by Sharon Timm
At each door and window, Sam paused to listen. She heard no one outside. Just the constant creaking and bumping of boats.
Satisfied with her check of the perimeter, Sam concentrated on examining the contents of the large room. The dim outlines of shapes she had seen earlier, were old furnaces and curing ovens. Stacked in the corner by one of them, she found some long iron tubes. She found some solid iron bars and some shears by a large block of cold steel or iron. She tested the block's weight. It would not budge.
Sam returned to the tools, selected a couple of the solid bars, the shears and one of the tubes, and carried them back to the cage.
"What did you find, Sam?" Luca's voice sounded weak.
"A few odds and ends," Sam responded, "some tubes, some bars and a cutter of some sort."
She tried the cutter first. It was old and rusted and the jaws didn't travel far enough to contact each other. She strained to squeeze the handles together without success. After several moments, she tossed the cutters aside and concentrated on the heavy steel bar. Her first idea was to slip the bar between a loop of the chain and twist it end for end. She reasoned that if there was a weakness in the chain the twisting motion and leverage provided by the bar's length might snap the chain.
The chain held fast and she felt the long bar begin to bend. Doubting the strength of the single bar, she repeated the process with two bars. This time she felt something give way. She inspected the chain and discovered that the pressure she was exerting on the chain was only bending the gate's frame against the post. She inspected the chain and found it to be intact.
She dropped the bars, they made a loud clanking sound. Sam swore softly under her breath.
"No luck?" Luca asked.
"Strong chain," she said. "By the way, Luca, before I hurt myself here, do you know how to pick a lock?"
"Not really," Luca said. "Can you raise the fence up enough for me to crawl under?"
"I can try," she said, "but there is a reinforcing wire that runs along the edge, top and bottom. It might be tough."
She slipped the bar under the fabric and pried it up. It flexed slightly. Sam remembered the other bar, slipped it under the fence about two feet apart from the first. She straightened her back and felt the fabric buckle and flex.
"Can you slip under, Luca?"
She heard the rustling sound of Luca moving from the paper bag bed. He sucked in his breath and Sam knew he had shifted his leg and been overcome by the severe pain. She wished she had some medication she could give him to relieve the agony he must be in. She heard him approaching and could see his dim figure in the darkness.
He felt for the gap Sam had made and squeezed his head and shoulders through. He was lying on his back staring up as he struggled to force his way under the fence. He had managed to get most of his body out when the door at the far end of the building opened and a man with a flashlight rushed in.
Sam released her grip on the levers and the fabric snapped back into place catching Luca across the thighs. He cried out with pain. Sam crouched down into the shadows and reached for the hollow tube she had brought.
Luca was still groaning, and the approaching man was distracted by Luca. He did not see Sam until it was too late. She lunged from the shadows, swinging the tube like a baseball bat. She caught the man with a powerful blow to the stomach. His breath was forced from his body with a loud hiss. He dropped his flashlight and another object which thumped on the ground, and collapsed gasping hoarsely for breath.
"Get the gun Sam!" Luca moaned.
"What gun?" Suddenly Sam realized what the other thump had been. She dropped to her knees next to the writhing man, grabbed his flashlight and shone it around searching for the gun.
The man rolled toward her. "I don't have time for this!" Sam said matter-of-factly. She shined the light in his eyes and kicked the man solidly in the ribs. He rolled away and gasped again for breath.
Sam retrieved the gun. It was a pistol, a semi-automatic. Sam was a qualified expert with a Navy issue nine millimeter Beretta. She thought this gun looked like the one she had shot, but it was a bit smaller. She noted that the gun was cocked. She placed the safety on.
"Hurry, Sam!" Luca groaned, still trapped under the fence.
Sam hurried over and lifted he fence. Luca freed his legs and pulled himself to his feet using the fence for support. Sam handed him the pistol.
"It's loaded and cocked. Safety's on," she said.
Sam held the light while Luca handled the weapon. He released the magazine, checked that it was full and dropped it in his pocket. He worked the slide, ejecting the chambered bullet and slipped this into his pocked also. He quickly racked the slide back and pulled the trigger checking that the weapon was working properly. He tested the safety then pushed the bullet back into the magazine, snapped the magazine into the pistol and chambered a round. The man on the ground was beginning to get his breath back. Sam handed the light to Luca. She rolled the man toward her, and to his surprise ripped the front of his shirt off. She rolled him back over and began to tie the man's hands behind his back with the twisted material of what used to be his shirt. He tried to resist briefly but she drove her knee into his kidney. "I told you I don't have time for this," she said fiercely. The man relaxed. She didn't know if he understood her language but he had suffered under her body language three times in the last few minutes. He complied.
Luca attempted to interrogate their former guard. The man either did not understand or refused to talk. The men who had forced them on to the boat had spoken a foreign language. Sam reasoned that this man, too, was a foreigner.
Luca took a few steps toward her and stumbled. Sam turned and steadied him. He would not be able to walk on his own. He would need a crutch. She remembered the bar she had used to pry the fence up. She returned to the gate, wedged the bar into the chain and levered it around until the end of the bar began to bend. She threw her weight into it and the top foot, or so, of the bar, gripped by the twisted chain, bent over into an "L" shape. Satisfied, she removed it and handed it to Luca. It wasn't the perfect crutch, but it was something he could lean on.
Luca spoke to the man, again in Italian, and once more in English. The man did not seem to understand. Luca kicked him gently and waved the gun. The man understood and began to get up. With their new prisoner, Sam and Luca walked slowly toward the door.
Sam crept ahead, still carrying the tube with her. She looked carefully out the open door and studied their surroundings. There was no one around.
Luca nudged the man with his pistol and he walked slowly outside. When he was even with Sam, he looked quickly about and took a step as if to make a break for it. Sam reached out quickly, grabbed a handful of the man's hair, dragged him back and slammed him against the doorway. She said nothing. She just held the iron tube in front of his face and he nodded that he understood.
Luca pointed toward some boats moored at the end of the wharf. He spoke quickly and quietly to Sam. They would have to get their prisoner back to Venice. Murano relied on the Venice police. There was no police after hours on the island, except for the periodic patrols from Venice. "We will have to take a boat." he said.
They found a boat moored to a vertical pole. Sam jumped down and tried to figure out how to start it. No luck. The second boat had a pull chord. Sam tried to start it while Luca shined the flashlight with one hand and covered their prisoner with the pistol in his other hand.
Shouts behind them caught their attention. Luca pushed the man headlong into the boat and ducked down below the wharf level on the steps which led down to the boat. The man opened his mouth to yell but Sam was ready. She clapped a hand over his mouth and grabbed a handful of his hair again. He was silent.
Sam ripped the other half of his shirt front, and gagged him with it.
Sam heard Luca chuckle behind her. "I know this isn't the time," he whispered, "but where did you learn how to do that?"
"Jacksonville Naval Hospital." she said. "Psych Ward."
When they were out of sight, Sam jumped back into the boat and began to try to start the engine. It sputtered and stalled. On the fourth try it chugged to life. Luca untied them, stepped toward the boat, stumbled and fell against the gunwale. He groaned in agony as he pulled himself aboard. Sam moved forward and Luca took the controls. She crouched in the boat. Her iron pipe resting on the tarpaulin covering their prisoner. She nudged him with it to remind him she was still there.
The boat eased away from the wharf, cruised up a narrow canal and turned into the wide open waters of the Venetian lagoon.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sam could see Venice ahead. The lights of the fairy tale city danced across the rippling water. They chugged along rocking gently across the darkness. The reflected lights were like stars in the night sky. Sam thought the effect was magic.
What wasn't magic was the distant sound of a powerful boat starting up behind them. Sam worried. It would take some magic to escape a faster boat if they were being pursued. She looked back toward the quickly receding shoreline of Murano. At first, she saw nothing, then, a sleek boat emerged from a narrow canal. There was a clearly visible bow wave as the craft picked up speed.
"We're being followed!" Sam shouted to Luca.
Luca turned and nodded. He pushed the throttle to the stops, but the small work-boat would be no match for the speed of the boat behind them. Luca pointed toward Venice. "Shine the flashlight toward that point straight ahead," Luca said pointing to a point of land that jutted into the water from the city.
Glass shattered behind Sam. "What was that?" she asked.
"I broke the stern light. It will make us harder to follow. Just shine the light and hope someone sees it. Turn it on and off quickly and don't stop."
Sam began flashing the light rapidly. "What is over there?" she asked.
"That is the Navy Base where we were the other day. Hopefully the sailor on watch will see it and call my patrols to investigate. If we are lucky my patrols will find us before the boat catches us."
They were passing the shadows of a walled island. Luca said it was the island of San Michele. There were no other boats on the water. Just the small plodding work boat and a larger faster boat closing in.
"I have an idea, Sam." Luca glanced over his shoulder, and began to ease the wheel over, steering the boat to the left. "Look back and tell me when the other boat is out of sight,"
Sam watched as the shape of the walled cemetery loomed between them and their pursuers. When they were blocked from view, Sam hollered. "Now!"
Luca spun the wheel and headed straight for the island. The small boat was rapidly approaching the dark outline of the walls. There were no lights to guide them. The man under the tarp moved and Sam tapped him with her metal tube to remind him she was still there. She moved forward to the bow of the boat looking ahead for rocks or a landing. Luca drove the boat straight ahead. The distance was closing rapidly but he continued to careen straight toward the high walls of the city of the dead.
At the last moment, Luca spun the wheel hard to starboard. The boat heeled over onto its new course, glancing off the stone foundation of the cemetery walls. Luca throttled back to full reverse. The boat slowed and settled in its wake.
"Are we getting out here?" Sam asked.
Luca reached out with his makeshift crutch and pulled the boat against the bank. "Climb out Sam," he said.
"What about him?"
"Bring him with us. He may be the only person who knows who is involved in this."
Sam jerked the tarpaulin off the man, cowering in the bottom of the boat. She nudged him with her pipe and the man quickly scrambled onto the narrow ledge formed by the foundation. Sam thought briefly that he was going to try something. She tapped him with the pipe. Luca snapped the safety off loudly and brandished the pistol. The prisoner froze on the ledge and didn't move.
Sam scrambled onto the ledge and pulled the boat close for Luca to drag himself over. He cried out in pain and slumped heavily against the cemetery wall. Sam steadied him in place.
"Tie the wheel in place and throw the throttle forward, Sam. Let the boat keep going."
Sam twisted the tarpaulin into a thick rope, looped it through the wheel and tied a loose knot to keep the rudder centered. She threw the throttle forward and pushed the boat it the direction of the channel. The boat chugged away from them. They pressed themselves down on the ledge as the small boat faded from sight, and the sound of the pursuing boat grew louder.
The ruse worked. The large boat sped on, following the smaller one into the darkness. With no lights, the smaller boat was hard to see and harder to follow. When the sound of the boat's engines faded, Luca struggled to his feet.
"Follow me," he said.
Sam nudged her prisoner and they filed carefully behind Luca as he led them along the ledge. They moved as quickly as Luca's injury and the narrow ledge would allow. Stepping gingerly around a corner, Sam saw the dim shape of a large landing ahead and a gate in the towering wall. Sam pushed the bound man ahead of her, keeping a tight grip on his jacket. She was aware that if he fell into the water with his hands tied behind him, he would not be able to swim.
Luca hobbled across the landing and pushed open the ancient, iron gate. The hinges screamed with an eerie sound. Luca's improvised crutch made a clinking sound which echoed off the rows of mausoleums and monuments. Sam shuddered as she pushed the gate shut. The squeal of the rusted hinges reverberated and the gate clanked shut. It sounded like the slamming of a prison door. It was a haunting sound. It was a spooky place to hide.
Sam released the prisoner's jacket and prodded him to follow Luca. They entered the maze of tombs and twisted and turned through passageways between the graves until they found what Luca was looking for.
Sam approved of the location instantly. It was deep in the cemetery, against the perimeter wall. A narrow space between two monuments opened into a larger chamber. There was only one way in and one way out. It was easily defensible and inaccessible from three sides. The perimeter was tall and unlikely to be scaled.
"Get comfortable," Luca said. "We will wait here for morning."
Sam pointed to a corner of the chamber. The now obedient prisoner moved quietly to the corner, sat on the ground and leaned against the marble of the grave marker. Sam eased Luca to the ground and checked his wound with the flashlight. The outer binding had shifted but the bleeding from the exit wound had stopped. The bandages she'd stuffed inside his trouser leg and over the wound were being held tightly in place by the swelling. She noticed how tight his pants were against his swollen thigh, and worried that it might be too tight. She removed his shoe, remembering then that his laces, as well as hers, were still tied to the fence in the warehouse. She ran her fingers over his foot. "Can you feel this?" she asked.
"Yes."
She pulled the sock off and inspected his foot. It was slightly swollen, but his circulation looked good. She debated enlarging the tear she had started over the wound, but opted to leave well enough alone. "I have to get you to a doctor, Luca."
"What time is it?"
Sam looked at her watch. "Four thirty," she said.
Sam sat next to Luca on the cold ground and leaned against the stone sepulcher. She wished now that she had kept the tarpaulin from the boat. Luca needed to keep warm. She reached out and felt his forehead with her hands. His skin was hot to the touch. He was breathing deeply, Sam thought he might have passed out again, from the pain and the exertion, but he was just resting.
He whispered to her, "I'm glad you are still here, Sam."
"What do you mean still here, Luca? Did you think I would leave you here, in a cemetery, and go for a boat ride?"
"I mean here in Venice with me, and not back on your ship." Luca suc
ked in his breath. Sam felt his body shudder as a wave of agony coursed through his body.
"I wasn't expecting you to ask the Colonel to send you back. I guess I kind of panicked when I thought that you would actually leave. I was hoping..." Luca stopped mid-sentence.
"Hoping what, Luca?" He was leading her thoughts again. She was asking questions she shouldn't ask. Then again, maybe she should be asking these questions. What exactly did he have in mind?
"I was hoping we could work things out. I was hoping we could go back to the way we were for that brief moment when we were holding hands and talking on the road by my home. I was hoping that you would find a reason to stay with me. I was hoping..."
Sam pressed her hand over his mouth. She did not want to hear any more about his hopes. His hopes matched her fantasies a bit too closely. This all should have been over hours ago. She should be lying safely in her third story rack, the gentle roll of her giant cruiser rocking her to sleep and the soft, comforting vibrations of the gas turbines massaging her as she slept. Instead she was here, sitting on the cold ground in a cemetery, hiding behind the tombstones, guarding a prisoner and nursing a wounded man.
She had no clinical detachment with this patient. He kissed the palm of her hand and she found herself running her fingers through his hair. He had evoked every imaginable feeling in her since she first saw him merely five days before. This latest feeling was one she was familiar with. She wanted to protect him, nurse him back to health. She wanted to sit by his side each night and wake him each morning. She wanted to cradle him in her arms and keep him safe.
Sam remembered the way he'd cradled her when the nightmares had come. She wanted to kiss this man. She wanted to hold him in her arms and thank him for his touch, his presence and his warmth.
Yet, sitting there in the dark, Sam looked at the sky and realized how desperately she wanted to push him away. He threatened her whole existence. If she could somehow get out of the life threatening position she was in, she would still face a battle for her soul.