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Once I stepped out of the bathroom, the two thugs marched me through the nuns’ quarters and back into the church.
I couldn’t help but notice the blood-smeared trail the priest’s body had left when they’d dragged it out.
Half a dozen men dressed in black and carrying assault rifles watched as I passed them. One of them said something in Russian, and a couple more snickered.
Wagner mercenaries, I thought.
Same as the assholes who tried to kidnap me a month ago.
Aurelio’s men took me out into a small courtyard, where another six mercenaries were standing around. From there we entered a door at the base of the bell tower.
We wound our way up a long spiral staircase. At the top was a small octagonal room with a lattice of wooden crossbeams overhead. The bells must have been removed – but there was a single wooden chair.
Empty archways on every side of the room led to a balcony with a white railing all around it.
Aurelio was on the balcony. He stared out at Venice, which was only 1200 feet across the water.
Next to him stood Zollner, who had his sniper rifle propped up on the railing. He was looking through the scope down at the cemetery, and was back to wearing his green alpine hunter’s hat with the feather in the band.
Aurelio turned around when his thugs forced me onto the balcony.
“Ah, there you are,” he said. He pulled me over to the white railing. “Stand right here for a minute.”
I glanced down uneasily. To the left was a huge tree; to the right was a red-tiled roof 60 feet down. Between them was a brick walkway on the ground. Unless you were lucky enough to hit the tree, a fall from this height would be fatal.
I wondered if Aurelio planned to push me over the edge.
Instead, he pulled out a cell phone, dialed, and put it on speakerphone.
“Ca’ Fioretti,” a man’s voice answered.
“Put me through to the Widow,” Aurelio said.
The man on the other end was indignant. “Signora Fioretti is not – ”
Aurelio spoke over him. “Lucia, say something to the moron.”
“…put him through,” I said.
I had no idea who the man on the other end of the line was, but he obviously knew me.
A few seconds later, Nona answered.
“Lucia? Are you alright?”
Anybody else would have thought she was calm and collected, but I knew her too well. The higher pitch of her voice let me know she was afraid.
“She’s fine. Aren’t you, Lucia?” Aurelio said smugly.
“Gettin’ there,” I muttered.
“Do you know who this is?” Aurelio asked.
“Aurelio Rosolini, I presume.”
“You presume correctly. Your men must have some binoculars on hand – I’m sure they’ve been watching my boats outside your palazzo for weeks now. Why don’t you borrow a pair and direct your attention to the bell tower on San Michele?”
There was a pause. “I’ll need a moment.”
