Surviving Venice

by Anna E Bendewald

  While questioning their captive, they’d done everything short of permanently maiming him, but he’d refused to tell them anything beyond how he’d come to Iceland. Their guess was that he’d undergone considerable training on secrecy, the sort of conditioning that high-level spies had access to.

  On top of that, two days after becoming their prisoner Spratman came down with a cold that worsened every day until it became evident he was suffering from severe bronchitis. Even in delirium, he’d given them absolutely nothing. So, during the first weeks of January they put his dislocated fingers, shoulder, and elbow back into place and acted like nursemaids to Spratman in their basement storeroom. Yvania had gotten regular updates, but nothing of use—namely who else was in on Salvio’s plot and how they could call off the order to kill Giselle.

  Giselle pulled the collar of her coat up to shield her neck from the strong winter wind that howled through the forest as she walked down to the livestock area in search of Markus. She found him and Daniel inside the heated goat barn. They gave her questioning looks.

  “I didn’t want to be alone. I’ve come to see if you can cheer me up,” she said while scuffing the toe of a boot in the sawdust and straw.

  Daniel led the smallest kid over to her and smiled when it stood on its hind legs, placing both front hooves on her thighs. “Go ahead,” he said. “We’ve just laid down fresh straw. You know you want to. Get down there and let them roll around with you. It’s the only thing that seems to chase your blues away anymore.”

  Giselle sank down onto her knees and pulled the youngster toward her, giggling when it began nuzzling her ear and trying to climb her. She gave up and laid down, which caused a scramble of kids climbing on her and trying to nuzzle under her shirt in search of milk. The billy from the corner corral made a desultory “Muu-aah” sound then fell silent. He wouldn’t start making that odd human screaming sound unless she upset the kids.

  Markus stood over Giselle, looking content. “I know it is difficult for you with no dangerous art project, but…”

  “Right!” She scooped up the smallest kid to save it from being stepped on by its buddies. “I need more work as a distraction.”

  “I spoke to Yvania about your blue moods, and she believes that embarking on one of your sculptures may not help you.”

  “Oh? Is that what she said? Based on what?”

  “Yvania says that you are at the mercy of your hormones right now. Prepartum or antenatal depression is quite common.”

  “Really? Isn’t it supposed to be the most contented, blissful time in a woman’s life?” she scoffed.

  Daniel came down onto his knees next to her and started curry-combing muck off the hindquarters of a black-spotted kid. “I don’t know what you’re supposed to be feeling during pregnancy, but you’re stuck here away from your friends, excluded from Gabrieli’s funeral, and shut off temporarily from the Veronas. You haven’t been able to proceed with an annulment or get married, and your body must feel strange as it grows new life inside and changes shape on the outside. It’s no wonder you’re feeling…off.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, I’m quite a good sport, aren’t I?”

  Markus lay down next to her and moved a kid out of the way so he could give her a kiss. “You are a good sport and we are not going anywhere until the police have gotten to the bottom of this case.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll start at least dreaming up my next sculpture and sketch some plans for it.”

  “Great idea,” Daniel said. “No one can get hurt from a drawing. I’ll get you some nice charcoals and paper next time I’m in town.”

  “Now that I think of it, I keep seeing something in the same way my other ideas come to me. It’s two figures one behind the other locked together being sucked into a dark tunnel,” she said as she wrestled free of a kid who’d been standing on her hair. She didn’t miss the worried look the men exchanged.

  Mateo sat at the kitchen table looking at his phone. He hadn’t heard anything from Benjamin since he’d promised to call from Reykjavik. That had been three weeks ago. Things had been so clear last fall when Salvio had struck a blow for the Alithiníans, going for the pope’s heart, the Verona family. Mateo, Benjamin, Rajim, Carlos, and the rest of the faithful had gone onto high alert waiting for a signal from Salvio, but he’d preferred to topple the Vatican alone.

  Finally, they’d jumped into action and given Salvio shelter. Meeting him for the first time had been electrifying, and the feeling of being so close to the divine son of Sinope had been almost intoxicating. It was their time, they would cure the ills of the world, and nothing could stop them. Or so they’d thought.

  Since then, Rome had picked them off one by one, and Mateo had been forced to banish Nejla to Castine for safekeeping. Without their orator, Venice felt eerie now. The faithful still worshipped in the little secret temple under the safe house, but it felt like a version of the Ten Little Indians. One little Indian went off to Iceland and got himself iced, he thought.

  He got up to make himself some espresso. I don’t need anyone to complete our plan, I can do this.

  Raphielli sat at the breakfast table with Paloma and Alphonso. She felt emotional, so she just nibbled instead of eating with her usual gusto.

  Zelph arrived and asked, “Can I join the breakfast club?”

  “Of course, you know you’re always invited,” Raphielli answered. “Paloma, pull that cord next to you.”

  When Rosa appeared, Raphielli said, “Bring a setting for Zelph and fresh coffee.” She turned back to Zelph. “What’s the latest on construction?”

  “Things are moving along. Ghost and Mister Fox have me up at ungodly hours. I’ll eat with you all this week if that’s okay.” Zelph’s eyes lit up as a plate was put before him, and he dug into the cherry crepes and creamed pineapple polenta.

  Dante arrived with Genero Tosca on his heels. “Signora, Signor Tosca begs your indulgence.”

  She stopped pushing the food around on her plate. “What is it?”

  Tosca looked upset. “Raphielli, I apologize for barging in. But…we should speak privately.”

  “There’s nothing these people can’t hear.”

  He shrugged before plunging ahead. “The Catholic Church has just frozen every permit I applied for on your behalf. They’re threatening to sue my builders for altering an historic structure.”

  “The Church? Why?” she asked.

  Tosca looked uncomfortable and buttoned his lips together.

  Alphonso cocked his head. “Do you know why?”

  Tosca made a little movement with his fingers, rubbing them together.

  “Money?” Paloma guessed.

  “I’ll pay for my permits,” Raphielli said. “That’s not why you’re so upset, is it?”

  Paloma said, “Ooh, let me guess again since I got the last one right. Do they disapprove of her shelter plans? Like they want Raphielli to make a home for nuns instead?”

  He shook his head.

  Zelph’s face became expressionless. “They’re asking your office for an unheard-of sum of money,” he said flatly.

  Tosca’s eyes flew open in surprise.

  “I’m guessing it’s like a hundred thousand euros,” Zelph continued.

  Tosca scratched his nose pointing his index finger up.

  “Five hundred thousand?”

  Again, Tosca’s nose itched.

  “A million?” Zelph’s eyes were narrowing.

  Again, Tosca’s nose itched.

  “This is total bullshit!” Zelph thundered. “They don’t own this property! That’s the sole owner.” He pointed at Raphielli. “And she can do anything she likes with her home! She could open a museum to house Giselle’s sculptures that launch blow darts at visitors if she wants.”

  Raphielli held up her hand. “I’m not worried. My father confessor has all the power he needs to put a stop to this…”

  “Extortion,” Alphonso said, putting his napkin down. She could see the muscles in his
jaw tensing.

  “Cardinal Negrali must be here by now,” she said.

  Tosca startled, dropped his hat, picked it up, and then ducked behind the door, hiding.

  Zelph reached for his coffee. “Well, well, well. Now we see more gangsters circling.” He looked at Alphonso. “Remember what the don said to Salvio inside the temple? That he was up against the big baddies. He was looking at Americo Negrali when he said that.”

  Raphielli got up from the table and went to Tosca. “Dante would never let him in here. He’ll put him in the room where we pray together. Now, you don’t have a thing to worry about. You didn’t say anything to us other than notifying me that my permits are on hold. You can leave with Zelph and Paloma, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Paloma and Zelph dropped their napkins and headed out the door after Tosca, who was hightailing it out of sight. Raphielli made her way to the receiving room for her prayer session, and the cardinal rose looking happy to see her. “My dear child. How are you on this stormy day?”

  “Padre, I’m glad to see you.”

  Now he was beaming at her.

  “There is something you can help me with, I believe,” she said.

  He leaned forward. “If I can.”

  “My palazzo renovation permits have hit some beaurocratic snag. Can the church help?”

  “Of course. I mean, with the recent scandals involving crimes against vulnerable women and children, the church should partner, even manage this endeavor for you. Oversight can be cumbersome, but I would personally manage things for you.”

  “I won’t need that. Overseeing my current shelter’s creation gave me a real sense of purpose, and I want to do it again here.”

  “But this is much bigger,” he said with a dark expression. “I’ll get this larger project rolling for you. I’ll get the permits granted, and you can open a line of credit so I can draw the necessary funds.”

  “I can meet with Vincenzo today to see what that would entail.”

  “Oh, surely there’s no need to involve him. His expertise is investments, not this sort of thing. Just call one of your banks and grant me authority. Speaking of Vincenzo, I haven’t seen much of him…since that night in the temple. What did you make of Salvio referring to him as a ‘faggot’?”

  She played dumb. “I didn’t hear anything like that.”

  “You know, if Vincenzo has strayed outside his marriage with a man, it is a grave sin, one that the Vatican has historically punished by death. We are rolling back those so-called church reforms, so I must know. He would be…condemned.”

  She felt nauseous. I can’t even pretend to pray with this traitor! Not just after my money, but trying to persecute Vincenzo? I feel so used…so stupid…I feel sick…

  He motioned to the floor in front of her. “Shall we pray?”

  “Padre, I suddenly feel unwell. I need to lie down, perhaps go back to bed.”

  “Of course. You are only a girl after all, and these large matters are too much for you. Take to your bed. That’ll do you good.”

  After Dante had escorted the cardinal out, she looked down the hall and called softly, “Alphonso?”

  He came out of the shadows. “I heard the whole thing.”

  “I need to find Vincenzo. But I don’t want Cardinal Negrali to see me leave.”

  “Let’s try to find Ghost or Mister Fox…one of them is the video technician.”

  “Fox is audio.” A feminine voice with a heavy Greek accent came from around the corner. “I’m video.” A woman wearing a black cap with silver ringlet curls escaping from it stepped out of the shadows.

  “Are you Ghost?”

  “My real name’s Athena, but since I aim for invisibility on the job, everyone calls me Ghost.”

  “And Fox is a ‘Mister’ so, American?”

  “Yep, through and through. He’s from Chicago.”

  “You already know who we are,” Alphonso said.

  She nodded and searched Alphonso’s face. “If I just looked at you on a security screen, I’d swear you were Zelph. But you’re Alphonso, his private-eye cousin. Si, I’ve seen you and Raphielli around the palazzo.” A smile drew up one corner of her mouth.

  Raphielli said, “Can any of your cameras tell us where Cardinal Negrali just went when he left here?”

  Ghost produced a cell phone, swiped her finger and tapped the screen a few times, then held it up for them to see. “He’s that red blur moving past the bench on the other side of the canal out front.”

  “What about Zelph, Paloma, and Tosca?”

  Two taps on her phone and she held it up. “They’re gone. Here’s a replay of them leaving the cloakroom and exiting the front door while you were in with the cardinal.”

  “Impressive,” Raphielli said. She took hold of Alphonso’s arm and was about to walk away when she remembered her manners. “Pleased to meet you Gho…er…Athena.”

  “Ghost is fine.”

  “You don’t have any surveillance hookups in my bedroom suite, do you?”

  “No, just a camera in the entryway by the fountain.”

  “Who monitors those cameras?”

  “After hearing that Salvio got inside a while back, I’ve put my most trusted team on your monitors in shifts. But most of the system won’t be up until after the New Year, and a bit later in the new construction zone.”

  “You’ve been a big help,” Raphielli said and turned to Alphonso. “I’ve got to talk to Vincenzo right away.” They left in search of him.

  At the Verona’s palazzo they sat down with Juliette and Vincenzo, and Raphielli told them about Negrali, ending with, “What do I do?”

  Juliette had been watching her intently and got up, came to Raphielli’s side, and brushed a curly lock of hair from Raphielli’s eyes. “My dear, no one is going to take advantage of you. You have us. Veronas and Scortinis do not get pushed around, especially when they stick together.”

  Vincenzo leaned forward. “You’re a good friend for keeping my secret. If Tosca’s correct and Negrali is trying to use the Catholic Church to extort you, I’m sure Pope Leopold will release your permits.”

  “Now you must trust us with your secret.” Juliette put a finger under Raphielli’s chin and searched her eyes. “When were you going to tell me that you are expecting?”

  Raphielli stared at Juliette thinking she’d misheard, but the expression that met her back was serious. “Expecting what?”

  “Your child.”

  Raphielli didn’t know if she should be incensed. “What do you mean?” She threw a panicked look at Alphonso, whose eyes widened.

  “You are pregnant. You have the hormonal eyes,” Juliette declared.

  “No. I’m infertile. I can’t and I…” Her mind whirled with possibilities of Gio and Alphonso.

  “You are. And Romeo here is the father?”

  Alphonso moved closer and took her hand. “I am.”

  “Ah, Romeo.” Juliette looked genuinely pleased and turned back to Raphielli. “He will make you an excellent husband.”

  “You aren’t going to judge me? Us?” Raphielli felt hot embarrassment.

  “Maybe a few weeks ago. But now? No.”

  Vincenzo spoke up. “Mama, when you take Gina to see Doctor Gugliemoni today, can you take Raphielli?”

  Raphielli bristled hearing Gina’s name, then pushed away the jealous fantasy she’d entertained of Gina as Alphonso’s lover. “Gina may be pregnant?”

  Juliette smiled. “That is our hope, but too early to show in her eyes yet. I am taking her for a test today. I will bring you, too. My doctor is the best in all of Venice. He fought to save my babies and succeeded in saving Vincenzo.”

  Raphielli turned to Vincenzo. “Does Leonardo know?”

  “He’s part of the endeavor and waiting on pins and needles for the test.”

  Alphonso asked her, “Would you like me to go with you?”

  “No, grazie. I’ll go with them, but I don’t need an entourage. Juliette can’t be right a
bout me.”

  A short time later, Raphielli sat in the doctor’s office feeling dumpy next to Juliette in all her royal glory and the impossibly chic, upright, and composed Gina as the doctor read the results of their urine tests. “You’re both pregnant.”

  She felt an unfamiliar blend of emotions: pride that her uterus wasn’t a dud, fear that it could be Gio’s child, strangely in tune with her queasiness, and a shimmery little thrill of motherhood. But the doctor’s next words brought her back to reality with a clunk.

  “What a blessing that your late husband, Salvio, lives on.”

  He said it with such genuine warmth that she couldn’t tell him the truth. My baby isn’t a Scortini. It’ll either have incredible Sicilian eyes or be a giant. I’m a loose woman!

  “I see both of you have left the name of the fathers off your paperwork,” he said as he regarded Gina, who nodded with a curt swish of her glossy bob. The doctor looked to Juliette, whose expression of maternal pride was so obvious that his brows slid up to where his hairline would have been if it hadn’t receded. “Oh. I see. Juliette, will you be helping her then?”

  “Consider Gina a Verona. I will sign paperwork to that effect.”

  “Very well. There is the matter of a last name for the father.”

  Juliette patted Gina’s hand and said, “Verona.”

  “I see.” He now turned to include Raphieli. “If you will both follow the nurse to the lab for your blood draw and your first shot of prenatal vitamins before we get on with the physical exams and ultrasounds.”

  Gina straightened up, and Raphielli was surprised her erect posture could get even straighter. “No shots for me, grazie.” She looked at Juliette. “My diet is sufficient, and I’ve been taking those vitamin treatments.”