Surviving Venice

by Anna E Bendewald

  He hugged her fiercely and whispered into her ear, “I’m hurting so bad right now, I can’t tell you. But I love you and our child so much…let’s not make any rash decisions.” With a final squeeze, he let go of her and walked away.

  She watched him disappear around the big fountain with the sick feeling that she’d experienced the last of his affection. For all his earthiness, he was a very pious man. Had it only been this fall when she laid in bed so desperate to have him visit her and reassure her while she communicated via notepad? Now he’d probably take a detective job and start going out a lot more. She focused on the tasks at hand.

  Raphielli held up a finger to Paloma. “I need to send Marilynn a quick text about the traffic jam out front, then I’m all yours.” She tapped away.

  “Have you seen it? Poseidon’s head is the size of a house. It rises out of the water, and the eyes move! They look real! And the tines of his trident come up, too!”

  “Sì, I wish we could keep it, but it blocks traffic when it surfaces. Have you seen Benny anywhere?”

  “Uh-huh. I passed her, the pope, and his security heading off for their usual worshipful splash-about in the temple I hear you guys whispering about.”

  Raphielli tensed. “What do you know about that?”

  “Nothing, actually. Don’t worry. I don’t need to know everything. How’re you feeling?”

  “Great.” She patted her spearmint patch. “Thanks to professor Gina, no more nausea. And with a little luck, I won’t start sprouting hair on my belly.”

  Paloma opened her folio and made a face. “Uh-well, that’s good. Now let’s get started. Miriam is our top candidate for head nanny at the new shelter, but Dante likes her for your baby’s nanny here in the residence…your private nanny. She worked at an orphanage in Switzerland and the top administrator I spoke to couldn’t say enough good things about her.”

  When they’d finished reviewing candidates, they went to find Dante, who was in the next wing. They retrieved their jackets from the cloakroom and went outside past the entertainment wing’s entrance. Out of nowhere, a man latched onto Paloma’s arm, causing her to juggle her device and folio.

  “Milos!” She yelped. “Get the away from me!”

  “You fucking bitch, you’d better drop this lawsuit.” He enunciated every word. “If you tell anybody that I hit you, I’ll break every bone in your body, starting with your face.”

  “I’m telling my lawyer about this!” Paloma wrenched her arm away, and Raphielli threw her arms protectively around her as they pressed themselves against an outer wall of the palazzo.

  “Paloma, are you hurt?” It was Gio’s voice. Primo was suddenly leaning into Milos with a gun pressed to his neck. The Petrosinos had the brute sandwiched.

  “I’m not hurt, he was just threatening me,” she said.

  “I heard.” Gio’s tone was ominous. “Milos, do you know me?”

  Milos’ eyes strained sideways to look at him. “Sì, Petrosino. You were on trial this summer.”

  “Paloma has become very dear to me, like a sister.”

  “Why the…”

  “Stop talking. You make me angry when you talk. You need to listen. You’re going to go to jail like a man. At your trial, you’re going to own up to every single thing you did to Paloma. You’re not going to try to defend yourself or intimidate her in any way. You listening?”

  “But…”

  “If you don’t do what I say, I’ll end you in a very ugly and painful fashion. A fitting end for a man who stomped his own woman and unborn child. If you want to find out what I have in mind, just shoot her a dirty look. You’ll find out.”

  “Do my whole sentence?” Milos wheedled.

  “You stay in jail as long as the judge wants you to. And when you come out, you move as far away from Paloma as you can manage. Relocate to the other side of the planet and stay there. Capisce?”

  “Sì, inteso.”

  Primo put his gun in his pocket and took one of Raphielli’s arms while Gio took the other, scooped an arm around Paloma, and said, “Milos, go find your lawyer and plead guilty right now.”

  Milos walked away unsteadily.

  Raphielli turned to Gio. God, he smelled good. “Grazie.”

  “Prego. Now, where were you ladies off to?” he asked brightly.

  “Heading over to the next wing to see Dante.” Just then Raphielli’s phone pinged and she looked down at the text from Kate:

  DETECTIVE LAMPANI SUFFERED BRAIN ANEURYSM!

  HE’S IN HOSPITAL!

  “Oh! Dio mio!” She showed them her phone screen. “I have to go to him! I have to get Benny! She’s in the temple!”

  “Primo, get Drea over here,” Gio said. “Now, don’t worry unnecessarily. Brains are tricky to diagnose, maybe he just dropped from exhaustion. Get Benny, throw a disguise on her, and we’ll take you to the hospital.”

  Raphielli felt tears hot on her cheeks as she hurried back to her door. My secrets have killed this good man. For months he’s begged me to be honest, but I lied and lied. Come to think of it, I haven’t even been truthful in confession for months now. Who have I become? A murderer!

  Mateo had spent the last hour making the case to Noah that the Veronas needed to die so that the Catholic church could implode. It was God’s will that Noah’s sterling reputation had gotten him hired by them. The conversation had been going well until Noah stood up and said, “I’ve got to leave now if I’m going to be on time for my shift. I’m absolutely clear that the Veronas are devout Catholics and that Salvio, God rest his soul, saw them as a threat, but I won’t do anything to harm them. If you need to know their location or something, I’ll tell you. But that’s as far as I’ll go.”

  Now Mateo sat in his kitchen thinking about his next step. Doctor G had been found murdered, and something terrible must have happened to Benjamin. He didn’t want to be on his own, but after striking out with Noah, it was time to reprioritize. He couldn’t do it all. He’d have to postpone the plan to kill the Veronas and focus solely on getting Salvio’s children.

  He felt in his bones that Benedetta must be pregnant, and while he didn’t know where she was, he felt certain that Raphielli did. It only made sense. The girl wasn’t at the shelter, but of course, two women who were bearing special children would band together. He had to get his hands on Raphielli and make her tell him where Benedetta was.

  All of Venice was abuzz with conjecture about the season’s final Carnevale ball, which was Raphielli’s debut as a party-throwing hostess on what was rumored to be an epic scale. He’d heard that the mayor’s wife, Elene Buonocore, was responsible for the invitations. He’d served with Elene on the Water Preservation Society’s board for more than five years, and while they only socialized when that society came together, she was always very friendly with him, pleasantly flirtatious. He grabbed his phone and called her.

  “Mateo! How are you, dear?” She sounded pleased to hear from him. “Congratulations on getting the MOSE project hearings televised.”

  “Oh, you know, the more the public knows about saving the lagoon, the greater the pressure to prevail.”

  “I agree. What can I do for you, dear?”

  “I heard a rumor that you’re helping Raphielli Scortini with her ball.”

  “Just helping with the guest list. I do what I can. She doesn’t know many people, but I’m about to change that. I’m filling her party with fun new friends.”

  “I’m fun.”

  “That you are! I was short on eligible bachelors. Consider your invitation in the mail. It’ll be coming with a costume, so be sure to wear it. Ooh! I’m so glad you’re coming. You must save a dance for me. Remember our Society’s party at that Moroccan place?”

  “Are you going to belly dance again?”

  “Attempt to belly dance,” she said, and then giggled delightedly.

  “Raphielli is a big deal now. Will the other big family be attending?”

  “The Veronas? Juliette RSVP’d, and if Vin
cenzo and Giselle are in town they’ll come, I’m sure. They can always be counted on to make a splash.”

  His heart hammered at the thought of getting a crack at Giselle, but he forced himself to stay focused on Raphielli. “What can you tell me about the ball?”

  “It’s a masked affair. The party planner is Marilynn Bergoni, and it’s going to be a spectacle inside a big theatre in a wing with its own entrance, so guests won’t get to set foot inside Raphielli’s private home. The venue has lots of levels all stacked, so like a good nightclub you’ll be able to move around to find the action. Um, what else? It’s a Poseidon theme with fireworks and a DJ from Sri Lanka. Um, let’s see…great food, and a big ship just docked in the lagoon to unload plenty of liquor for the party. Oh! That’s my other line, must jump. See you at the ball, dear.”

  “Can I bring a boat?”

  “No mooring anywhere near Scortini Palazzo during the ball, they have too much going on. And she’s got something against carri di carnevale, so no show boats. Absolutely refused to consider them. Ciao.”

  Mateo decided to keep it simple. He didn’t dare try to smuggle a bottle of chloroform into the ball, so he’d have to improvise, maybe a presoaked cloth in a zip bag. As for the Veronas, he hated to miss an opportunity, and he had some poison he could slip into one of the Veronas’ drinks, but only if an opportunity arose that was so foolproof he couldn’t pass it up. He’d be on the lookout for Giselle.

  But perfect opportunity aside, he wasn’t leaving that ball without Raphielli. He’d get her out to the Verona’s boat—they were always the exception to any rule—there was no way the first family would be forced to walk. Everywhere mooring was forbidden, the Veronas were welcome to dock. Noah would be waiting in their boat, and while he drew the line at harming a Verona, Mateo felt sure he could get him to borrow their boat for something as important as getting one of the Madonnas of Sinope back to the safe house. Mateo would make Raphielli tell him where Benedetta was, and if it came to it, trade Raphielli for Benedetta. Then he’d take the girl to Nautilus Island.

  Hiero was sitting at his desk when a light on the secure relay switchboard next to his desk started blinking. He hoped it was one of the operatives he’d sent to France calling to report that their job was complete. Picking up the phone he said, “Cellular service, what is your account number?”

  “Sixty-eight eleven seventy-one, N as in nada.”

  It was Negrali calling on a secure line. Karno’s voice changed to his usual flat delivery. “Pronto.”

  “I want you to tell me that you’ll be here to kill the Veronas and Raphielli tonight!”

  “Where are my paintings?”

  “I stashed them in my apartment in Rome. They’re safe. You need to move now! Everything is going sideways! And to make matters worse, the entire Veneto is anonymous! They’re all wearing masks!”

  “We don’t do anything in a rush, and masks don’t affect our operations. I’ve succeeded in getting men inside both the Veronas’ and Raphielli’s palazzos. They’ll strike when they can get away with it, and not before. They’ve got another device to blow up a Verona or two in their boat. If they can do it during Raphielli’s ball tomorrow night they will, but otherwise they can strike when the Veronas and Raphielli are asleep. Now bring me my paintings,” he said and hung up on the pompous ass. The nerve of him, holding those paintings just out of Hiero’s grasp and yelling, “Kill! Kill!” like he was a trained attack dog. Negrali was going to be a nightmare as pope.

  Luigi opened his eyes and looked around a strange hospital room. The digital clock on the wall of his private room said four o’clock PM. He recalled an explosion had gone off in his head. It felt like being hit with a shotgun blast, and then everything went black. Right now, he didn’t feel any pain and felt miraculously well-rested.

  Someone was holding his hand and he looked sideways. Benny and Raphielli were kneeling at the side of his bed. Benny was praying, barely recognizable in a disguise, and Raphielli was whispering fervently with her hands clasped and her eyes closed.

  “I didn’t mean to kill you. Please forgive me. I never meant to cause you so much stress. Dio, please don’t let him die. I’ll tell him everything if you save this good man.”

  “Grazie,” he croaked, his mouth parched. “Start talking.”

  Raphielli jumped up, her face smeared with tears, and threw herself across him in a hug. “Grazie a Dio! Where do I start? Um, I believe Salvio killed Reynaldo, and uh…” she stammered as Benny pushed Raphielli off him, placed a glass of water in his hand, and pressed a button on the hospital bed to raise his upper body into a sitting position.

  “Forget the stuff I know. Who killed Salvio?” he said and took a sip.

  “Gio…Giancarlo Petrosino…who also may be the father of my baby…I’m pregnant.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “Woo-ho-kay.”

  “Gio was trying to keep Salvio from killing me. He kidnapped him and held him in Palermo.”

  “Salvio didn’t go on a religious quest?”

  “No.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said. “Then Salvio came back, hung you, went on his first rampage, and Lydia was helping him?”

  “I don’t know anything about that.” She looked desperate.

  “No, it wasn’t like that,” Benny spoke up.

  They both looked at Benny. “We were waiting for a Scortini to lead us against the Vatican, but peaceful, like always. It wasn’t until you brought Salvio to the hospital a few weeks after that rampage that some people in our church—my parents, Ben, Carlos, Matt, Rajim, and Lydia—went off the deep end. They started helping him, and Lydia got herself moved to your department to keep an eye on you. Monitor the case you had against Salvio.”

  Luigi looked back at Raphielli. “What was going on at your home the night Salvio was shot? You were lying to me.”

  “Salvio had found us in the Scortini temple and escaped through this suction valve…”

  “The scivolo,” Benny said helpfully.

  “But the temple is a secret.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  Benny was holding his shoulder. “I’m an Alithinían, and the Vatican has been hunting us. We worship in secret. Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “You worship Salvio?”

  “No, we follow the teachings of Jesus. We worship God. But the pope is no longer against us, he’s been worshipping with me every day in the Scortini Temple.”

  “You’re Christians, eh? What’s the deal with your shiny black shoes?”

  “It reminds us of standing in water.”

  “Like baptism?”

  “Very much like that.”

  He turned to Raphielli. “Is your Cardinal Negrali happy about the pope’s change of heart?”

  “He doesn’t know. He hates the Alithiníans. Cardinal Negrali has attached himself to me—trying to get my estate. I think he’d like to get me out of the way.”

  “Salvio sure wanted you out of the way. And his hit men, Rajim and the rest, they certainly had orders to either kill anyone necessary while kidnapping you, or kill you themselves.”

  “They killed enough of my staff trying,” Raphielli said.

  He set his water aside. “Salvio smashed Vincenzo’s head in, killed Gabrieli, and they were looking to kill Giselle, too. Where do the Veronas come in? And what about Nejla? Why’d she go to Maine?”

  Benny leaned forward almost frantic. “Veronas can influence people, their family is born to support the pope and, uh, fix things for the Catholics within the Vatican and…everywhere. Ben and his brother Bernardo want Vincenzo’s child dead, so they’re hunting Giselle. But now a girl named Gina is carrying Vincenzo’s child. They’ll hunt her if they find out. And please don’t go after Nejla, she’s the repository for our holy tradition. If she went to Maine, she went there to hide from the Catholic death squad.”

  “Repository?”

  “The Alithinían religion has never written anything down,” Raphielli enthused. “So, n
o documents could be found and used against them by Catholics. The orators pass down and memorize the words spoken by Paul, and even Jesus’ words as told by the disciples who were there!”

  “Nejla is very special,” Benny said desperately.

  “What’s special about the Scortinis?”

  “Their bloodline came from Paul.”

  “Paul who?”

  “The Apostle Paul.”

  His mouth dropped open and he stared at Benny in shock. “You’re carrying a child descended from the Apostle Paul?”

  She beamed. “That I am.” Then her face darkened. “It was a horrible process, but I am.”

  “So simple. A holy war. Catholics attempting to wipe out Salvio’s people…”

  “The Alitininían Church. For centuries,” Raphielli clarified.

  “And Salvio’s people…the Alitininían are trying to…”

  “Topple the Vatican, and it’s the Veronas who have helped the Vatican survive,” Benny chimed in.

  “What’s the motive? Greed? Power?” he asked.

  Benny looked offended. “Not for us. My people have been hunted and murdered almost to extinction by people who are trying to overpopulate the planet. We just want to survive.”

  Raphielli looked disgusted. “I was raised Catholic, but the Church has a terrible history.”

  “Power. Oldest motive in the book,” he said.

  Gladys came through the door with panini and sodas and ran to him. “Luigi! Oh, honey! The doctors didn’t know…if you’d wake up!” She stashed everything on a table and kissed him all over his face. “Let me get the doctors!”

  “Wait, per favore,” Raphielli said as she dragged Benedetta forward. “I have to tell him some very important things.”

  He tried to hug his wife and discovered his other hand had tubes in it. “Gladys, give us a minute, okay?”

  She nodded and stepped out, pulling the door closed. But she stood staring through the glass window at him.

  “There are no new motives,” Raphielli continued. “Man just repeats mistakes the old teachers warned us against. While the world has changed dramatically where technology is concerned, mankind hasn’t changed since the beginning. Even Socrates, four hundred years before Christ, tried to get people to stop power-grabbing in the name of the gods and pursuing wealth for wealth’s sake.”