Maestre. Over the bridge. And they’ll be prepared. After that, there’s only Padua, no other stops.”
“But there’s Vicenza itself. They’ll have to put him in a car there.”
“Yes, it was my first thought. So their first thought too, no? Ha, the city of Palladio. Maybe that’s why I thought of this place,” she said, opening the doors.
The inside was stark white, unadorned, something rare in Venice, architecture left alone. Rosa dipped her fingers in a font, crossed herself, then took a pew in the back. An old woman was arranging gladioli in vases on the altar, but otherwise the nave was empty, a perfect meeting place. For a second I wondered if it was one of those churches where voices gathered at the ceiling and then swirled down to some listening spot behind a pillar, but Rosa, suspicious of the Bauer, seemed unconcerned here. She lowered her voice but didn’t whisper.
“And what if Vicenza’s too late? You understand, we don’t know when they’ll do it-a few days, right away, we don’t know. And the train worries me. So easy to fall off. And people might believe it, not like in a car. Who jumps out of a car?” Her voice fast, caught up in it. War stories.
“Do you really believe this?”
“Cavallini doesn’t want a trial. You told me yourself.”
“To protect the Maglione name.”
“Because he’ll lose. The name is disgraced and he loses. A double loss. So, another solution. One he knows. Another thing he learned from the Germans. You think it’s the first time for him?”
I thought of the arm shooting out to the boy’s throat.
“I know him a little too. So,” she said, already moving past it, “Vicenza, maybe it’s too late. Maybe everywhere it’s too late. The best thing is if he never leaves Venice.”
“But they’ll have people in the station.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice eager, “but not in the yards. We have people in the yards. A signal delay. Once the train’s over the bridge, he’s gone, but in the yards-there’s no one but the guards on the train.”
“How long will you have?”
“A few minutes. But after, if we make the boat, then we have the advantage. The police will be out front, in the Grand Canal. By the time they get behind the station, we’re already gone.”
“To Maestre.”
“One boat, yes,” she said, her eyes bright, watching my reaction. “Where they expect to follow. Another where they don’t expect-back to Venice.”
“A reverse. Like a football play.”
“Yes? I don’t know.”
“And then what?”
“And then we get off the water. We have to expect by this time the alarm is made, all the boats are out. Police boats are fast, they can outrun almost anything. So they chase to Maestre, they chase somewhere else, looking, but there’s nothing to see. The fox has gone into his hole.”
“At Ca’ Venti.”
She spread her hands. “ Ecco.”
“With the boat parked out front?”
“No, of course not. We don’t even tie up. We don’t need long, just enough time to drop him off. The boat keeps going; he stays in the hole. Then, later, another boat comes, one the police have never seen.”
“And if they do catch the first?”
“What do they catch? Only the driver.”
“And meanwhile they’ve lost the scent and the new boat takes the fox-”
“Somewhere else.”
“That I won’t know.”
“Nobody knows. Just your piece. The first boat doesn’t know the second boat. No one can betray anyone. Not this time.”
“You don’t need Ca’ Venti to make the switch. You could do it anywhere in Venice.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Not so many of us have our own canal entrance. I told you, no one suspects you. If we use one of our own people, maybe the police have a list. They’ll look. But nobody looks for you. Besides, the house is convenient, close to the channel.”
“You’ve already been there.”
“Rio di Fornace, yes,” she said, precise. “Two ends. One the Grand Canal, the other Giudecca channel. Two exits, not a trap.”
“Not busy, either. Not at that hour. A boat might be noticed.” I thought of us looking at the bedroom light across the canal, afraid to make a splash.
“Yes, I know. Just leave the water gate unlocked. It takes a minute. There’s nothing to make people look. And you’ll be out.”
“Where?”
“A restaurant, anywhere people will see you. You don’t know anything about it. You weren’t there. You didn’t think to lock the gate, that’s all. You don’t know.”
“Do you think they’d believe that?”
“No,” she said, smiling faintly. “But nothing will go wrong. They’re not expecting this. And if we think the police are right behind us, we don’t stop. I give you my word.”
“And what about Angelina?”
“Who?”
“The maid. She lives there.”
“ Che bella. The problems of the rich. Give her the night off.”
I started to smile, in spite of myself, then stopped. Out for the evening. No risk. The plan already in motion, whether I helped or not.
“Do you want to save his life?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding, suddenly believing it would happen, Moretti safe, Claudia and I happy again, maybe on the train he never took.
“Then just leave the gate unlocked. Come on, she’s finished with the flowers.”
She got up, crossing herself again, and turned to the door before the woman could see her. Outside, she pulled her sweater tighter, an automatic reflex even in the warm spring air.
“What’s going to happen to him?” I said.
“We’ll hide him until it’s safe. Who knows, maybe they’ll find the one who did it.”
“Maybe,” I said, glancing away. “And if not?”
“Then he becomes someone else. Anyway, he’s alive.” She stopped at the foot of the steps and looked across the channel. “You can see it from here, the house. It’s a good plan, yes?”
“I hope so. It’s your neck.”
She brushed this away. “It’s an old neck. He’s just a boy. And to carry this burden now, blaming himself. How I wish I’d never talked to him.”
“But we were right. If that means anything to you. Gianni was working with the Germans.”
“Yes?” she said, not really interested. Yesterday’s files.
“His brother kept papers, it turns out. Giulia has them. Gianni was friendly long before he turned up at Villa Raspelli. Business partners.”
“Business partners,” she said, dismissing this.
“And then more, after Paolo was killed. When he found out Moretti had been one of you-” I stopped, backing away from her husband, what must have happened next, but her mind had gone elsewhere, still Herr Kroger with files.
“These papers, you can get them?”
“No. Anyway, he’s dead. They’re no use to us now, except to know.”
“But there must be others. People he mentions, Italians. We need-”
“She’d burn them first. It’s her family. I thought you didn’t care anymore about Gianni.”
“Him, no. But the others? Not care? Do you know what’s happening in Italy? No, an American, all you see is this.” She spread her arm to the view. “Not what’s really here. You think the Fascists have gone away? No, back again, the same people. Back where they were, head of the table. Magliones. The Church. My god, the Church.” She
