by Rita Vetere
His brow creased in a frown as he considered the heavy caseload he’d taken on, with Dr. Fenelli the only other doctor to assist him. Still, Rossi had never been afraid of hard work, and this was the opportunity he’d waited for all his life. Whatever it took, he was going to make his mark here. Besides, he had to admit, he’d been more than a little intrigued by the similar symptoms being displayed by the unruly patients. Truth be told, he couldn’t wait to examine them tomorrow.
* * * *
Rosaria doubled over in pain, rocked by another contraction only moments after the last one. Her mother-in-law helped her up the stairs and into bed. “It’s not time yet,” Rosaria fretted. “The baby’s not due to arrive for another month.” She raised her worried eyes to her mother-in-law.
“Babies have a way of coming when they’re ready,” her mother-in-law reassured her. “It is a little soon, but I’m certain everything will be fine. Lie down now and I will send Massimo to stay with you while I fetch the midwife,” she said, hurrying out of the room.
A few minutes later, Massimo entered. He smiled warmly at her, and kissed her.
“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” she told him. “Soon we will be holding our child.”
“Are you in much pain?” he asked, his concern evident in his eyes.
“Not so bad.” She smiled, thinking that, most likely by tonight, Massimo would be more than a husband; he would be a father holding their newborn child in his arms, as he had longed to do for the past two years. “Are you happy?” she asked.
“Deliriously happy. And I love you.” He kissed her again.
* * * *
“Push!”
Rosaria did her best to follow the midwife’s instruction. Her mother-in-law, who remained in the bedroom with her after Massimo had been shooed out by the two women hours ago, wiped Rosaria’s brow and spoke soothingly to her.
After twelve hours of labor, Rosaria was drenched with sweat, her hair plastered to her head, the agony of birthing her child growing more enormous by the minute. She pushed with all her might, trying to ignore the blinding pain across her midsection, exerting maximum pressure in an effort to push the baby out.
Suddenly, she felt a burning, stinging sensation as her flesh tore and the baby slid through the birth canal to enter the world.
Tears of relief sprang to her eyes, not only because she’d been liberated from the pain of childbirth, but because she knew she had finally succeeded in bearing Massimo the child he had always dreamed of.
Her relief, however, was short-lived. She lifted her head to peek over the sheet draped across her, but could not see her baby or what the midwife was doing. Rosaria’s mother-in-law remained silent and did not look at her. She heard a slapping sound, but not the ensuing cry of her child. She looked to her mother-in-law for reassurance, but the woman still did not meet her eyes.
“What’s happening? Is my baby all right?”
Her words were answered by the sound of another slap that rang through the quiet room like a gunshot, and her fear mounted. “Tell me what’s happening,” she demanded. “I want to see my baby.”
At her words, her mother-in-law seemed to snap out of whatever trance she’d been in. The woman looked at the midwife. Rosaria saw the midwife shake her head no.
“Rosaria.” Her mother-in-law moved to her side and took hold of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Tears had formed in her mother-in-law’s eyes and a wave of dread coursed through her in anticipation of her next words.
“Your son... Your son did not survive the birth.”
A scream of anguish pierced the room which Rosaria almost did not recognize as her own. Disconnected thoughts filled her mind as shock and disappointment rang through her. My baby. Dead. Oh, Massimo. A boy. Our son is dead.
The midwife quickly bundled the stillborn child in blankets and carried him out of the room.
“No! My baby... Bring him back to me! I want to see him!” Rosaria struggled to get out of bed, ignoring her mother-in-law’s efforts to comfort her, her hysterical cries echoing through the house.
Chapter 9
Venice, Italy
Present Day
At one in the afternoon, having finished with the paperwork left by Falcone, Anna and Alejandro walked out of the old office building and made their way to an outdoor trattoria near the Grand Canal. They both ordered grilled panini and had almost finished eating when Falcone called Alejandro on his cellphone to say he’d lined up a driver to take them to Poveglia.
“Wonderful,” Anna said. “Are you just about done?”
Alejandro popped the last morsel of his sandwich in his mouth and summoned the waiter. “All set. The water taxi stand’s nearby. We can get there in a few minutes.”
As they traveled the crowded street, Anna studied Alejandro out of the corner of her eye. She liked the primal way he moved, and several times during lunch she’d caught herself wondering what he’d be like in bed. She reminded herself it would be best to nip this infatuation in the bud, even though she sensed the attraction might be mutual.
At two o’clock, they arrived at the dock and were directed in English to one of the wooden boats nearby, similar to the one Anna had boarded from the airport.
The driver, a middle-aged man with graying hair and an impressive handle-bar moustache, appeared somewhat surly as he hurried them onto the boat with a wave of his hand. No sooner had they taken their seats than the boat pulled out into the canal. Once they hit the open water of the lagoon, Anna called out to the driver, “How long is the trip to Poveglia?”
“Not long.” The man at the wheel sounded annoyed, and didn’t turn around.
Anna looked at Alejandro and raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem to have the same warm disposition as most of the other Italians I’ve met.” she whispered.
Alejandro suppressed a smile and whispered back, “I don’t think he’s Italian. The accent sounds Romanian, I think. Maybe he had other fares, and had to set them aside to take us.”
“I wonder why the island isn’t accessible by public transport.”
“Yes, it does seem strange,” Alejandro replied. “But it is private property now, and Falcone probably wanted to make sure the place remains off-limits to the public until the construction is complete. Insurance reasons, no doubt.”
As the boat sped into the lagoon, heavy clouds rolled in, blotting out sun and blue sky. The air turned sticky-hot.
“Looks like it might rain. Shall we move to the cabin?” Alejandro asked.
She followed him to the covered sitting area behind the driver. Several motor boats passed them, as well as vaporetti filled with tourists on their way to the outlying islands. A short while later they passed a rusted-out freighter. After that, water traffic dwindled to nothing.
Fifteen minutes or so into the trip, Anna spotted a large land mass on the horizon through the cabin window. “Is that it?” she asked.
“No, that’s the Lido,” replied Alejandro. “We should be approaching the island anytime now. It’s close by.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Alejandro pointed at something out the window next to him and Anna leaned forward to look. Not far from them, she could see the dark outline of an island covered with trees. Poking up from the tree line was what appeared to be the silhouette of a tower.
“There’s an existing structure on the island?”
“Yes,” Alejandro replied, “a defunct hospital, according to Falcone.”
For some reason, maybe because the darkening sky had turned the water gunmetal grey, the island appeared dismal to Anna, depressing almost.
At that moment, a blaring boat horn sounded behind them, making Anna jump. Their boat slowed, and she turned to see a police vessel pulling up beside the water taxi. Their driver got up and reached out to pull the vessels together, assisted by one of the carabinieri on the other boat. The taxi driver reached one hand into his trouser pocket and extracted a piece of paper, which he showed to the offic
er nearest him on the other boat. After looking the paper over carefully, the officer returned the document and waved them on. “Avanti.”
Anna stared at the proceedings in surprise. When they were underway again, she asked the driver, “What was that all about?”
At first she thought he was not going to answer. Then he said in a curt voice, “The carabinieri patrol the island during the day. To keep the tourists out.”
Anna turned to Alejandro.”Falcone seems to be going out of his way to keep people off the island. Must be costing him a fortune for police services.”
“I doubt Falcone hired them,” replied Alejandro. “I don’t think the carabinieri provide services to the private sector. There must be another reason they’re patroling the water. Perhaps the driver’s mistaken.”
As they approached the island, Anna fell silent. The depressing feeling she had experienced a moment ago returned. Crowned by the darkening sky and surrounded by the slate-gray water, the island looked positively ominous. All was silent, save for the din of the motor.
She caught the sound of a quick beep coming from her purse, followed immediately by another nearby. She and Alejandro both pulled out their cellphones. “My phone’s gone out of service,” she said.
“Hnh. Mine too,” replied Alejandro. “I guess we’re out of range here.”
The driver pulled the boat into a narrow inlet, and Anna noticed a set of stone stairs leading up to the island, presumably where they would dock. The taxi coasted parallel to the stone wall next to the staircase and the driver tied off. Anna and Alejandro disembarked, carrying their equipment bags with them. The churlish driver didn’t bother to kill the motor. Obviously, he was in a hurry to return to the mainland.
Once Anna and Alejandro climbed the stone stairs to the top of the landing, the driver called out to them as he untied the ropes from the cleats. “I will return at six-thirty to take you back—be here on time, otherwise I leave, okay?” Without waiting for their answer, the man pulled the boat away and Anna watched as the vessel roared out into the open water.
She looked at Alejandro, who shook his head at the man’s rudeness.
“Let’s hope our watches don’t stop,” he said, “otherwise we’ll be forced to spend the night.”
Anna caught the mischievous glint in Alejandro’s eyes and laughed. It struck her again that she liked this man and would enjoy working with him.
He motioned to the stone path in front of them. “After you.”
The path ran alongside a two-story stone building, fronted by the bell tower she’d spied earlier from the boat. Thick, sinewy vines climbed up the cracked walls to the second story, and tangled weeds spilled out from the cracks in the flagstone pathway. The place had obviously been abandoned long ago. The old building’s many windows were leaded, the reinforced glass still intact. “So, this must be the old hospital,” she said.
“I assume so,” replied Alejandro.”Looks like it’s been shut down for some time.”
As they followed the path past the hospital, they encountered another smaller building, with only one large window.
Anna had the strangest feeling as she made her way along the passageway. Something about the island struck her as odd, although she could not put her finger on what, exactly. As they approached the next building, it occurred to her. Even though heavily treed and overrun with tangled vines and bushes, she detected no sounds of nature—no birds singing in the nearby trees, no crickets chirping in the tall grass. Nothing. The absolute silence of the place seemed eerie. She was about to mention this to Alejandro when they arrived at a third building connected to the other two by the path along which they were making their way. The heavy wooden doors of the windowless stone structure hung ajar and a small smokestack rose from the roof. Anna stopped and peeked into the dim interior. Curious, she stepped inside, followed by Alejandro. The large room was empty, save for two brick constructions, each about five feet in height, and each with an arched metal grate fronting the bottom and a round, hinged steel door near the top.
“Wonder what these were used for,” she said.
Alejandro did not answer, and she turned to see him frowning. He walked up to one of the constructions, opened the round door and bent over to peer inside. From behind him, Anna spied a metal cylinder with a grate resting on the open bottom. Alejandro straightened up quickly and took her arm. “Let’s go,” he said, leading her outside.
“What were those things, do you know?” Anna asked.
“I think I do.”
“What?”
“I suspect,” he replied slowly, “that they are—were—incinerators.”
“Incinerators? Like for refuse disposal?”
“No.” He paused. “Like for disposing of human remains.”
Anna stopped in her tracks. “That’s creepy.”
“Maybe not. From a practical point of view at least,” replied Alejandro. “People die in hospitals. I suppose transporting the bodies of the dead to the mainland for burial would have been cumbersome. Much easier to have the deceased’s loved ones come to collect an urn bearing the ashes.”
“I suppose.” Alejandro’s explanation seemed logical, but the fact they’d just stumbled upon a crematorium left her feeling more than a little unsettled.
“Look.” Alejandro pointed past the next, and last, building in the complex. “There’s the trailer Falcone set up for us, beside the field.”
As they made their way past the last of the stone buildings, Anna noticed that this one, too, was covered in vines like the hospital, but it had a slightly different look, less institutional. The tall, narrow windows flanking both lengths of the building appeared gracious, and without reinforcements built into the glass. She stopped in front of a window and rubbed some of the yellow film from the dirty pane with her hand. Inside, she spied a dusty old desk and bookcases, still lined with books and other knick-knacks.
Alejandro had moved ahead of her and she hurried to catch up with him without investigating further. When they arrived at the construction trailer, which stood on the edge of a large field roughly marking the island’s center, Alejandro opened the door and the two of them stepped inside.
“Well, this is cozy,” he said.
“Yes, great,” Anna replied, looking around.
Indeed, Falcone had gone to great lengths to ensure they could work in comfort. A large desk and drafting table had been set up at the front end of the trailer, and the shelves were stocked with office supplies. A comfortable leather couch and a refrigerator, fully stocked with cold drinks, snacks and fruit took up the other half.
Alejandro opened the cupboard above the small fridge. “I see Falcone’s hospitality extends to liquor.” He held up a small bottle of cognac.
“That’s strange. You’d think he wouldn’t want us drinking on the job. But then, maybe it’s just the Italian way of doing things.”
Anna removed a pair of jeans, t-shirt and the sturdy boots she’d brought along from her bag. “I’m going to get started taking some photos for reference.” She grabbed her digital camera from her bag. “That’s probably all I’ll have time for before we have to leave today.”
“All right,” Alejandro said. “I’ll get set up for a preliminary survey. We’ll have more time tomorrow. Falcone’s arranged a boat for us at nine tomorrow morning, and for the next day as well.”
With only a few hours left before their return to the mainland, Anna was anxious to get going. They took turns using the trailer to change into their work clothes. Before they parted ways, she said, “If I don’t see you back here, I’ll meet you at the dock just before six-thirty.” She paused. “Be there on time—otherwise I leave, okay?” she said, in her best Romanian accent, mimicking the grumpy taxi driver.
Alejandro gave a hearty laugh. “Glad to see you’ve a sense of humor, Anna.”
“I do my best.” She grabbed an apple from the little refrigerator and headed out the door with her camera.
Chapter 10
Venice, Italy
1576
Isabella tried to open her eyes, but the effort it entailed seemed too great. She had a vague awareness that time had passed, but how many hours or days had gone by since she’d closed the door on her parents’ death chamber, she did not know. There was only the terrible agony that now wracked her body, and darkness. Her bones felt broken, the tiniest movement bringing with it excruciating pain. The open sores covering the inside of her parched throat made it difficult to swallow and each time she broke into a fit of coughing, she felt near to death.
She forced herself to open her swollen eyes and stare around her dark bedroom. The stench was terrible. She had soiled the bed several times, but there was nothing she could do about that. The mere thought of trying to get to her feet caused her eyes to close again. Slowly, her hand traveled to her groin, to check the lump which she’d noticed had begun to form on the inside of her thigh. Her fingers recoiled at the burning pain that resulted when she lightly brushed the boil, which she was alarmed to discover had grown to the size of an egg. The sickening odor that assailed her immediately afterward told her the boil had broken, a fact confirmed by the hot liquid running down her leg. She shivered uncontrollably with fever. Vomit rose suddenly to her throat and spewed from her chapped lips onto the already-encrusted bedding around her. Isabella floated on her bed of pain, certain she would not have to wait much longer for death to arrive.
More time passed. Minutes. Hours, maybe. No light entered the house through the bricked-up windows to help her gauge whether it was day or night. A sudden, loud noise caused her to snap awake. Pain shot through her sensitive eyes as she squinted in the bright light that unexpectedly flooded the room. As if from far away, she heard the sound of tinkling bells, and for a moment she wondered if she’d died and entered the afterlife, but the relentless pain still consuming her told her otherwise.