The Chamber of Ten

“Sorry,” she said. Domenic glanced at her and waved his hand—Hey, don’t mention it—but still could not meet her eyes. “But it’s just not like him!”

Domenic held both hands out, shoulders raised in a frozen shrug.

“I know.” Geena sighed. “I know. Nico and I kept it to ourselves for so long. It’s awkward.”

“Not really awkward,” he said. “Just …” The waitress came then, and they both ordered large cappuccinos with extra shots. When she left, Domenic sat quietly looking through the window at the library building across the street. He tapped his fingers on the tabletop.

“Just what?” Geena asked. He really wants to be over there, not here with me. And I can’t blame him for that. Will he blame me for not wishing the same?

“Well, he’s not a kid,” he said. “A lot … you know … younger than you, but no kid. He can look after himself.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, but she already knew. She’d been so wrapped up in her own world that she hadn’t taken time to try to view it from the outside.

“I mean, is Nico missing, or is he just not here? With you?”

“You think this is to do with things between me and him?” she asked. And yes, that was exactly what he meant. A flush of anger rose and receded again, and in its place was a sudden sense of how alone she was. This hit Geena sometimes, striking hard when she least expected—a feeling that no one else really understood her. Before Nico, she’d believed it stemmed from being so mixed up in history that the present was not the same place for her as it was for other people. Much of the time she spent thinking about the past, not the here and now, and some days she’d go home after a day at the university and spend the evening adjusting to the present. And then Nico came, touching her mind, and the reasons for her remoteness became wonderfully different.

“I’m just trying to look at it from all angles, Geena.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you what sort of trouble I thought he was in,” she said. “That policeman you put me onto, I spoke with him on the phone yesterday, and I didn’t tell him, either.”

“Why not?”

“Because I think Nico beat someone half to death yesterday.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks and placed them on the table quickly, sensing the awkward silence her presence had instilled. Geena held Domenic’s gaze, trying to read his expression. Past the shock she saw concern for her, heartfelt and deep, and she reminded herself that she had friends.

“What do you mean?” he asked when the waitress left.

Geena looked up when the cafe door opened. Finch stood in the doorway. A smile was already slipping from his face when he saw them, one hand half raised in greeting.

“Howard,” she said, waving him in. He was the last person she’d wanted to speak to, yet he’d arrived at an opportune moment. Had she really wanted to tell Domenic about the beaten man? And if she did, how the hell would she explain how she’d linked Nico with the assault?

She couldn’t. No one would believe her, and besides, her bond with Nico was precious and personal. It was special and peculiar to them, and she had never mentioned it to another person.

“Am I, er, disturbing …?” Howard asked.

“Not at all,” Geena said. “Please.” She pointed at the seat beside Domenic, and the producer sat down awkwardly. He coughed, rubbed his hands together, then shook his head when the waitress stood beside him.

“Ah, the film crew is prepping the cameras and getting into their dive kits,” he said. “And, ah, as this is your project …” He trailed off, looking at Geena as if waiting for her to finish his sentence.

I can’t be here, Geena thought. He’s out there somewhere, and I can’t be here. But of course, she had to be. She had responsibilities, and she had no idea where Nico might be. Rushing off and leaving all her responsibilities behind would not help her find him, and at least here she might feel grounded.

“Yes,” Geena said, glancing at Domenic. He was frowning at her, and she knew that as soon as the two of them were alone again, he would grill her about what she’d said, and why she had not let him in on this the previous night. She’d called his police friend and told him simply that Nico was missing, and the response she’d received was just what she expected. He’s an adult. Unless you think he’s hurt or in danger, there’s little we can do. And picturing the beaten man she’d seen carried from that old building, she had told the policeman that no, she had no reason to suspect either.

Yes, he’s in danger, she’d been thinking. And perhaps I am, too. But she was not about to give Nico up to the police.

“Yes, my project. I was just sitting here tanking up on caffeine before facing Adrianna.” She smiled, and Finch laughed politely, glancing sidelong at Domenic’s stern expression. He knew there was something more going on here, but he was obviously unsure how to broach it.

“So, your whole team will be here for this?” he asked.

“Most of them,” Domenic said. “Nico is resting; he’s picked up a bug somewhere.”

“Lot of it around,” Finch said.

Geena drank some of her coffee and enjoyed the steam rising before her eyes, cutting her off from the two men for a moment. I’m here when you need me, she thought, wishing that Nico’s strange touch could go both ways.

“So Tonio tells me Sabrina’s footage from Monday’s accident convinced your bosses to let you do a six-part series?” Geena said, and Finch seemed to visibly relax. They finished their coffees while Finch filled them in—his series would cover the sinking of Venice, Geena’s original project attempting to salvage Venetian antiquity from the rising waters, Petrarch’s library, the Chamber of Ten, and the recovery effort—but all the time Geena was aware of Domenic simmering gently beside her. She would have to tell him soon, she supposed. But she would give it until lunchtime. If she’d heard nothing from Nico by then, she thought, she would need the support.

As she crossed the street with Domenic to her left and Finch to her right, the morning sun broke across the Biblioteca’s facade. A gentle breeze blew from deeper within the city, carrying a mix of the city’s scent with it— coffee, baking bread, sewage, dirty water, cigarette smoke, and that indefinable aroma of water that always seemed untouched by whatever impurities the water might contain. A rush of optimism was blown in with the breeze, and Geena felt herself lifted. Everything’s going to be all right, she thought. By midday, she would have cause to wonder where such foolish ideas might have originated.

They entered the Biblioteca and as they passed through the foyer, they could already hear the library director’s voice raised in protest, echoing shrill and angry along the halls.

“Sounds like your camera team have met Adrianna,” Domenic said as they entered the reading room.

“Yes, quite a lady,” Finch agreed. “First she told us we’d come to the wrong place, then she claimed there were old Venetian laws forbidding filming in the library.”

“She does like keeping the place quiet,” Geena said.

“Sounds like she’s the one making all the noise now,” Domenic said, chuckling.

They walked back into the now cramped room where the secret door to Petrarch’s library stood open. Sabrina, Ramus, and Adrianna were there, as well as several strangers—the BBC crew, she guessed—and two senior students she recognized from the university. These two had dived on many sites around Venice, sometimes on their own, and sometimes taking one of several other students or lecturers down with them. Sabrina was one; not yet fully trained as an archaeological diver, still she was well versed with all the technology, and she knew the dangers. They were already wearing dry-suits, and Sabrina was chatting with the BBC crew via an interpreter. They pointed at various pieces of camera technology arrayed on a table before them, and Geena guessed they were trying to decide whether they’d be able to patch Sabrina’s camera images directly through to their laptops. One of the BBC crew was standing behind Sabrina, surreptitiously eyeing her shapely behind in the suit. And it’s the Italians who get the reputation as leches, Geena thought.

Tonio emerged from the stairwell that led to the flooded chamber below—Petrarch’s library—a look of concern on his face. He noticed Geena and brightened, and she saw his eyes flickering either side of her as he looked for Nico.

“Geena!” he called, holding out his arms. “We’ve been waiting.”

She nodded at Tonio, then smiled at Ramus and Sabrina. She knew them well enough to know that they were uncomfortable, but she could not make out why. Was it the BBC crew and the sudden widening of attention