The Venetian Series 01: When the Masks Come Off in Venice

"We don't need to go too far into the past, Helmut. Assicurazioni Generali was part of the syndicate that funded Mussolini. You will always find them mixed up in that sort of thing. Do you remember Propaganda-2?"

"Propaganda-2? Sorry, I don't know what that is."

"Propaganda-2 was a Masonic lodge, founded in 1966. Sometimes it is simply called P-2. A lot of big-shot politicians belonged to it. It was called a 'shadow government'. They took over the big newspaper,Corriere della Sera. It was exposed in 1981 that they were mixed up in all sorts of crime and terrorism. Generali financed that one, too."

"What was their motive for doing all that?"

"Basically, they wanted to return to the old, bad ways. The ways that were developed right here in Venice." Bedrich shot Helmut a sardonic smile.

As they conversed, the waterbus proceeded up the canal, passing gondolas and powerboats that were weaving hither and yon through the water. On either side of the canal there were buildings that spoke of past centuries -- old, weather-beaten structures adorned with sculpture and ornate architectural facades. Near the edge of the water, poles protruded from its surface, to be used to secure various kinds of watercraft. Some of them were gaily painted in spirals like barber poles. Many of the buildings flew flags from their balconies, both the Italian national flag and others that Helmut did not recognize.

Helmut inquired, "What do these things have to do with the possibility that Acquati is involved in some sort of insider trading or fraud?"

Bedrich smiled patiently. "In Venice, it's never just about money. You must understand that during the middle ages, Venice ruled most of the world. Did they do it through force of arms? No. They did it through finance, and spying. They didn't conquer all the other kingdoms, they learned to manipulate them. That's what they do."

"So what do you think Acquati might be doing now?"

"I don't know. But I may have an idea for how to find out." The waterbus was arriving at the desired destination now, and Bedrich shepherded Helmut off the boat and on to dry land.

The two of them now set out on foot, and soon were in the vicinity of the Campo San Giacomo di Rialto.

"May I ask you a personal question?" said Helmut.

"Certainly," replied Bedrich.

"What is your connection to all this?"

Bedrich smiled broadly. "Well, I'm retired now. But before... I suppose you could say I was in the information business. People paid me to find things out." He turned and grinned at Helmut. "Don't worry -- there will be no charge for my services. It is no longer my vocation. Now it is my... avocation. I'm doing it because Rodica likes you. And I think I like you, too. You seem like an honest fellow." He gestured toward a flight of stairs that led up the side of a grand old building. "We'll go up here."

They ascended two flights of stairs, and stood on a shaded balcony overlooking a busy square. The square was surrounded by chic shops of various kinds, and full of tables where people were eating, drinking and socializing. Bedrich spent a few minutes scanning the crowd in silence, then seized Helmut's elbow while gesturing with the other arm toward the far end of the square. Helmut followed the gesture with his eyes, and saw Acquati entering the square, accompanied by his tall, silent associate.

"I am familiar with Mr. Acquati's routine," said Bedrich.

They both watched as Acquati made his way through the square, stopping at tables occasionally to exchange greetings. Finally he and his companion came to a stop at an empty table, away from the busy part of the square and not far from the balcony where Bedrich and Helmut were watching. Acquati remained there in silence for a minute or two, until a man wearing a dark windbreaker and a baseball cap emerged from the shadows to join him. The two of them began to converse in confidence, while the bodyguard stood impassively, his eyes roaming the crowd.

"This is not what I expected," muttered Bedrich.

"Why? What is happening?"

"Acquati is speaking with a bravo."

Trying not to seem impatient, Helmut asked, "What's a bravo?"

Speaking softly, Bedrich replied, "A bravo is an assassin. When Venice was a city-state, the Supreme Tribunal of the three state inquisitors was in charge of internal security. When a person was regarded as a threat to the state, a bravo would be dispatched to neutralize that person, typically with a stiletto."

Helmut was skeptical. "There is still such a thing today?"

"Like I said, things don't change much in Venice." Bedrich seemed agitated. "I need to follow that man, to learn what I can."

"Should I come along?"

"No. He would see you right away. He won't see me. Meet me tomorrow at the cafe again, same time." And with that, Bedrich disappeared down the stairs.

Helmut stood alone on the balcony for a few minutes in bemused silence. Then he, too, made his way down the stairs, and ventured out into the square for a little sight-seeing, as he tried to make sense of what was going on with this Bedrich character. He was attracted by a shop that was selling silk shirts and began to make his way toward it, when he heard someone call his cover name.

"Mr. Pagel! Won't you join us for a spritz?"

Helmut turned and saw Acquati, seated with a group of others at a table. He walked over to join them.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Acquati. I'm afraid I don't know what a spritz is. It may mean something else in my language."

"No, it is the very same word -- a spray. But allow me to introduce my friends."

Helmut noticed that Acquati's facial expression rarely changed. It was always one of cultivated serenity. He made his introductions, going around the table. The tall, well-dressed man with the carefully coiffed pompadour of chestnut-brown hair was Jason Bowman, the American Consul in Venice. To his right, the attractive redheaded woman was Jason's wife, Heather. Next, a short, bald, heavy-set fellow wearing mirrored aviator-style sunglasses and possessing no perceptible neck, was Bob Cole, introduced as being an American businessman. Finally, to Bob's right, was Michela da Rimini. She appeared to be in her 40s and was blond and very tan, her tan being nicely offset by some rather spectacular jewelry, earrings and a necklace that looked like real rubies. Helmut greeted each of them in turn, and when he got to Michela, she gave him a frankly appraising look and held on to his hand just a little too long.

Acquati did not introduce his bodyguard, who was standing a short distance from the table. He was now explaining that a spritz is is a cocktail prepared with prosecco wine, a dash of Select, and topped off with sparkling mineral water. He summoned a waiter and ordered one for Helmut. Meanwhile, Michela was pressing ahead with her new acquaintance:

"Mr. Pagel, I am hosting a little costume ball this weekend. For Halloween! You may know that we here in Venice don't actually celebrate it as holiday, but we are always looking for an opportunity to wear our masks. We like to show off for our out-of-town guests. Won't you attend?"

Bob Cole interjected, his voice booming. "Mr. Pagel, you don't want to miss one of Michela's parties. They're the damn talk of the town!" At this point he lowered his sunglasses enough to wink at Helmut.

Helmut looked to Acquati for guidance. His chief concern was to remain in Acquati's good graces, after wandering accidentally into a social encounter with him.

Acquati spoke graciously. "Mr. Pagel, we all enjoy Michela's social gatherings. I'd encourage you to come."

Heather added her endorsement. "Michela is an exceptional hostess, who has an appreciation for the finer and more...interesting things in life." She turned to Michela and gave her a significant smile, which Michela reciprocated.

"All right, then," said Helmut.

Michela looked pleased, and extracted an invitation from her purse. "Marvelous," she said, handing him the invitation.

Jason Bowman cleared his throat. "Till, I have a little surprise I've prepared for you."

Acquati replied, "A surprise?"

"Yes. The U.S. Department of State is going to be honoring a number of cities around the world for their contributions to the fight against Climate Change. We call it the "Sustainable Cities" initiative. Now, this is not yet set in stone, but I plan to nominate Venice -- this town seems to me to be a stellar example of the kind of stewardship that needs to be recognized and appreciated. If my nomination does go through, we'll need a representative of the Venetian business community to say a few words at a reception that we will be hosting, and you are the person who came to my mind right off the bat."

Acquati replied, "Well, Jason, I am flattered, and I hope you will keep me apprised of further developments as they unfold."

"So, if this thing comes through, you wouldn't mind making a few remarks?"

"It would be my pleasure, Jason."

Jason looked immensely gratified, like a schoolboy who has just received praise from the teacher. His wife scratched her elbow and appeared to be distracted by something that was going on across the square.

Bob Cole arose from his seat and announced, "I hate to be a wet blanket, but I'm due attend a meeting over at HighPacific. I'll be seeing you folks on Saturday."

Acquati added, "Yes, I'm afraid that my presence is required at that very same meeting. I look forward to seeing you all this weekend." The two businessmen departed together.

Michela turned to Jason and Heather. "My dears, don't you think it's high time you tried out my new Jacuzzi?" She added suggestively, "I've been waiting for an opportunity to get to know the both of you a little better. I find the Jacuzzi quite stimulating." She turned to Helmut with her smile turned up to full volume. "You would be most welcome to join us, Mr. Pagel."

Helmut watched the reactions of Jason and Heather. Heather's eyes glittered with interest. Jason, on the other hand, looked mildly offended and offered an awkward apology, saying that he was needed at the office. Helmut thanked Michela gallantly for the offer, but said that his professional obligations sadly prevented him as well from taking up her invitation. She gave him a wicked smile and said "Another time, then." Jason and Heather rose from the table, followed by Michela and Helmut, and they went their separate ways.

Aboard another waterbus, Helmut sat in the stern, watching the wake that the boat left behind it in the canal as he traveled back toward his hotel. The aging, enigmatic buildings receded into the distance along the sides of the canal.

The day had been full of surprises thus far. He had suspected Acquati of some sort of financial shenanigans, but dealing with assassins? That seemed far-fetched. He wouldn't know more until he saw Bedrich tomorrow morning. And on top of that, he suddenly found himself entering into a situation where he might get to know Acquati socially -- was that a major stroke of luck, or a dangerous complication? It was impossible to say, without seeing how it played out further. At this point, there was really nothing to do but wait, and be prepared to improvise.

Helmut felt the need to unwind, to take his mind off the cat-and-mouse game he was playing with Acquati. He suddenly remembered that he had Rodica's card in his pocket, and took it out to inspect it. He recalled how Bedrich had said that she liked him.

The card read simply, "Rodica Dalca, Fine Arts," with a phone number and address. He gazed at it for a moment, then took out his phone and dialed her number.

He heard three rings, and her voice came on the line.

"Pronto."

"Rodica? This is Helmut, we met yesterday at the museum."

"Yes! Hello!"

"I enjoyed talking to you yesterday, and I was wondering whether you might be free this evening to have dinner with me."

"Yes, I am free."

"Shall I pick you up at 7:00?"

"Yes, at 7:00. I will see you, Helmut."

Rodica lived in an old residential neighborhood, along a canal that was congested with the berths of small boats with outboard motors. After finding the street number, Helmut rang the bell and in a few moments, Rodica appeared at the door. She was wearing a dress, deep purple in color, that ended mid-thigh. Large silver hoops dangled from her ears, far below the perimeter of her short dark hair. She smiled warmly at Helmut, and said, "I can give you a suggestion for an eating place. It is very nearby."

"That sounds good. I need a suggestion."

A few minutes later, they were seated in a tiny neighborhood restaurant, ordering pasta under fluorescent lights. When they had finished with their orders and the waiter had gone back into the kitchen, Rodica smiled intently at Helmut and asked, "Helmut, you like painting?"

"Very much. I grew up in Berlin. They have a very good museum there, the Gemäldegalerie. There are some paintings there that I love."

"Which paintings?"

"The ones by Rembrandt, especially -- I like his paintings that tell stories from the Bible or from mythology. He tells the whole story in one picture -- he finds thepunctum saliens." He raised his eyebrows inquiringly at Rodica.

She grinned back at him. "I knowpunctum saliens. They teach Latin in Romania. I like those paintings that do that."

"The painting that you are copying has that same quality. Do you know the story behind it?"

"I don't know it. And I tried to find out. I went on the internet, and I find nothing about it."

"There has to be a story in that painting. I wonder what that man forged? And who is that woman who is punishing him?"

"I would like to know these things too." She flashed another smile at Helmut.

"What kind of painting is your favorite, Rodica?"

"Many kinds, I think. I like the Dutch and the Flemish. I like Vermeer, his paintings are very quiet and nice. I like vibrant color like Paul Klee. Or Raphael." She pronounced itvibrrrant., and grinned and shook her head. "I don't know. I need to find my own idea. I try to do everything now."

Before long the pasta arrived with wine, and they busily consumed both. As they did so, they continued to discuss painting. Rodica did not inquire about the progress of Helmut's investigation, and he was grateful for that, because he was at a loss to explain the significance of what had happened earlier that day. He decided to put it out of his mind until he could meet with Bedrich the following morning.

They had a second bottle of wine and gelato for dessert. As Helmut was finishing his last bites of gelato, he became aware of Rodica staring at him. He met her eyes, and watched a smile begin at the midpoint of her mouth and slowly broaden to both sides, until it was in full bloom below her sparkling eyes. Helmut smiled back, and thought to himself, she looks irresistible.

"Let's go," said Rodica. Helmut nodded, paid the bill, and they were out the door.

They walked along the canal for a few blocks without speaking, until Rodica gestured toward a narrow alleyway. Helmut followed her there, where the lighting was quite dim. She looked at him and simply said "I like you," then pulled him down to kiss her.

Helmut felt her tongue greet his, and felt her hand searching the front of his pants. It did not take long for her to find what she was looking for, because his cock was fully erect and straining against the fabric. Rodica moaned softly and thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, as she brought both hands down to unzip his zipper and bring his swollen cock out into the night air. Her hands wandered purposefully over his rigid shaft, provoking a sudden intake of breath from Helmut. With one of his arms still around her shoulders, he sent the other downwards.

Helmut's hand crept under the hem of her short dress and and went to explore between her thighs, which she obligingly parted, placing her feet at shoulder width and thrusting her crotch forward. His hand glided along her panties, which were saturated with her juices, and felt the abundant growth of soft hair that escaped from either side of the crotch of the panties. Rodica felt his cock grow yet harder as he investigated her there. She began to kiss him more aggressively.

Helmut moaned in turn, and suddenly yanked Rodica's panties down to her knees. She stretched them taut, keeping her knees as far apart as she could, anticipating the arrival of Helmut's fingers on her sex. He trailed them along her opening, awash with her juices, and sent one, then two fingers inside her. Rodica growled, "Oh, Doamne!" and her grip upon Helmut's cock became more urgent. They kissed fiercely as Helmut moved his fingers inside her, dragging them along the exciting texture of her G-spot, then slid them out and upward to either side of her plump clit, only to plunge them back inside her and repeat the journey.

Without warning, there was a sound of footsteps behind them. Helmut tensed and prepared to stuff his cock back in his pants, but Rodica, with surprising strength, caught his arm and prevented him from doing so. Feverishly she whispered "No!" and shoved her cunt hard against his hand. Helmut allowed his lust to override his concerns for either security or propriety. He accelerated his fingers as they made their circuit between her G-spot and her clit. Rodica cried "Oh, Doamne!" again, louder this time, and then her body convulsed and froze in position. The footsteps receded into the distance, accompanied by soft laughter.

Rodica's breathing was audible and ragged. After 30 seconds had passed, she said to Helmut, "Let's hurry! We go to my apartment." She pulled up her panties as Helmut restored his cock, with some difficulty, to its hiding place within his trousers. Then they walked back out on the well-lit pavement and proceeded hastily along the canal to Rodica's apartment building. She let them in, and they hurried up the ancient, dimly lit staircase to Rodica's room.

There they threw their arms around each other and kissed passionately. Then Helmut broke off the kiss, reached down, and lifted Rodica's dress up over her head. He paused for a moment to admire her in her black lace bra and panties, then lay down on her bed, smiling at her provocatively.

Rodica climbed on to the bed and knelt above Helmut, straddling his face. He looked up at her crotch and saw how little her panties could contain the wild and luxurious growth of her pubic hair, which crept up toward her navel and down her thighs as well. She looked down at him to be certain that he was watching. Then she began to massage her labia and clit through the fabric of her panties. Helmut found her aroma to be maddeningly sharp and arousing. He could see her juices glisten everywhere in the crotch of her garment. He put his hands on her ass and massaged her cheeks as she slid her hand into her undergarment and began to masturbate in earnest.

Helmut held back as long as he could, his glances darting back and forth between the movement of Rodica's fingers under her panties, and Rodica's eyes, which were looking down at him with an expression of unalloyed lust. Then he used his hands to force her to his face, desperately sucking the juices from her panties, reveling in the intensity of her scent which was much more potent up close.

After a minute or so, Rodica broke free and began to tear at Helmut's clothing. The two of them worked hastily in tandem to get both of them naked. Rodica pushed Helmut to the bed and, with a cry, began to devour his cock. Helmut moaned and surrendered to her ministrations, until his need became so urgent that he cried her name aloud and swung around to the 69 position, so that he could bury his face in her cunt. They held each other tight with wild determination, sucking ardently and fiercely. Rodica was the first to cum, and the second as well. Following her second climax, she disengaged herself, and jumped off the bed.