“Woo ooo,” he called softly, and was rewarded with a yowl almost directly below. He eased himself over the edge of the roof, dangling blindly for a little until he got his legs around the pipe, then shinnied silently down the drainpipe. It went in through the wall to a tank within, but in a full stretch he could reach the narrow ledge that ran around the edge of the islet.
“Woo ooo,” he chirped, struggling to hold his balance on the cold, slippery, slimy ledge, as he positioned himself with his back to the wall. Come high tide, this would be underwater, and it tended to collect unsavory stuff. He was having to hold to the drainpipe above him with both hands; the ledge was barely two inches wide.
Meeeow, came the answer, and the soft bump of a boat-nose against the ledge beside him, black blot against the reflective water. Benito squirmed about like a real cat, grabbed the gondola’s nose with both hands and leapfrogged aboard her before Maria had a chance to say a word.
He felt his way down off the nose, worked his way past the barrels occupying the slats of the bottom, and sat down on the worn boards of foredeck, knowing she knew he’d gotten aboard safely by the gondola’s movement. He heard and felt her heave with the oar, moving the gondola into the current of the Grand Canal. There was a tense moment as they passed the bulk of the residential side of Casa Dandelo, but it stayed quiet, with hardly a light showing anywhere in the building. Then they were past, down into Cannaregio, where Maria had legitimate—well, sort of—business. A barrel delivery from Giaccomo, and not all the barrels were empty. This wasn’t the first night she’d had him along on the skip to help—nor would it be the last, hoped Benito. Maria’s company grew on you, away from Caesare.
Make it look like business as usual, and that’s what everybody is going to figure, was another of Valentina’s maxims.
When they finished this delivery, they’d head home by way of Barducci’s. Benito would pass Valentina her little tool under cover of buying her a drink, and that would be her signal to spread the word tonight along certain channels that Casa Dandelo was no longer as impregnable as the Dandelos thought.
Benito grinned yet again as he picked the splinter from his climb out of his palm with his teeth. Figure as many as two of the slaves hit them—and they’ll fall out. With a small pry bar, anyone could pry them loose. Lord and Saints—I damn sure wouldn’t want to be the fellow responsible for those grilles! he thought, smugly.
He heard Maria start to whistle through her teeth, and guessed she was thinking the same thing.
Well, that was a little more off the tot-board for what he and Marco owed to Maria and Caesare. A good night’s work, profitable for everybody—except Casa Dandelo.
Chapter 59
“Message for you, Maria,” said Jeppo laconically, as they unloaded the barrels at Giaccomo’s. “That Spook came here for you. The boss don’t like her here. Giaccomo’s real nervous about that ‘magic’ crowd. She ain’t a good contact to do business with.”
“I owe her,” said Maria shortly, pushing her hair back from a sweaty brow. “Ain’t business. But I got stuff to give back to her. What’s the message?”
“Said she’d be over at Zianetti’s tonight.”
“Uh huh.” Maria sighed. “All the way over to Accademia tonight.”
Jeppo grinned. Twitched a thumb at Benito. “You better teach the apprentice to row.”
* * *
Zianetti’s was never as noisy as Barducci’s. There’d been trouble years ago about a tavern in the middle of the Accademia area disturbing students—who were of course the ones who made the disturbance, and not the ones who complained. So Zianetti’s wasn’t a music place. The food was good and relatively cheap. The drink slightly more expensive than elsewhere. This simple recipe kept those intent on serious drinking going elsewhere, while making sure there were always customers. The big common room had been split up into a succession of smaller rooms, so rowdy argument—about everything from politics to paints—was limited to the crew who could fit in the smaller salons. Benito found it too quiet for his taste.