The Venice Job by Deborah Abela

Author:Deborah Abela
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Australia
Published: 2005-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

‘The campanile or bell tower of St Mark’s is ninety-one metres high and was built between 874 and 1150. It had been a watchtower and lighthouse for over one thousand years until it collapsed in 1902.’ The tour guide droned out his spiel as if he’d been doing it for over one thousand years. ‘No-one was hurt, not even a pigeon, and of course afterwards it was rebuilt.’

The four spies had met outside the bell tower in the wide square of Piazza San Marco and had joined a tour group in order to stay incognito.

‘What did Agent 31 say?’ Toby whispered as they followed at the back of the group.

‘Satellite pictures have shown something strange about the clay beds beneath Venice, and we have to go diving tonight to investigate,’ Max answered.

‘Excellent.’

Max stared at Toby. Excellent?

‘Luca, you’re to stay in the boat with the computer and direct us by our radios,’ she continued.

Luca could tell she wasn’t happy about the dive. ‘I can go for you, if you like.’

Max wilted momentarily at his accent. ‘Thanks but Agent 31 wants you by the computer to help with directions and translation.’

‘There are five bells in the tower,’ the guide continued in his couldn’t-care-less voice. ‘Each one has a different purpose. This one is called the maleficio, and signalled that there was to be an execution.’

‘What does 31 think is down there?’ Toby whispered.

‘Possibly bombs, but he isn’t sure, that’s why we have to dive.’

Each time Max said ‘dive’ it was like being dunked in an icy bath.

‘Why do we have to dive anyway?’ she complained. ‘Couldn’t they find out some other way?’

There was a longer than normal pause. Max looked up to see the tour guide staring at her.

‘Am I boring you?’ he asked in a bored voice.

‘No. I love bells. Who doesn’t love bells?’

The guide sniffed and turned to talk about the other bells.

Luca smiled and whispered into Max’s ear, ‘I don’t think he likes us.’

‘It doesn’t matter if he likes us,’ Max said indignantly. ‘What’s important is that we act like tourists and don’t do anything that attracts attention.’

She tripped on a cobblestone and fell forward into the group causing a domino effect as one by one each tourist fell forward until finally the tour guide fell into the bell, ringing out the executioner’s signal of the maleficio for all of Venice.

‘Mi scusi,’ Max said in some of the few words of Italian she knew. ‘Mi scusi, mi scusi.’

‘Did she say attract or not attract attention?’ Toby sniggered to Linden.

The tour group glared at Max from the floor as Luca helped her up.

‘I think this is where your tour ends,’ the guide seethed. The tour group picked themselves up, dusted themselves down and followed a limping tour guide as he led them out of the tower.

Toby looked through the window arches of the tower and down into the Piazza. The sky had swirled from cloudless blue into a grey bulging mass. The wind had picked up and prickled with a

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