps, and followed the lower footpath to the deserted Il ponte Diamante. When Gio met up with Primo, they hurried under the crumbling green bridge together. Drea waved casually from behind the wheel and joked, “Ciao, Gio. Long time, no see. I’ve been listening to the police scanner. Busy night.”
Gio jumped in and started to pull off his wet clothes. Primo grabbed towels and blankets from a cabinet. Drea eased the boat out from under the moss-encrusted bridge and motored down the canal in the opposite direction from where the police boats were tied. She turned around when he was down to his boxers, and the look on her face was priceless.
“Gio, if you don’t mind my saying, you should wear less more often.”
He gave her a wink and started drying off. “And here I thought you were all business, Drea.”
She shook her blonde hair. “I am all business. I want you to be my personal trainer. How much time do you spend in the gym?”
“It’s staying a step ahead of the thugs that keeps me hard, not lifting weights. Take me back to the Aman. I’ve got to wash this canal water off me.”
“I’ll have you there in no time. Use the drops in the medical kit to keep your ears and eyes from getting infected. Take that antibiotic package there, too.” She pointed to a first aid kit bolted to the side of her boat.
Primo said, “I heard shots. Did you find Scortini?”
“He’s not a problem anymore. But judging from what we heard on the police scanners, he wasn’t alone in the hunt for Raphielli. He hired minions.”
Feet came pounding down the corridor and shouts, “Detective! Shots fired!”
Luigi clawed his way through spiderwebs on his way back to the pantry’s secret exit, he’d found that there actually was a hole big enough in a rotted bay door for Scortini to have gotten through. Luigi gratefully returned to the kitchen pantry, and ran after his officers back through the palazzo hallways and out the front door where another officer was yelling, “Detective! We found a body! It’s Scortini!” He pointed around the east side of the palace.
Luigi ran to where three officers were gathered. There lay Salvio Scortini, shot in the head. Well, he wasn’t in Croatia or Tunisia or Egypt. He’d stayed in Venice for one more rampage. But who shot him? Luigi reached down and touched Salvio’s hand. Still normal temperature, so it had just happened. He rolled him over and noticed Salvio had taken a bullet to his gut, and his other hand was clutching a stiletto.
“Apparently, he brought a knife to a gun fight,” Luigi said.
It had been two hours since Salvio went through the escape hatch and the Sicilian hunter had followed. Casimir and Americo’s clothes were dry, and they stood in their stocking feet poring over scrolls. Vincenzo had since returned with his cell phone, a pen, and some paper in a ziplock bag, and he’d been sloshing around the far edges of the temple taking photos and making notes of each symbol. Having completed a full circuit, he spoke up.
“Papa, I’ve got it all.”
Casimir straightened up and flexed his tired back and neck muscles. “Good. Now let us reflect on what we have discovered here.”
Americo took his elbow to lead him over to the throne so he could sit down, but Casimir refused. He lowered himself onto the smooth marble surface of the dais, motioning for Americo and Vincenzo to do likewise. “I want to sit on the floor with the two of you. What I feel right now is anything but superior.”
Americo fretted, “Sua Santità…” But Casimir held up his hand for silence.
Vincenzo made his way to them and climbed the steps before the altar, water sheeting off his bare legs and feet. He’d returned to the temple in nothing but underpants.
Casimir said, “I am humbled. Marcion of Sinope taught Christ’s Beatitudes and Paul’s realization that mankind suffers only to the extent that his consciousness of his divine nature is hidden.”
“Heresy!” Americo declared. “A total rejection of the divinity of the Catholic Church and our possession of the full revelation of God!”
“These are the teachings of Jesus the Christ,” Casimir said. Here in this banned place of worship, he could feel the love once his initial shock had worn off.
“Papa, what now?” Vincenzo asked.
“Call me Casimir.”
“I can’t do that Papa, not after I have failed in my role as your exponent.”
“You have not failed and you will not fail me, Vincenzo. But your father is gone, and so we must cleave together as one.”
“What do you mean failed?” Americo swiveled his head back and forth between them.
“Americo, I am annulling Vincenzo and Giselle’s union.”
“What? Why? Gabrieli told me she is carrying Vincenzo’s child!”
“No. You are mistaken.”
One emotion after another passed across Americo’s face before he arrived at a scandalized expression. “Oh, the tragedy you have suffered, Vincenzo.”
Casimir said, “Let us make use of that secret exit and go home to Juliette.”
“Let’s call your security, Sua Santità,” Americo stated. “Alberto must be in overdrive to find you.”
“I believe Alberto will be at Casa Verona when we arrive.”
Juliette was sitting in the library with Ivar and Leonardo when she heard voices approaching. She stood up as Casimir, Vincenzo, and the Vatican security came through the double doors. Casimir’s clothes were soaked and he was speaking to Alberto in a curt tone, his voice raised. “I will not discuss it. This is my home! This is my family. We have suffered a tragedy of global proportions, and there is no safety protocol for that. I reject your plan entirely! Now, do whatever you need to work within this reality. But I assure you, Alberto, the tail does not wag the dog.”
Alberto bowed his head and placed his palms together in front of his chest before leaving the room, taking the Swiss Guards with him.
Casimir rushed over to her. “Juliette!”
“My husband is gone, Casimir.” Juliette wanted to cry, but coming so fast on the heels of her pain over Vincenzo’s confession and losing Giselle, she felt strangely empty.
“We are not weaker for it. I still feel his presence.” He enfolded her in his arms, held her tight, and kissed her hair.
“That is what I feel too, that he is not yet gone,” she said into his shoulder. “The people loved him. Did you see the candles and flowers they are placing on our steps?”
“Sì, beautiful remembrances.” He gave her a squeeze before releasing her. “We need to keep our strength up. I will go to my room to get cleaned up, and then we must eat something.”
When he’d left the room, she asked the servants for privacy with Vincenzo and Leonardo. She looked at the two of them, her son in a shirt and pants that looked wrung out by hand, and Leonardo perfectly tailored but looking emotionally wrung out.
“I know what I am going to say may sound callous to you, but extraordinary times call for extraordinary actions. I have some plans and will not hear any objections from either of you.”
“Tell us what to do,” Leonardo said, and she felt he understood her perfectly.
Vincenzo shrugged and looked complacent. “Sì, Mama.”
“So much has happened since hearing of your father’s death. Salvio hired killers who tried to kill Giselle in France.”
“What?” Vincenzo leaped up and started for the door.
“Sit back down, she is fine. I have made arrangements for Giselle and Markus to be hidden at the Abbaye d’Orval until all of Salvio’s hit men are caught.”
Vincenzo weaved back to the sofa and sat down obediently, if uncertainly. Ivar got up and poured him a drink.
“I have sent Tiberius to escort Yvania on her flight to France. She should have landed at the Aiglemont airstrip by now. You two will continue to keep your sexual nature a secret until we know how to move forward within the Holy Church. Absolutely no one must know.”
“Mama, that isn’t fair to Giselle. People will think she’s been cuckolding me with Markus.” He accepted the drink with a nod, and Ivar sat down.
“Do not say anything.” She held up a hand. “We will figure out what to do before anything like that happens.”
“But...”
Her tone sharpened. “I will brook no insolence, Vincenzo.”
“Sorry.”
“You will produce an heir.”
“Wah…huh?”
“Gina has agreed to serve as the mother of the next Verona heir.”
“Who? The girl in the flower shop?”
“Sì.”
“The one you got the university scholarship for?”
“Sì. She will keep our secret, and she is eight days prior to ovulation right now.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means that beginning tomorrow, you will have intercourse with Gina for six days in a row to have the best chance of conception.”
“Brilliant, Juliette!” Leonardo looked relieved. “Thank God for this!”
“She agreed?” Vincenzo asked.
“Unlike you, she immediately saw the big picture of the bloodlines and the urgency we face to keep them from extinction.”
Leonardo squinted at her. “Bloodlines plural?”
“Sì, my bloodline as well.”
Vincenzo downed his drink and looked stunned, but then he blinked and offered her a weak smile. “Certamente, Mama.”
“It is all settled. As for the logistics, tomorrow I suggest a light meal at your apartment with some wine, but will leave it to you to make arrangements directly with Gina. I am giving you two directives.” She held up a finger. “You must make it as pleasant for her as possible.” She held up another finger. “And you must leave as much of yourself in her as you can, so do not waste anything with each other during this critical time.”
“Understood.”
Vincenzo’s legs felt like rubber as he stood up. “Mama, I’ll go get changed and we’ll join you for dinner shortly.”
Leonardo followed him through the palace to his suite, waited while he dismissed his valet, and closed the door before pulling him into a hug. “How are you?”
Vincenzo shied away and began to undress. “Oh, well, I just broke the Pope out of Vatican control, had a showdown in a secret temple below the Scortini palazzo along with the Vitali cousins…”
“The big, long-haired hunks?”
“Yeah them, along with two of the deadliest looking Sicilians I’ve ever seen.”
“Sicilians? Were they Mafia? Did they threaten you?”
“I believe they were Mafia, sì. But no, they were perfect gentlemen. They were hunting Salvio.”
“Oh! Then I hope they were Mafia! Did they find Salvio?”
“He found us.”
“Salvio did?”
“Sì, and one of the Sicilians shot him.”
“Fantastic! Is he dead?”
“Don’t know. He jumped down through some sort of water siphon, and probably got jet
tisoned out over the canal like a human torpedo, for all I know.”
“Oh, my God! You get all the action!”
“Speaking of action, how am I supposed to perform with Gina?” Vincenzo threw himself naked across the bed. “What if I can’t get it up?”
“We can talk to her. She’s really sweet. We’ll figure something out. And she’s very cute. Your mother could have chosen worse. Maybe she’ll let me be there, and I can help make sure you perform.”
“The world has gone sideways. My father was just murdered and, because of the confluence of circumstances, I don’t have time to mourn.”
“We’ll have all the time in the world to mourn. Right now is a time for action, while we’re all still alive.”
“Imagine us finally being fathers,” Vincenzo said as he headed for the shower.
EPILOGUE
Benedetta stood naked, looking at the windowpane. She’d been locked in this tiny room for days now, and she’d made up her mind. She wasn’t going to allow Salvio to rape her again. She looked out at the cold night sky, then closed her eyes and slammed her fist through the glass. Careful to keep her flimsy nightgown wrapped tightly around her hand, she poked at the shards of glass and then swept away the jagged edges until she was confident she could climb through without being cut to ribbons. The white material bloomed red in spots and she felt the sting of cuts. The sprinkling of glass on the floor was slicing her bare feet, but she could get bandages when she got to safety.
She thought about running back to her parents’ house and decided against it. They’d bring her right back here to Salvio until she’d had his child. They were religious zealots. She never had any real problem with that before, and even figured that losing her virginity to a powerful and rich guy might be kind of cool. But one look in his eyes—against his insane rules—and she knew she’d made the worst mistake of her life.
She’d stayed alive through each ordeal and tried to shut out his savage thrusting and the haunting chants that he kept murmuring while sticking his thing into her. She even kept silent when he shoved her onto the floor afterward because she sensed his real urge was to kill her. But that would negate his whole purpose of raping her to make an heir.
Storming Venice Page 34