Chapter 25

A white racing boat inched slowly along the old wall that surrounded the orphanage. It wasn't there for the first time. An attentive observer would have noticed it the day before. And he would have also noticed how intently its passengers had stared at the wall, the small gate and the rings boats could be tied to.

Scipio and Prosper shivered in their black clothes and black masks although Venetian nights in May were warm. They had understood Mosca's message for this Star family. "Scip and Prop are to come to the orphanage with the "Angelina" to take the wing with them on the night of May, 15th at midnight." They had argued a bit about the date, but finally Hornet had decided, that it was more about the day of Caesar's death and not its month. And often enough they had made fun of Prosper's name that was integral to the Vulcan greeting "live long and prosper" and the fact that he had been born precisely at midnight.

Scipio cut off the engine and the last feet the boat was pulled by the strong current. Scipio and Prosper stood up and tied it to the wall at both ends and sat down again. They had stopped precisely in front of the small iron gate.

"I'm not feeling too well." Prosper said quietly.

"Me neither." Scipio answered monotone.

„I don't believe that we...that I'm actually going to do this."

Scipio didn't answer.

"What time is it?" Prosper asked after a while.

"Midnight."

They could hear the wind and the water. And footsteps that came closer behind the wall.

"Thief Lord?" Mosca whispered.

"We're here." Scip whispered back.

"Good. I knew you would understand my message. Help me to open the gate. It's old and stuck. We have to hurry. I'm not sure, if I'm not being followed."

With a screech and a grate that thundered in the boys' ears the gate gave up its resistance and opened slowly.

"Mosca! We were so worried about you." The elder boys wanted to embrace their friend and brother, but he stepped back.

"Later! We don't have time for this now. I just want to get home." He led them to the entrance of the big building.

"It's upstairs on the attic." Mosca explained whispering.

They flitted up the stairs. Somewhere further below a step creaked and they froze and only moved again, when they were convinced that it was just the old house and its nightly noises.

"The lock's weak. I brought a pair of scissors. We should be able to break the door open with it. Don't be alarmed, when you enter. It's only broken statues."

He warned them. Scipio took the scissors out of Mosca's hands and the lock broke after a hard turn. Gasping they stared at the statues illuminated by Prosper's flashlight.

"Come on, now. It's over there. It's too heavy for me."

And a few seconds later they stared down at the wing.

"Prop, push the donkey away." Scipio ordered and groaned, when he tried to lift the wing.

"What the devil?! What's this? Lead?" Scipio asked surprised and straightened up a bit.

„See? And it's warm, too. Feel it." Mosca affirmed. Scipio pulled off his black leather gloves to touch it.

"Indeed. Well, we can wonder about this later. Prop, help me."

Groaning the boys tried to lift it up once more.

„Try harder, Prop!" Scip panted.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Prop moaned back and with a last concerted effort they managed to lift it up. They held the wing in their arms and suddenly it felt much lighter just like an ordinary wing made from wood. They looked at each other and each pair of eyes reflected wary surprise.

"Something's very wrong with this thing." Scip voiced his concerns.

"Who cares?" Prop shot back. "Let's get out of here. Mosca, lead the way."

In single file they left the attic and jumped, when there was suddenly a flashlight ghosting below on the staircase. It seemed to climb up the stairs.

"Back in there!" Mosca panicked.

"What are we going to do?" Prosper whispered afraid. He heard Mona's words of the night she had broken up with him in the back of his head.

"Is there any other way down?" Scipio tried to assess the situation

"No!"

Scipio closed his eyes for a moment, frantically searching his mind for a way out, while they were hiding behind the statues. They waited with baited breath for the door to open, which it did eventually and the light fell into the room in a small streak. Mosca's eyes widened, when he could see the boy behind the light – Sebastiano.

Breathless they watched how the other boy made his way across the room towards them, quietly whistling under his breath. And they could only do so much to suppress a gasp, when Sebastiano stepped up to the statue of a Saint that carried a large book, which he took unceremoniously out of its hands and knelt down. A faint click and the book sprang open. The light fell onto a large black velvet pouch laying in a cavity. Sebastiano took it out of the book and removed a glittering object from his pocket. Lovingly he caressed the massive gold chain and its big emerald choker before he crammed it into the pouch.

"Good night, my beautiful darlings." He whispered. "You're safe here until the day I can safely sell you." He giggled and put back the velvet pouch that looked now even heavier than before. Sebastiano shut the book with a snap, put it back into the hands of the Saint and left with a new spring in his step the attic. The boys remaining behind heard the door being locked behind Sebastiano.

Silence.

"Wicked!" Mosca whispered after a while.

"Yeah." Scipio echoed.

"A true thief lord." Prosper whistled.

"Come on, let's have a look." Mosca urged exited and was already pulling out the book from under the Saint's hands.

"How does this thing open?" Mosca felt for a spring and there it was. He pressed and the book opened again. He pulled out the pouch and let its content spill out onto the floor. The boys eyes got HUGE, when they looked down onto the copious glittering finery.

"Man, is that real?" Mosca asked awed by the precious looking jewels that glittered under Prosper's flashlight.

Speechless Scipio nodded.

"I…."his voice croaked. "I recognise the necklace with the diamonds and the rubies. The contessa Pisani owns it. Marlena has raved about it for two days after the contessa had worn it for a party in our casa some time ago."

"We're rich." Mosca whispered exited. His hands dug into the pile.

"No, we're not." Prosper objected. "We can't take this. This isn't junk from the casa."

"Why not? It's a lot more worth than the wing." Mosca rebelled.

"Prop's right. This is hot stuff. Police and insurance companies surely search everywhere for it and have an eye on the black market and fences. I doubt if even Barbarossa has the contacts to sell the goods. Put it back. The stuff is worthless for us."

"And let's go before we run into another strange resident." Prop propelled Scipio into action. Groaning they picked up the wing.

And a few minutes later the white racing boat cast off with Scipio, Prosper, Mosca and a strange wing.

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Two nights later the Angelina was heading with the two sixteen years old to their meeting point in the laguna. As agreed the Star family had released the homer pidgeon Sophia to let their client know that they had retrieved the wing. And Barbarossa had communicated the meeting point, bursting with curiosity and running against a wall in Prosper, who wouldn't tell no matter how much the old man tried to cajole.

The family had puzzled over the fact that the wing was unnaturally warm many times and the general consensus had been to get rid of the wing as fast as possible and to pocket the money.

The wind was blowing warm and softly over the waters of the laguna and caused the waiting Angelina to bob up and down in gentle movements. The cloudless night invited to dream, but the two boys had no sense for romance this very moment. They saw the lights before the engine noise drowned out the quiet pounding of the waves against the boat. And then a larger boat came to a halt next to them and Scipio recognised the face of his client. An old lady, dressed like the man in a hooded cape, stood next to him and looked down on the two boys.

„You've really got it?"

„Sure. What about the money?" Scipio answered shortly.

The old lady chimed up.

„I can hear your cultivated voice; there's no trace of the flat Veneziano. It's obvious; you're from a very good family. You shouldn't be forced to steal…"

"I should expect that my motives are of no concern to you."

Scipio's voice changed from this usual smooth aristocratic Italian to the flat and hard Veneziano, that these days was spoken mostly by simple workers and old people on the other islands of the laguna and that left Prosper still totally stumped and uncomprehending.

"Ya ask'd, we deliver. An' now we wan' th' monee, ollady."

The old woman smiled amused. Who did the boy behind the bird mask try to fool? She had recognised him the moment he had pulled off his mask in the church.

"I think it's time to complete our transaction, gentlemen."

The intense green light of the portside light deformed their faces into eldritch grimaces as the couple bent a bit forward. Scipio nodded and groaning he and Prosper lifted the wing up and handed it over carefully to its new owner.

"Careful, it's extremely heavy."

"Only for those, who don't know its power."

Wide-eyed they saw how the old man took it from them and hold it over his head for a moment before he carried it a few steps like it was just a leaf of paper. They got distracted by the black bag that was given to them by the old lady.

„Your reward."

Prop took the bag and opened it quickly after a glance from Scipio. Lots of wads with blue 20 euro bills were illuminated by the lights of the boats and the moon hanging over them.

„Small bills. Good." Prosper voiced his satisfaction.

"Thief Lord, it's been a pleasure doing business with you. Your services are no longer required."

Suddenly the lights of the larger boat went out. Shadow-like it slowly departed.

„Come on, let's follow them. I want to know who they are." Scipio suggested, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins and tasting the sweetness of victory in his mouth. He turned on the engine and guided by the pale moonlight they followed at a comfortable speed.

But the longer they followed the larger boat in front of them, the more ill at ease Scipio became. He cut off the motor and stared intensely into the night. He looked around. Far away he could see the familiar lights of the city, the mainland and of other smaller inhabited islands like Pellestrina.

"What's wrong, Scipio? Are we lost?"

But Scipio didn't answer. He turned on the engine again and once more they followed slowly the boat that almost had almost completely vanished into the night by now. And once more Scipio turned off the engine of the Angelina to look around. Frowning he stared at the boat to estimate its heading and to compare it with his inner map of the laguna and it's many islands. When he was absolutely sure where the boat was heading to, he turned the Angelina with a heading back to Venice.

„What are you doing? Why are we turning around?"

„I know where they're heading. There's no need to keep following them."

"And where are they heading to?"

„La Isola Segreta." Scipio answered with an indefinable tremble in his voice.