Coventina

by Jamie Antonia

  “Why did they approach you?”

  “Two members of their crew were abducted. We helped them find them.”

  “Were you successful?”

  “Yes we were.”

  Layla thought she saw a tear roll down Quintus’ cheek when she glanced up at the rear view mirror. “Hey, it can’t be much further at all,” she said.

  “It should be up on the right, there. That’s it,” Denise said.

  Layla turned into the driveway and past two light poles that had large yellow ribbons attached to them.

  “Remember Quintus, you are an investigator from Italy, just in case they speak Latin or Italian,” Denise said.

  “I will remain silent Denise.”

  They exited the car and made their way to the front door where Layla rang the bell.

  A blonde middle-aged woman opened the door. She had the appearance one might expect of a person who’d recently been put through hell.

  “Esther?” Denise said.

  “Yes.”

  “I am Denise, we spoke on the phone.”

  “Of course, won’t you please come in?”

  “This is Layla, a dear friend of mine and Quintus, who speaks little to no English. He is an investigator from Italy.”

  “Please be seated. Can I get you something, tea perhaps?”

  “No thank you, we’re good. We just had breakfast. Can you tell us all that you know?”

  Esther stood up and walked over to a cabinet, returning with a paper portfolio containing a large stack of papers in her hand. “My son James put this together for you. It gives you a physical copy to take with you of all we know, complete with their travel itinerary, recent images of her and Anna,” she said, weeping when she returned to her seat.

  Denise handed the packet to Layla who leafed through it. “So this was simply a vacation, to Rome only?” Layla asked.

  “Yes. Coventina and Anna are both artists. They were traveling there to see some of the world’s grandest art first hand. In addition, in a way, it was a return to a home away from home. She had traced our roots back to pre-Roman times and found that undoubtedly we had Roman ancestors.”

  Layla could see that Quintus was becoming very curious about the conversation, especially when he heard Esther mention Rome and Romans. Quintus, she is telling us that Coventina traced her ancestry back to pre-Roman days and that this family definitely has Roman ancestors.

  Layla, you communicate as our friends upstairs do. Thank you.

  “When was the last time you spoke with her?” Layla asked.

  “They called from Rome airport to let us know they made it there safely,” Esther said quietly.

  “Nothing after that?” Denise asked.

  “No.”

  “How did you come to believe that she was abducted?” Layla asked.

  “Police found their suitcases and one of their telephones on a street in Rome. Actually they said some honest citizen found them and turned them in to a police station.”

  “Do you have any contacts in Italy who have been working on this?” Denise said.

  “James put everything in that packet.”

  “May we see her room?” Layla asked.

  “Of course. This way please.”

  They were greeted by a painting on the wall when they entered the bedroom.

  “Did she paint this?” Denise asked.

  “Yes. It is a self portrait in oils,” Esther said. “She can speak Italian fluently.”

  Perhaps it will give her an edge, if her abductors are Italian or are speaking Italian. Layla said.

  If.

  “Do you have something of her’s that has not been laundered, something she wore or bed linens?” Layla asked.

  “Yes. I have not laundered anything since she left. Here. I am certain she wore this the day she was here packing for her trip,” Esther said, handing Layla a long deep red V-neck t-shirt.

  “May I take it with us?” Denise asked.

  “Yes, of course. Help yourself to anything that might help.”

  Layla pulled a sheet off the bed and gently wrapped the folded t-shirt in it.

  “Esther, did Coventina ever show evidence of an interest in the occult?”

  “No, not that I know of. She has always been able to finish my sentences when speaking if she chooses to. She jokingly used to say she was a witch when I asked her how she was able to do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

  I am if you are. Layla said.

  What are you thinking? Quintus asked.

  That with any luck we might be able to communicate with her like this, Denise said.

  Before leaving, they told Esther not to worry. “It just clutters your thinking and solves nothing,” Denise said.

  “I’ll try, but it’s not easy.”

  “I cannot promise you anything other than this. We will do everything in our power to try and find your loved ones. We’ve a personal reason to take a special interest in her disappearance.” Denise said.

  “Special interest?” Esther sighed.

  “Yes, very special indeed.”

  16

  Roman Column

  Lucilla watched the Mustang approach and park a short distance from where they were standing. Marcus and the others stood around the Roman Column reminiscing. When Lucilla explained to them that their Roman York was beneath the street somewhere, most found it hard to believe.

  “Where is Quintus?” Lucilla asked.

  “He asked to be dropped off at the hotel, so we made sure he got to the room okay,” Layla said.

  “Looks like all they need is a campfire and some wine,” Denise smiled, motioning to the legionnaires.

  “Did you have any luck today?”

  “Did not find out much more than we already knew, but the mother supplied us with all the information they have,” Layla said.

  “We want to press on to Rome immediately. There is no need for the others to rush along with us,” Denise said.

  “I think I had better stay with them for obvious reasons,” Lucilla smiled.

  “Yes, well you do seem to have a calming effect on them. I can’t imagine what they are all thinking and feeling being back, especially back here,” Layla said.

  “There is that, and the language barrier,” Denise grinned.

  “I think I am genuinely smitten by Marcus,” Lucilla said.

  “You might have some very important decisions to make in a few days then,” Denise said.

  “Indeed.”

  “How about the others? Any romantic nibbles today?” Layla asked.

  “Well, they are all very attractive to and attracted by women, but all are anxious to get to Rome.”

  “Quintus has already made arrangements with the friends upstairs to pick you all up and get you to Rome tomorrow. I take it you are okay traveling alone with them?” Denise said.

  “Very much so. Marcus will not let anything happen to me,” Lucilla smiled. “How are you going to get there?”

  “We’re driving,” Layla said.

  “And flying,” Denise added. They proceeded to quickly fill Lucilla in about all they did for and with the members of the Tyrine.”

  “Wow. I can understand now why these men were pointed in your direction,” Lucilla said.

  “Have you enough cash?” Denise asked.

  “More than enough, yes.”

  “I will let you know where we are staying once there,” Denise said.

  “So, it can actually fly?”

  “Yes Lucilla, and I must admit, Layla is quite the pilot.”

  “How long will it take you to get there?”

  “Five minutes, five hours, whatever we desire,” Layla laughed.

  “To think all of that was happening in Southern Illinois,” Lucilla laughed.

  “I think Makanda is the center of our universe,” Denise said.

  “Safe journey ladies.”

  “If there is anything you need you know
how to reach us,” Denise said.

  Just think it?

  That, or phone, Layla laughed.

  Or email, text, carrier pigeon, Denise smiled.

  “I am so happy I met you. I must reward my roommate in Carbondale one day for bringing us together.”

  “We’ll see you in Rome.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Oh yes, our room is still paid for until tomorrow if any of the boys need some privacy,” Layla said.

  “You never know, thanks again.”

  Denise and Layla returned to the Mustang and drove off, disappearing around a curve in the narrow street.

  “Where is Quintus?” Marcus asked.

  “Uhm, he had a rather sleepless night so he asked to be dropped off at the hotel to rest and make arrangements for our transportation tomorrow.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Rome.”

  “Rome? Really?”

  “Yes. Now before we make our way back to the hotel I would like to take some pictures of all of you standing by that incredibly impressive column.”

  “Is this good?” Marcus asked, standing in the middle with two men on each side.

  “Yes, but some smiles would be nice,” Lucilla said.

  “Men, guess where we are going tomorrow?” Marcus asked.

  “Upstairs?” Lucius asked.

  “Yes, but just for a ride to our destination.”

  “And what might that be?” Venutius said.

  “Rome.”

  Lucilla’s shutter clicked recording images of five happy looking men.

  “Rome,” she sighed quietly before walking over to the men to snap an image of her standing with them, in front of a twenty two foot tall Roman Column, over the very site they started their journey so very long ago.

  17

  Via Della Magliana

  It was still daylight when the Mustang touched down on Via Delle Ildrovore Della Magliana. The clear graying sky above reached out to the orange sunset as Layla brought them out of stealth mode before they exited the car.

  “Look at this place. This all happened in broad daylight and only one person saw their possessions being discarded?” Layla said.

  “Apparently,” Denise said. “It was someone from that office building right over there.”

  “They saw them get tossed here, into this weeded area?”

  “So the story goes. The taxi, they said, looked full, with four passengers in the back seat. Two men and two women.”

  “Then they had to stop somewhere along the way to pick up the other men by this point.”

  “They picked them up right here on this off road,” Denise said.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I’ve seen it happen. Once you touched down. The white taxi continued down this road after stopping quickly to dump their luggage. They must have thought no one would see them here because of those trees.”

  “That, or they simply did not give a shit if they were seen. These are not going to be nice people if we ever catch up to them,” Layla said.

  “If?”

  “Okay, when we catch up to them.”

  “That’s it, think positive.”

  “Come on, let’s continue up this drive a ways before it gets dark,” Layla suggested.

  “This is just an industrial looking area.”

  “We may not speak the language, but it looks seedy and like a great area to avoid if you are a tourist, especially a woman,” Layla said.

  “Wait, stop,” Denise said. “We don’t have much daylight remaining. Turn left here.”

  Layla proceeded down a drive that was lined with covered fences that would block the view of anyone working in the buildings behind them.

  “They changed vehicles here. They rushed them into a black mini van with dark windows. They were bound and gagged by this time,” Denise said.

  “Shall I continue up this drive?” Layla asked, stopping the car.

  “No, let’s get out of here and go find a hotel.”

  Layla spun the Mustang around and headed back the way they came, and then out on the Via Della Magliana that would take them to an assortment of other roads leading to the heart of Rome.

  “There are no roads straight to anything here,” Denise giggled. “It’s not like Carbondale or Chicago. Let’s stay at the Best Western President Hotel. It is closest to all the ancient sites. Give the lads an easy chance to mingle for mates.”

  “Mingle for mates? Haaaaa.”

  “Yes. You must admit this is beyond impressive.”

  “Indeed it is. I am ready for some food and a nice hot shower,” Layla said.

  “I say we book rooms for us and tomorrow’s guests. Park this baby. Put it in ‘If you try to steal me you got to be kidding’ mode, and take a taxi to eat.”

  “Perfect. Maybe we’ll be lucky enough to get a driver who speaks English and knows where all the pimps and lowlifes hang out.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Denise laughed.

  They checked in to the Best Western Hotel, reserving rooms with the same configuration they had in York. “If any of them finds a nice girl they want to, you know, have some privacy with, we’ll get them their own room,” Denise said.

  “Honey. They were warriors. Conquerors. Raping and pillaging was something they refined to an art form,” Layla laughed. “I’m pretty sure they might not care about getting it on in from of buddies after not having a woman for so long.”

  “I never thought about it that way. Come on. The parking lot is not in this building.”

  They parked the Mustang in the lot and set the security system on it nearly to maximum.

  “Okay, you hail a taxi for us,” Layla said.

  “You mean cause I am like from a big city?”

  “I’ve never taken a taxi.”

  “Seriously? This is a first for you, and an first for you in Rome?”

  “I’m kind of a hick,” Layla laughed.

  Denise planted a kiss on her cheek. “I love hicks.”

  “Hey, let’s be a couple of dudes for the ride.”

  “Good idea.”

  They activated the medallions allowing them to change their appearance that the crew of the Tyrine left with them. In an instant each of them was looking at a very handsome male with black hair.

  “Whattaya say we go get us something to eat then go look for some whores?” Layla said.

  Denise could not stop laughing. “Sounds good to me,” she managed to get out between laughs. She hailed a taxi and they got in.

  “Just somewhere for some good pasta,” Denise said.

  “There is a place near here. La Carbonara. Excellent food. Been here forever and they don’t try to rip off tourists,” the driver said.

  “Sounds good,” Denise said.

  “I heard it is easy to find a prostitute in Rome,” Layla said, cutting to the chase.

  “Harry, prostitution is illegal, you know that,” Denise said.

  “Yes Dick, I know but a guy can dream can’t he?” Layla smiled.

  Dick. My name is Dick? Denise said.

  Goes well with Harry don’t you think?

  Harry Dick. Dear Goddess.

  “Well we don’t have Attenzione Prostitute warning signs here in Rome, but every taxi driver knows where the prostitutes are.”

  “You speak great English. What’s your name?” Denise asked.

  “I am Paulo Dick,” he answered.

  “Can you spin us by a few areas where they hang out before we go to eat?” Denise asked.

  “If you wish. Many will be out now that it is dark.”

  Before we eat? Layla sighed.

  It’s just a spin.

  Paulo drove them through a few areas where the streets were crowded with ladies of the night looking for business.

  “It is painful to see the state that many of these women are in,” Paulo said.

  “Yeah. Some of them look like they could kick my ass,” Layla laughed.

  I doubt it.
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  “Where can you go find a woman off the street? Are there any brothels or upper crust bordellos?” Denise asked.

  “Of course. Every major city in the world has them Dick.”

  “You don’t have to show us but could you tell us where some of them are for another day?”

  “We’ll make it worth your while,” Layla said, holding up a hundred dollar bill.

  Paulo pulled over to the curb and opened his glove box for something to write on. “If you ask the women on the street they won’t tell you, they want your business and your money.” These are the six best bordellos in Rome. They are safe, to customers at least from what I have heard, but a few are apparently not nice to the women working there, all of whom are very attractive and appear to be from all over the world.”

  “Could you put an X next to those please?” Denise said.

  “Yes I can Dick, but they may not like clients getting rough with the girls.”

  Layla rolled the window down for more fresh air. “What about those girls up ahead, are they working?”

  “Harry, if you see a woman standing around and smiling or lifting her skirt or even dressed as they are, they are working. Be careful though when around the girls on the street.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The men who control them and exploit them for the money they earn is why. Many of them are ruthless, most not Italian at all but from assorted Eastern European shit holes.”

  “I see.”

  “Here you are Dick,” Paulo said, handing the list to Denise. “Have you seen enough gentlemen?”

  “Yes Paulo, please take us to the restaurant if you would?” Denise said.

  When they slowly passed the second group of women up the dark street, Layla watched as a man slapped one of the women so hard she fell to the ground. “Hey, leave her alone!” she shouted out the window. Paulo slowed the car nearly to a stop when he heard her shout thinking something was wrong. The man who struck the woman turned to see who shouted. He took a pistol out of his coat pocket and began speaking to her loudly in Italian.

  “What the hell is that guy saying?” Layla asked.

  “He is saying to mind your own fucking business or he will blow your nose off,” Paulo said. “We should leave.”

  “Okay Paulo, to the restaurant,” Layla said. As he pulled away Layla put her arm out the window and sent the man flying into a parked car with such force he collapsed on the ground moaning in pain.

  Blow my nose off hey?

  Let’s go eat a good dinner. I have a feeling you are going to see a lot of faces belonging to assholes you want to smash before this is over.