Stealing Venice

by Anna E Bendewald

  She gasped dramatically, “Ach! Can you imagine what he is looking like?”

  Giselle got up early the next morning, received two suitcases packed with new personal items, and put the finishing touches on her housing design. They were ready for Gabrieli’s courier when he arrived to pick them up. With that accomplished, she sat down to enjoy breakfast with Markus, Yvania, and Ivar.

  “What will you do if your design is chosen for Verdu Mer?” Ivar asked.

  “Hmm?” She blinked. “I…what do you mean do?”

  “Have you not given any thought to working with the project team in Venice?”

  Accepting eggs from Yvania, Markus looked at Giselle. “He is right. No one knows your design or…” he searched for the word, “its nature but you.”

  Giselle pooched out her lower lip in dismissal. “Oh, well, I assumed the building experts wouldn’t want me around. They’d accept the design and take it from there.”

  Ivar buttered a muffin and shook his head. “I would not think so. Each house will need slight modifications. You know making a neighborhood is not like putting uniform toy blocks together.”

  Markus asked, “Giselle if you are needed in Venice for Verdu Mer, would you go?”

  “I’d love to, but I’m not an architect.”

  Ivar patted his lips with a napkin and shook his head. “You would work with the architect team, you are their designer.”

  “Perhaps not.” Giselle pointed thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Papa believes it’s God’s design that came through me.”

  “What?” Yvania had started clearing dishes. Over her shoulder she asked, “Who said this?”

  “She calls the Pope ‘Papa.’” Markus answered.

  “He’s like a father to me, Yvania. May I have another muffin?”

  “It is very nice to have the Pope as a father to you.”

  “I can’t get over how good these are.” Giselle accepted a muffin, pulled it apart and took a bite while examining it.

  Yvania laughed, “It is crushed apples inside, makes them…”

  “Moist,” Ivar helped her find the word.

  “They’re incredible.” Giselle looked between the men. “You know, to make the houses really special, they should have your windows.”

  Ivar nodded agreement, but Markus gave her a quizzical look. “An entire new neighborhood will require many, many, many windows.”

  “You can teach your craft to the Venetian artisans, can’t you?”

  The Czerneys and Markus shared a brief conversation in Ukrainian, and when they had reached an agreement Ivar looked pleased. “Da. We can teach them, and the windows will be beautiful.”

  Giselle thought of the possibilities and got excited. “Ooh! And skylights!”

  “Da, we can make those too.” Markus sounded proud.

  Ivar pointed a fork directly at his wife. “If we go to Venice, you will not make any mistakes. You will keep the secret for Giselle and Markus and the boys.”

  Yvania nodded vigorously. “Da! I will button my mouth now.” She motioned as if locking her lips and tossing an invisible key over her shoulder. “I know back in Chechnya when I was a girl, this homosexuality could be a death sentence. I know this.”

  Giselle looked to Markus and Ivar for reassurance and then nodded tentatively. “Okay, I’m open to all of us spending some time in Venice. Let’s see what the building experts say after their meeting this morning.”

  Giselle was happy to be able to spend time in the workshop with Markus, particularly since Vincenzo had asked her to stay out of sight. When her phone rang, she saw that it was Gabrieli.

  “Alo, Giselle?” His voice sounded upbeat.

  “Gabrieli. Did you get my drawings?” She felt a sudden pang of insecurity about them.

  “Sì! We’re excited about your home design. It’s very graceful. The consortium particularly admires your room layout and storage space.”

  “Oh, good!” She felt relief wash through her.

  “But what everyone was most impressed by were your notes on window placement. How each unit can be modified to capture every ray of natural solar energy for light and heat efficiency.”

  “Well, I made solar panels in science class years ago, and it really made an impact on me. I won a regional science prize for them.”

  “Your gifts never fail to impress me. But, let me get to the point, Giselle. I think you have a God-given talent for home design. What you’ve created is revolutionary. Everyone is so impressed, that our reference to it as “The Divine Concept” is no longer uttered as a joke.”

  “Grazie, grazie.” She grinned and Markus came over raising his hand. She high-fived him as she listened to her father-in-law.

  “It’s dual natured, both very old-fashioned and very fresh and modern. The team feels that with these homes, the neighborhood will become a worldwide destination for architects and city planners wanting to see these houses firsthand. The consortium’s vote on housing design is scheduled for two days from now. Our senior planner is certain your design will win, and he’d like to meet with you in preparation for the project. Will you come here to meet with us?”

  “Sure, and the windows I have in mind are very special. They look modern, but it’s actually a very old process. Markus and his teacher, Ivar, can bring some samples of their work and teach it to your builders. I’ll bring Markus, Ivar, and his wife, Yvania. We can be there tomorrow.”

  Gabrieli sounded relieved. “Ottimo! Send Vincenzo your schedule. We’ll have rooms ready for our guests. We’ll all be so glad to have you home safe.”

  “Okay, a presto. Ciao.”

  Giselle hung up and called Vincenzo, who insisted on acting as her assistant to schedule her meetings and travel. Then she and Markus went to the kitchen to share the news.

  Yvania made happy little gestures with her hands. “Hokay, we go to Venice!” and she bounced in place on the wooden bench. “Do we stay in the palazzo?”

  “My in-laws insist. Here in Paris, Vincenzo and I have our own home. But when we’re in Venice, it’s family time, so we live in the palazzo.”

  “Does Leonardo have a room in the palazzo, too?”

  “No, V and Leo have an apartment, but everyone thinks it is just Leonardo’s. Leo’s office is there, too, so they do a lot of long accounting sessions as far as everyone knows.”

  Yvania raised her eyebrows but then appeared embarrassed. “Sorry, this is none of my business, I know.”

  “We will keep our curiosity to ourselves,” Ivar said, and then asked Markus, “Will you help get our suitcases out of the storage room?”

  “Da.”

  Salvio sat in his prison and tried to piece together the events of the past several days. He barely functioned between bouts of excruciating pain, and while he wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, he was trying to settle into a routine of eating and drinking to regain his strength. If his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, he’d been abducted from his home office. He’d heard that the Mafia liked to use veleno to subdue victims, and he could only surmise that Petrosino had found a way into his office and poisoned him. How had Petrosino figured out he’d double-crossed him? Surely he had no contacts in the Vatican. Perhaps he had people inside the Venice police department?

  Salvio couldn’t imagine a punishment more cruel than what he was experiencing. The malignant after-effects of the veleno were taking forever to wear off. He loathed the way filth clung to human bodies, so having to endure his personal temple in this disgusting state was a constant source of anger and shame. God was testing his resourcefulness, but Salvio would not disappoint Him.

  A dimwitted Mafia soldier brought his food twice a day while ignoring him completely. He opened the iron door with a key that made a screeching sound in the lock, and then ordered Salvio to stand against the far wall. After Salvio complied, he’d come down the stairs, set a tray of food and a large plastic bottle of water on the floor. Then he’d pick up the previous tray and bottle and leave. He ignored Salvio�
��s sign of blessing from across the room, and Salvio made a show of appearing crippled to lure this Sicilian grunt into a false sense of physical superiority. The idiot failed to notice that each time he entered, he was forced to take a half step farther into the room because Salvio kept placing the tray slightly farther from the door. Sicilians were all so smug, and that sin of conceit was precisely the weapon he would use against the soldier. It wouldn’t take long to outsmart this idiot and be free again.

  The food was disgusting—the young grunt must be getting it from a vending machine. But Salvio ate every last crumb to keep his temple strong, and while he drank almost all of the bottled water, he’d use a small amount each day to wash his body and try to launder his soiled suit. The dampness and poor nutrition were wreaking havoc on his gout, and his ankles were obscenely swollen. Around the tops of his feet, the skin was stretched tight like glossy purple stockings. When he was alone, he tried to renew his regimen of deep knee bends, and exercised as best he could to stay nimble. He knew that regaining his catlike reflexes was his ticket to freedom. But he made sure to keep his pant legs rolled up, so the servant could see this ugly infirmity and misjudge him as frail.

  Salvio pretended to be unaware of his surroundings, and never asked questions, except once when he tried to impress the soldier with his pedigree. He’d heard the key screech in the lock, stopped exercising, and fell to his knees in prayer. The soldier set the food and water down, and stepped into the room to claim the previous tray. From his vantage point on the floor, Salvio saw the servant’s ankle holster and gun. Salvio addressed him in a weak voice, “I’m grateful for your kindness, signore. I am Salvio Scortini, and I’m going to ask the Pope to remember you in his blessings.”

  “Sure, you do that,” the servant called over his shoulder.

  “Sì, my friend. We can call him now, do you have a phone?”

  The door slammed and the lock screeched in reply. Unperturbed, Salvio got up and went back to his deep knee bends. After a rigorous exercise session, he ate the soggy panino and, after brushing as much salt as he could off the potato crisps, he ate those too. Perhaps Petrosino’s plan is to torture me with this velano, and then kill me via sodium poisoning? Then he went back to work prying the grate out of the floor with the edge of his metal tray.

  CHAPTER

  16

  The private jet carrying Giselle, Markus, and the Czerneys landed at Venice’s Marco Polo Airport and taxied to the Verona’s private hanger where Vincenzo and Petro were waiting. Looking out the plane window, Yvania asked, “That is Leonardo who is there with Vincenzo?”

  Giselle shook her head. “No, that’s Petro, Vincenzo’s bodyguard.”

  Ivar reached over the supple leather armrest and put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Best you do not talk much.”

  “Da. I know nothing. What can I say but I do not for knowing. Right?” Her grammar suffered when she was excited. She pantomimed buttoning her lip again, and turned to Giselle. “Not for worrying. As a girl I was in the war in my homeland of Chechnya. I know how to protect the secret.”

  Giselle raised her eyebrows, and felt oddly reassured by her little friend. “I’ll introduce you to everyone, don’t worry.”

  As she stepped off the plane, Vincenzo rushed over to hug her. He murmured in her ear, “This is awkward for me. I normally scoop you up.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.

  “Oh, V! I’ve missed the hell out of you!”

  “Out of respect for Markus, I’ll control my exuberance.” He planted a chaste kiss on her cheek before turning to clap Markus on the arms. “We’re glad to have you as our guests.”

  “It is a great opportunity for her.” Markus stepped in closer. “Any word of Salvio?”

  “Nothing. No one has seen or heard anything of him since he contacted the police and the Pope.”

  Giselle brought Ivar and Yvania forward. “Vincenzo, this is Ivar Czerney, who is a great window artist.”

  Vincenzo smiled in greeting, “I’m pleased to meet you, Ivar.” He looked down at the walker. “I hope the travel wasn’t too much. How can I be of assistance?”

  Ivar shook Vincenzo’s hand and then lifted the walker easily with his other hand. “Ah, do not let this fool you. A habit from an old operation. Now it is mostly for show,” he kidded. He put the walker back down, but didn’t lean on it.

  “And this is Yvania.” Giselle sensed Yvania’s intense interest in Vincenzo—and how hard she was trying to hide her curiosity—so Giselle held her breath at what might come out of her mouth.

  “Ciao, Count Verona.” The little babushka stepped forward. “So nice you are flying us, and letting us help for Giselle’s working.”

  “We’re happy to have you, Yvania. Now, I’ll take you to our home.”

  “Da!” Her face lit up. “I will begin the knocking out of your mother!” She patted her hands together lightly and nudged Giselle.

  When Vincenzo glanced at Giselle for clarification, she kissed her fingertips. “Wait till Juliette tastes Yvania’s cooking, it really will knock her out.”

  “Well then, Yvania,” Vincenzo smiled down at her, “you won’t find a more grateful household than ours.”

  Drawing herself up to her full five feet four inches, including the three inches of old-world clogs, she proudly sashayed toward Petro, who escorted them to the family’s boat. A porter followed with their luggage.

  Fall was settling in, and it was decidedly chilly as the group cruised to the majestic Verona palazzo. Giselle zipped her coat and raised her collar as the wind came across the water. Pulling up to the Verona’s water garage, they saw Juliette, who was flanked by her staff at the door. Her mother-in-law was wrapped in a heavy shawl and waved excitedly when she saw them. As they disembarked and came up from the private pier, Juliette swept down the marble palace steps, heading straight for Giselle.

  “I am so relieved to have you home.” She hugged Giselle tightly. “Now I can sleep soundly, and you can realize your sacred vision at Verdu Mer.”

  Juliette turned to the rest of the group. “Ah, Markus, grazie. You have kept our girl safe, and now you bring us new friends.” Giselle introduced the Czerneys and they entered the palazzo where Juliette addressed them. “Come now, we will get you settled in your rooms. You would like some time to rest after your trip, I would guess.”

  “I will help with the cooking.” Yvania walked over and took Juliette’s hand. “No need for bedroom now, please take me to your kitchen.”

  Juliette’s face lit up. “As you wish. If we do not have the ingredients you desire, you and I can go shopping together. Have you ever been to the open air market here in Venezia?”

  As they disappeared toward the kitchen, Vincenzo trailed behind with Giselle and the others.

  “Gigi, you have a meeting with Verdu Mer’s head of building in the morning, but today I’ll take you over to the site. The demolition team has a temporary construction office where you can see the project plans. Markus, we can talk about your and Ivar’s glass making on the way.”

  “If you can use the old-world Crimean tradition of window craft, we can teach it,” Ivar said.

  “We have brought some glass samples, and can show you photos of our work on the Internet,” Markus added. “Your Venetian team may want to learn the artistry that he taught my father. It will give this new neighborhood a look that is both old and new.”

  “The consortium really liked the idea of special windows.”

  Giselle looked around. “Where are your father and Papa?”

  “In Rome, but they’ll be back for dinner. Gentlemen, let me show you where your rooms are, and then we can head to Verdu Mer.”

  “Is it far from here?” Ivar asked.

  “No, it’s an easy walk, but we’ll take the boat.”

  Ivar nodded. “That will be good.”

  “Let me go change clothes and put on some different shoes.” Giselle clicked off down the hall in her pumps.

  When they stepped
ashore at the project site, Vincenzo gave them a brief tour of the vacant slum and an overview of the reconstruction plan.

  Markus commented, “There are not as many workers here as I expected.”

  “No, not above ground there aren’t. At the moment the work is mostly underwater at the bottom of the canals.” Vincenzo pointed to scuba tanks here and there on the broken paving stones as they walked past. “You’ll see members of the sub-aquatic surveying team pop up and swap their tanks for fresh ones before heading back down to continue working. They want to get most of their work done before winter arrives.”

  When they came to the door of an old apartment, Vincenzo stepped around orange caution cones and moved a sawhorse out of the way. He selected hard hats for each of them from a shelf next to the door, Vincenzo distributed the hats and then led the way into the makeshift construction office. He cautioned them, “You can’t be too careful in here.” He gestured to the ceilings that were held in place by scaffolding and sagging braces. “The whole place is crumbling.”

  He flipped a switch on a yellow electric cord suspended just inside the door, and an overhead light came on, illuminating the bare room. “In addition to serving as our little office, this is where most of the sub-aquatic surveyors enter the canal to work.” He pointed to a big hole broken out of the cement floor. The group skirted the hole and walked over to a makeshift surveyor’s desk, where blueprints for the project were tacked onto the wooden surface and surrounding walls. Together they reviewed the sketches and visual overviews to see the improvements planned from the canals below their feet, to the new houses, school, and cathedral to come. The dusty space was cold, and the humidity made the room feel frigid. Both Vincenzo and Markus reached out protectively every time Giselle took a step. When they’d seen all the plans, they stepped back outside, and Vincenzo locked the office door and pocketed the key.

  “Now, let’s go home and relax.”

  Casimir and Gabrieli had just concluded their meeting with the Apostolic Camera, Vatican financial officers, and the president of the Banca d’Italia to review invoices for Verdu Mer. Funding for the resident relocation and first phase of underwater construction was going smoothly, and Casimir was pleased with their progress. The two friends left the Hall of Ligorio deep inside Vatican City, and headed for the helipad where the helicopter was waiting to shuttle them back to Venice for a relaxing evening.