"Hey, ciao, Kat," said Maria cheerfully, leaning over their table. "What brings you to a dump like this? Got no music. And the wine is expensive."
Benito flopped down next to them. Maria was pleased to see Kat. That was obvious. Great. Now he had a brother and Maria to get away from trouble. Caesare didn't know how right he'd been in telling Benito to be her minder.
Kat dimpled. "The company is good though. Listen--a word of warning. There's going to be a Schiopettieri sweep through the town tonight."
Benito shivered. If they hadn't gone early they'd have been caught up in it.
Maria sat down abruptly, scowling. "Bastardos! They're just trying to intimidate anyone from hitting the Dandelos." She stared at Kat, the scowl turning into a crease of puzzlement. "How do you know this stuff, Kat?"
Kat's face took on a guarded look. "Business. Let's just leave it out of this."
Benito got to his feet. "I'd better go over to Claudia and Valentina. I've got something to give back--uh, to deliver to them."
Maria nodded. "Si. I'll take you. Quicker. Look Kat, I've got a bundle I need to get to you."
"I'll be here on Thursday." She glanced shyly across at Marco.
He nodded.
Like that was it? thought Benito grimly. Have to break this up. "You'd better come with us, Marco. Hear Claudia's got some . . . doctor who wants to talk to you."
Marco stood up, reluctantly. "I suppose so." He smiled at Kat. "Thursday then."
She drained her wine, and stood up. "I might as well go too. Time I got home."
They walked out. As they got to the door there was something of a press of older men. Benito realized he recognized one of them. It was the short, red-haired man with the single line of dark eyebrow . . . who had seen them that first early morning outside the Imperial embassy--and then again when they'd recovered Kat's parcel. He was the Spaniard who had been staying with Ricardo Brunelli.
The redhead looked across the crowd . . . his eagle eyes taking them all in. The eyes narrowed and he began to push towards them.
"I've got to get out of here," said Kat, genuine fear in her voice.
But there was a real crowd at the door. A masque must have finished across at La Fenice, and this was the drink-after-the-show bunch. "Follow me." Benito dropped to his knees and began squirming between legs. He collected a few slaps on the rump, and by the squawks behind him, so did a few of the others. But they were out in a minute, all of them.
"It'll take more than a crowd to stop that man," said Marco. Sure enough the redhead was outside the inn, peering into the night. And, as luck would have it, he'd come out closer to the canal.
Benito didn't know this area as well as he did some the richer areas he'd cased along the Grand Canal. But knew it well enough. "We can just nip up that alley. If the tide is out enough we can walk along the ledge around to where the gondolas are moored."
The alley a few yards from the corner of Zianetti's stank just like what it was often used for. They moved down the dark curve of it quietly. And then, Maria--who happened to be in the lead--stopped them. Outlined by lights on the far side of the canal, at the mouth of the alley, were two people . . . kissing passionately.
"Merda," whispered Maria. "Him!"
Benito recognized the man too. It was that Milanese trade mission fellow he'd taken the message to at the German Hotel. The one he'd seen Caesare in the alley with afterward. The fellow had a very recognizable profile, even in bad light.
"There are some stairs back there," whispered Kat.
Benito thought he was good at managing without light, but she was obviously as good as a real cat. They went back a few yards and up the little walled staircase. There they crouched and waited. Sure enough, someone came past beneath them.
The person stopped a few yards further on. And then turned and walked far more quietly back.
"That's the figlio di una puttana who questioned me in the Casa Dandelo," hissed Maria.
"Who? Senor Lopez?" whispered Kat. "The man who saw us at Zianetti's and chased us? You mean it was you he was after?"
"No." whispered Maria. "I'm talking about the man kissing the woman. I've never seen that Lopez fellow in my life before. Who is he, anyway?"
Benito heard Kat take a deep breath, and whisper nervously. "He pretends he's just a visitor to Venice. But I think he's a witch-finder from the Grand Metropolitan in Rome, hunting Strega."
"I thought the Petrines believed in tolerance of other religions?" whispered Marco.
Kat snorted quietly. "Did he look tolerant?"
Benito had to agree. He didn't. Determined; powerful, yes. Tolerant, no.
"You don't know the other man? The one at the end of the alley? Or the woman?" Whispered Maria, before they got bogged down in theology.
"No," said Kat.
Benito actually bit his tongue to stop himself from saying "Francesco Aleri." He must talk to Caesare. He didn't have a clue who the woman was.
* * *
Kat bit her tongue. She had no idea who the man was. But the silhouette of Lucrezia Brunelli's hairdo was unmistakable.
And from the foot of the stairs someone rasped. "All right, Lorendana's kids. Aleri and the other guy have gone. You can go home."
Kat hadn't realized she'd been holding Marco's hand. She felt him relax. Whoever this was, he wasn't bad. "Thanks, Harrow," said Marco.
The relieving party said nothing, just walked away up the alley. So they all got up and left too. Two minutes later she was out on the Grand Canal. Why was Lopez after her? The thought was scary. She'd better prompt Giuseppe to not have her at home to any visiting Spaniards. And she'd take the long way home to avoid the sweep.
* * *
Maria worked her oar in silence for a while. Then she said "Marco, what did your Spook say?"
"Kat? She's not 'mine.' " Marco sounded almost wistful about it. "She's a wonderful girl, isn't she? And you heard what she said . . ."
Maria clicked her tongue in irritation. "Tch. Lord and Saints, Marco. Not Kat. That burned-face troll that follows you around! Ugliest guardian angel in the universe."
"Oh. Harrow." Marco shrugged. "He's just somebody who--knew our mother."
"And the other name?" asked Maria, intently. "Aleri?"
"Well," said Marco thoughtfully. "There was a high-up Montagnard in mother's time by that name. Francesco Aleri."
Benito wished like hell Marco's memory was less good. He really had to talk to Caesare about this before Maria went in like a bull in a china shop. Aleri would have to die. But Maria must be kept well clear. Best to change the subject before Marco remembered something else inconvenient. "So now you're crazy about Kat, Marco. What happened to the dream girl in the boat?"
Marco laughed happily. "Kat is the dream girl in the boat, Benito."
There was a long moment of silence from both Maria and Benito. Benito wound his jaw back up. Bossy-boots Kat, with too big a mouth, and a tongue that could scour brass?
"What!?" he croaked--in unison with Maria.