by Sharon Timm
The man stepped away from Sam. His eyes brimmed with tears. He reached out his hand and squeezed hers. "If there is ever anything I can do...." his words trailed off.
Sam thought about what he had said as the man walked away. She looked at Luca who was smiling at her proudly. "If there ever was something he could do for me," Sam said wryly, "I probably wouldn't be able to find him." She realized that the agent had not been introduced to the group by name. "He doesn't even have a name."
Luca nodded. "You don't know who he is, but everyone in the room knows who you are. They'll find you."
Luca led Sam down the corridor. Sam stopped at the door to the holding cell where she had been taken on the day they met. "Taking me back to my cell?" she asked playfully.
Luca shook his head, laughing. "No Sam," he said. "I'm taking you to lunch." They entered a large dining room down the hall and sat at a small table in the corner. "It isn't safe for us to go out to dinner in town so I'm having it brought to us here."
A uniformed Carabiniere entered carrying a tray, like a waiter. He was overly theatrical and winked at Sam as he shook a linen tablecloth and slipped it over the table with a flourish. He polished the silverware with his serving napkin and set them gently in front of Sam.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sam noticed that a group of Luca's men were gathered outside the dining area door, watching as their colleague served lunch. She tapped Luca's shin under the table and cocked her head slightly in the direction of the door.
Their waiter bowed deeply as he set a ham and cheese panino in front of Sam, and followed it with a soft drink and a napkin. Luca stood up and chased him away with mock ferocity. His men scattered as he hollered at them to get back to work.
He returned to the table. "I'm sorry about the men," he said. He was still smiling. "They are as bad as my mother."
Sam nodded. "They take good care of you, Luca." She paused, "I'm not sure why you evoke that kind of a response in people. You're arrogant, overbearing, presumptuous and opinionated."
"And?" he asked.
"Damn you," she said, "you ordered lunch for me again without asking me. Oh you... Never mind. Thanks." She tried to be angry with him. "Just eat your sandwich."
He could read her mind. That was the problem with him. He could read her mind and under his hypnotic spell she had a bad habit of telling him what she was thinking. She needed to detach herself from this captivating, handsome man.
She regretted nothing about her visit here. In many ways, Luca had helped her see herself in a new light. His presence over the last few days had been a useful catharsis for her. She had spilled her inner self for him in a moment of weakness. He had been like a priest. She had made her confession and that in itself, opened some doors for her. But, she cautioned herself in a detached and unemotional analysis, he was merely the signal that she could love again, not necessarily the object of that love.
In a few short hours this bizarre adventure would be over. She would be safe and free and she knew that she'd be stronger for having lived this week in Italy. She had learned lessons here that she would carry with her forever. She had survived the nightmare and awakened into a glorious new beginning filled with morning colors.
She finished her sandwich and noticed that Luca was staring at her with his piercing, hypnotic eyes. She looked back at him. How often had they played this staring game? She made him drop his stare. He pressed his fists into his eyes and yawned.
"Tired?" Sam asked.
Damn! she thought to herself. Of course he's tired. He was up all night holding baby-bad-dreams in his arms.
Luca smiled at her. "I didn't sleep well."
He could have pressed his advantage. He could have made her feel small and weak and reminded her that she had needed him the night before. He chose instead to leave it alone. He didn't play fair. She almost wanted him to do something to make her angry, but Luca had learned where to tread lightly with Sam. She had to admit that he was trying very hard not to upset her. She knew then that he had never meant to rub her the wrong way and at that moment she began to wonder why she had reacted so strongly to him from the beginning.
The danger signs along that line of thought were clear. For someone who had, for so many years, blocked out the things she didn't want to think about, switching thoughts was fairly easy. She finished her soda, stood up and checked her watch.
"When do we leave?" she asked.
Luca stood up and called to his men. One of them returned and handed Sam a dark brunette wig and a dark pair of glasses. Luca led her to the bathroom and conferred with his men outside while she put on the disguise. She emerged looking like a different person and the men stared. She was a stunning blonde, but, from the looks of the men, she was a breathtaking brunette.
She sashayed down the corridor toward the boat landing. The men, laughed and pointed and watched her go. She turned to see Luca still standing where she'd left him. His mouth was open, like he was searching for something to say.
"You coming, or am I doing this thing alone?" She added sulkily, "Luca, dear, close your mouth. You look like a fish."
Luca rushed down the hall toward her. The men laughed. He stopped and turned, propping his hands on his hips and glaring. The men scattered and went back to work.
The trip to the train station was a brief one. They sped down the Grand Canal and turned off into a smaller one to the right. They slowed and squeezed down a narrower canal, stopping when they reached a church.
"This is the church of San Giobe," Luca said. "We will walk around the block from here to get to the train station."
They arrived at the station moments later. Luca was wearing a concealed radio with an earpiece and held a microphone key, connected to a wire which ran down his arm. They paused at the top of the steps which led down to the Grand Canal. Luca spoke softly and waited for a response. He nodded and told Sam that all was clear. They entered the large train terminal, walked through a doorway and climbed the stairs to a small security station which overlooked the ticket counters and waiting areas below.
The booth was small. Luca's leg brushed against hers sending electric sensations pulsing up and down her spine. Luca handed her a small pair of binoculars and Sam began to study the crowd.
Once the crowd on the floor had been checked, Sam had only to check the individuals who arrived, one or two at a time by the main entrance. Each time a train arrived, about every ten or fifteen minutes, Sam frantically scanned the faces of the waves of people that entered the terminal from the train. Soon the group waiting would trade places with those arriving and when they had left, a new group of people would settle in the lobby below.
The station was filled with the sounds of trains. Metal wheels screeched on tracks, doors opened and closed. Baggage handlers wheeled suitcases, bags and trunks on carts. People rushed about, shouting here, whistling there. The intercom announced the arrivals and departures in a bored monotone. Sam, still wearing dark glasses and the brunette wig surveyed the platform below and looked for the wanted man.
An hour passed, then another. No one who looked like their quarry appeared. Luca left his hand-held radio for her and took a walk below. He returned with a cup of coffee for each of them. Sam was amazed that he brought porcelain cups, not plastic disposables. She wondered if it was because he was Luca, or if it was just because this was Italy. She had been instantly impressed with the small touches of class that seemed to permeate every aspect of this intriguing society. It was as though each person wanted to give their best. Each new friend pulled out all stops and tried to out-do the others. It was a classy city filled with classy people. She would miss them.
Her thoughts turned to her own predicament as she sipped her strong black coffee. The ship was at sea. As soon as this was over, she wanted more than anything to just get back to the ship and pick up her life where she had left it on Friday; she counted back on her fingers, only four days ago. Maybe the Colonel could get her back on board by helicopter as soon as this was ove
r.
She had to face the facts. She was a fish out of water in Venice. This wasn't her element. She couldn't think objectively here. No rational person would jump into any kind of relationship with a foreign person in a foreign place only four days after the first meeting. Even if the first meeting was pleasant, which the meeting with Luca had, decidedly, not been.
There were too many problems with Luca. He played with her emotions. He made her lose control, and always seemed to get the best of her. She knew, deep inside herself, that all of her emotions were heightened by the newness of this place. This would not happen to her in the States and it certainly would not happen to her on the ship.
On the ship she was in control. She was "Doc", on board. Everyone knew that in case of sickness, or serious injury, she was what stood between them and death. She was looked up to as one of the top Hospital Corpsmen in the Navy. She was sure of herself and enjoyed the complete confidence of her superiors.
It was only in this environment that she fell apart. Only here, only with Luca, did she feel helpless, lost and frustrated. The answer was simple. She had to get away from Venice. Yes, she thought, I'll ask the Colonel to get me a flight out as soon as this operation is over.
She forced herself to study the people below, consciously blocking Luca out of her mind. She knew why and she was happy to continue thinking about other things. She raised her dark glasses and lifted the binoculars to her eyes. She felt her heart beat faster and her hand shook.
A man in a trench-coat emerged from the telephone booth on the other side of the lobby. He was glancing around and moving furtively, suspiciously.
Sam concentrated, studying him with her spy-glasses, concentrating. He faced her squarely and glanced up at the clock centered over the entrance. The man had a moustache and blue eyes. His hair was well groomed and lighter brown than the man she was looking for. She eased back into her chair.
"See something?" Luca asked.
"No." She exhaled. "That guy in the trench coat looked a little squirrelly but it isn't him."
Sam pointed the man out to Luca. He radioed for one of the agents to watch the man Sam had studied. A chill ran down Sam's spine. She suddenly remembered that the man she was looking for wasn't the only bad guy out there. She pulled a dark strand of the wig in front of her and stared at it.
"Think this wig will work, Luca?"
Luca shook his head. "It may have the opposite effect we intended it to." he leaned close to Sam and whispered. "The station security guard can't keep his eyes off you."
Sam glanced casually at the security guard who shared the booth with her and Luca. She had felt his eyes scrutinizing her earlier. He looked away quickly.
"What do you think of me like this?" She couldn't stop the words. She clutched the binoculars in a tight fist and waited for Luca to say what she knew he would say.
"Troppo bella!" he whispered, "You are too beautiful."
"Too beautiful for this type of work," she commented "I should be ugly and troll-like." She was furious with herself and with her big mouth. Why can't I just keep my mouth shut long enough to get away from this irritating man. Luca didn't let it end.
"Ugly like me?" he asked.
"No. Uh. Look, Luca.... You. You're...."
Sam and her big mouth were saved by a small weasel of a man in a brown, wool coat, who stepped off an arriving train before it stopped completely and walked straight to the lockers on the side of the station. Sam saw him instantly. She trained the binoculars to focus on his face.
The man moved quickly, glancing casually about. He positioned himself on the center of the far wall next to the lockers and turned slowly. He was carrying a small attaché case which he placed between his ankles. He propped himself against the wall and concentrated on studying the lobby. He kept the crowd before him, cowering with his back pressed against the safety of a wall. He looked nervous. Edgy. His actions were surreptitious and careful. He looked and acted like a man on the run, but smooth, like a man who had been on the run for a long time.
Sam couldn't speak. Although she had mentally prepared herself for this moment, the raw emotion of seeing the attacker again was like a blow to the stomach. Her heart was pounding in her throat. She could not breathe. The man who had wielded the knife at the ferry landing was in the lobby below!
"Luca!" she croaked. She tugged at Luca's sleeve and pointed to the man.
Luca pulled her back from the window and keyed his microphone. Sam watched from the shadows as agents below materialized from nowhere and converged on the man in the brown coat. Luca's uniformed men arrived and took custody of the struggling suspect. Sam was frozen in the corner of the observation booth, her tiny binoculars clenched tightly in her hand.
Luca stood by her side listening to the radio through his earpiece and relaying orders and bits of information to the operatives below. He turned to her, a satisfied smile on his face. "Sam," he said, "It’s over, now." He reached up and removed her wig then straightened her short, sassy blonde hair with his strong fingers. Sam's eyes closed involuntarily at his touch. She leaned in to him briefly. Relief flooded over her. She tried a faint smile but she knew the strain was evident in her eyes. Luca thanked the security guard and led her to the door.
Sam trudged along mechanically next to Luca as he guided her by one elbow. They left the booth, descended the stairs and walked out of the station, into the darkening evening.
At the base of the steps, a gondolier called out advertising rides in his beautiful black gondola.
"Have you ever been in a gondola?" Luca asked.
Sam crossed her arms and glared at Luca. "I got off my ship's boat, watched a guy get stabbed and spent just about every other waking moment with you. When, Luca, have I had time to ride on a gondola?" She should have seen where that response would get her. She should have lied. She should have told him that she was born on a damn gondola! She should have told him she rode a gondola to work every day. She should have.... She should never have set foot in Venice.
Luca's hand locked on her arm and guided her to the gondola. She fumed to herself, but said nothing. She had set herself up. She was going to ask the Colonel to fly her out of Venice. Instead she was going to be sitting cozily in the lover's seats of a gondola with a man who did strange things to her heart beat. She tried to make her escape. "Luca, I need to talk to Colonel Garelli," she said lamely.
"He went back to the station with the bad guy. We will meet him there," he said smoothly. "Get in."
It was another imperious order from his majesty, King Luca! Sam was getting a little tired of being dragged from place to place by this man. She refused to acknowledge the excitement she felt as she stepped off the steps of the wharf and into the fairy tale world of a gondola ride in Venice, the magic city of love.
The gondola rocked dangerously as the gondolier steered it across the wake of a water-bus. Luca was wedged in beside Sam. His hand was resting on his thigh and his little finger brushed hers, intentionally she thought.
The gondolier and Luca spoke rapidly in Italian. Sam needed to learn this language. She was increasingly uncomfortable with his conversations in his native tongue. The gondolier spoke to Luca as though they were old friends. Sam narrowed her eyes at the thought of being set-up again. Maybe this time they were kidnapping her for real. She opened her mouth to speak when the gondolier began to sing. Luca harmonized with the man and they sang unabashedly into the Venetian evening. Sam had heard gondoliers singing in the distance when Doug had toured Venice with her days before. Luca's voice, blending with the deep rich baritone of the gondolier, turned her bones to liquid. She closed her eyes and heard them finish the song. People on the shore clapped as the long gondola eased into a long canal. They disappeared from view as Sam's gondola passed under a bridge.
Luca and the gondolier laughed to each other, and spoke in rapid Italian.
"What was the name of that song, Luca?" Damn! She had done it again.
Luca was clearly amused.
> It was the gondolier who answered her question. "That signorina is a very old song that was written especially for you. It is called, `The Little Blonde in the Gondola.'"
"You set me up! You set me up again, Luca Danieli!" Sam tried to scorch him with her eyes. "I suppose the singing, gondola jockey is your cousin too?"
Luca and the gondolier were laughing uncontrollably. The police chief's hands were held up in his now nauseating gesture of innocence. Sam wrenched the long haired wig out of Luca's hands and thrashed him with it, flailing it back and forth across his face and hands. The gondola rocked from side to side, unstable because of her fury and out of control because the gondolier was doubled over with laughter.
Yells from an approaching gondola alerted them to their course deviation. The gondolier deftly braced the long oar against the strong thole, the brace which the gondoliers used to skull the boats and steer. The long craft veered sharply and the upturned, decorative comb on the prow narrowly missed the oncoming gondola.
The two gondoliers hollered at each other in Italian, then joined each other in a good laugh and parted still friends.
Sam, having nearly caused an accident, settled back in her seat. Luca was still chuckling and Sam felt a smile tug at the sides of her mouth. "You're a jerk, Luca," it didn't come out the way she intended. She sounded like a child.
Luca placed his arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze. "I confess. I set you up. The gondolier isn't my cousin, but he is a good friend of mine. I am sorry."
"You're a jerk."
"I am still sorry."
"You're still a jerk."
The gondola kissed the rubber bumper on the outboard side of the police boat. The boat was moored to the dock behind the Carabinieri station. Sam and Luca climbed up the short ladder and onto the deck, then crossed to the dock where a uniformed policeman waited at the gate.
They walked down the long gloomy corridor for what Samantha hoped would be the last time. She passed the small room she remembered as the dungeon. The captured assailant was inside and was being questioned by a group of uniformed officers and agents. The attaché case he had carried was open on the table. The Colonel saw them arrive and stepped from the room pulling the door closed behind him.