The Venetian Series 02: When the Snow Comes Down in Venice

"Perhaps you don't believe me," said Acquati. He was nothing if not perceptive, thought Bedrich. "I think you know that Heather and I shared an interest in pain. But it wasn't the pain that we loved -- it was the trust, her willingness to accept anything from me, absolutely anything. That, Bedrich, is the most intoxicating feeling. No amount of money can rival that feeling."

They had reached the far corner of the Piazza, and now turned left, continuing counter-clockwise. The four men were alone in the square, which was frozen and silent under the brilliant gray sky. The enormous, archaic buildings that surrounded it looked down on them with indifference.

"Bedrich, once you have attained that sort of passion, that once-in-a-lifetime gift that most people do not even suspect exists -- you must follow where it leads. You must test its limits. Do you understand me?"

Bedrich turned to look at him, but his face communicated nothing. Bedrich was the master of his reactions now. He was coming to the realization that Acquati could not be moved by a conventional argument, by ethics. Acquati was beyond their reach.

"Heather needed to make the ultimate gesture of trust. I believe that she wanted it."

"You believe that she wanted it," Bedrich repeated, marveling to himself. What could he possibly mean? That she wished to be killed, as some sort of ultimate gesture of passion? Or had Acquati simply convinced himself that she wanted it? Did it give him pleasure to kill?

"It was something between me and her. It is not your concern. You could not understand it."

"About that, you are right."

They were headed back along the edge of the square, approaching the point at which they had first met, when Bedrich first saw the men in their slate-gray uniforms. Almost simultaneously, Acquati saw them as well, and a hint of a frown played about his lips. "What have we here? The Guardia di Finanza?"

Acquati did not vary his pace, but soon his party was ringed by uniformed men converging from all directions. From their ranks emerged Lieutenant Antonio Durante, who approached Acquati and greeted him pleasantly.

"Buongiorno, Signor Acquati. Yes, I'm afraid we have a warrant here for your arrest. Interpol, right? Apparently you do some business in Iceland, yes? They have a new law that imposed limits on derivatives trades in the krona, their currency."

For the first time, Bedrich saw Acquati lose his composure. Acquati said, in a tone extreme annoyance, "Iceland? Those stupid meddlers. They know nothing about finance!" He seemed to be talking to himself.

Durante nodded in mock agreement. "Absolutely! You could have knocked me over with a wild goose feather. I mean, really! But we must take you in. Here are the handcuffs. Have you used them before? Maybe in romantic moments?" At this point an involuntary snicker escaped Durante's lips. "My apologies, yes, inappropriate."

Acquati, offered him his wrists, while speaking calmly once again. "This is ridiculous. My attorneys will have me freed within hours."

"Yes, probably a misunderstanding for sure. Again, my apologies." Durante turned and winked at Bedrich as he marched his captive toward a waiting police van. Acquati's bodyguards were invited to come along. The gray-uniformed men all got into similar vehicles and departed slowly along the slippery, snow-covered streets.

Lost in thought, Bedrich walked slowly across the Piazza to his regular hang-out at the cafe. Along the way, he reached into his coat pocket and examined his cell phone. He had only succeeded in bringing up his list of phone contacts on the screen.

Inside the cafe, Helmut was seated with a cup of espresso in front of him, looking happy and vigorous. Seeing Bedrich enter, Helmut looked up at him and grinned. Bedrich nodded in response.

"So this was your Plan B, Helmut?"

"Yes, and I think it will work. We probably can't convict him of the crime he deserves to do time for, but he'll do some time anyway."

"He may," said Bedrich soberly. He considered whether he ought to tell Helmut about Acquati's revelations, about the curious fate of Heather O'Shaughnessy. Suddenly he felt a crushing fatigue, and he could not bring himself to discuss it. Perhaps another time, he thought to himself.

Rodica emerged from the back of the cafe and seated herself next to Helmut, taking his arm affectionately."So," she said, "all the research you were doing, did you find what you need?"

Helmut put his arm around Rodica. "Yes, I think I found what I need." She beamed and looked over at Bedrich. But Bedrich did not look back; he appeared to be lost in a cold and wintry world of his own.

This story is my entry for the Winter Holidays contest. If you enjoyed it, I would appreciate your vote, and I also invite you to make any comment that you may wish to make. Although this is intended to be a stand-alone story, it is also destined to eventually become part of a novella, along with the first installment, When the Masks Come Off in Venice, which features the same cast of characters. Once again, thanks for reading.