| Subject: 'Carnival' - Part Four |
Author:
Daenar
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Date Posted: 14:37:32 07/24/02 Wed
In reply to:
Daenar
's message, "'Carnival' - Part Three" on 14:34:47 07/24/02 Wed
‘Carnival’ – Part Four
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
From part three:
“Okay, Harm, Mac, you’ve done a great job, really. You can get on the motorboat now and I’ll take the gondola back home,” Fred told them.
Mac laid her row down inside the gondola and sat down, rubbing her aching back. This sailor of hers owed her big time, she decided. Harm put his row down, too, and sighed, closing his eyes with relief. That was a mistake. He missed an incoming wave, failed to flex his knees, lost his balance and, with an “aaah” and a loud splash, ended up in the canal.
He was swearing loudly when Fred brought the motorboat over to rescue him. Suddenly Mac was beginning to feel that this trip had been fun after all. Especially when Claire, with a wink, showed her the red “recording” light on her camera.
___________________________________________________________________________
The next day
0815 ZULU
Hotel Bartolini
Near the Arsenale
Castello, Venice
Mac thought she was pretty much awake and feeling quite well for having rowed a gondola for hours in the cold mist of last night. She was crouched comfortably in a corner at a small breakfast table down in Bartolini’s breakfast room, slowly sipping her latte macchiato, feeling the warm liquid warm her up from inside, closing her eyes and savoring the unique flavor of fresh Italian coffee.
She looked up when she heard someone clear his throat beside her. Harm was pulling up a chair to her side, giving her half a grin. Mac could tell he still hadn’t quite overcome his anger that had built up last night when she, out of her exhaustion, had begun to laugh heartily at his expense. But seeing Harm end up in the canal had been a picture for the gods. Even now Mac could hardly suppress a giggle at the memory. Her mouth twitched traitorously and Harm’s half-smile immediately turned into a frown. Mac thought she better change the subject.
“Fifteen minutes today, squid,” she stated, smiling, only to mentally slap herself milliseconds later as she saw exasperation and new anger flash up in his eyes. ‘Great job, Marine, you should go and be a diplomat.’
“Good morning to you, too,” Harm answered, his voice guarded, avoiding her eyes. ‘One singular, glorious day, Marine...’ he swore to himself. This internal clock of hers and her way of always, always getting back at him was beginning to very much get on his nerves. Not to mention last night’s events. With a grunt he ordered a cappuccino and silently stared out of the window.
Mac’s conscience started to stir. Harm sure had been in a pitiful state when they had finally reached their hotel last night. All wet, exposed to the freezing night wind, he had been shivering violently at their arrival, though always trying not to let it show. Mac began to repent her behavior towards him. She had been laughing all the time, new fits breaking through her efforts of containing herself every time he looked up at her. She became aware that she had totally ignored the fact that he had been freezing like hell and must have felt horrible. Now Mac realized that she was blushing, ashamed of herself, and a feeling of warm compassionate tenderness towards her partner began to well up inside her. If he’d only look in her direction. Then he would see her smile.
But Harm didn’t. He kept staring out of the window, frowning, absent-mindedly sipping his cappuccino. Suddenly he put his cup down, quickly lunged into his pocket, just in time pulled out a handkerchief and sneezed. Frowning even more, he blew his nose, put the handkerchief away and turned his gaze out of the window again. Mac watched him more thoroughly. He was a little pale, she thought. He wasn’t going to be ill, was he? Concern mixed with her bad conscience and made her feel even more uneasy.
‘You love that man and behave like a bitch, Sarah,’ she scolded herself. ‘Maybe you just don’t deserve him.’ As this conclusion sank into her mind, she felt her stomach tighten and suddenly couldn’t enjoy her latte any more. She had screwed it up this time. Without thinking she reached out to the man sitting beside her, from behind put her arms around his shoulders and gently hugged him. “I’m sorry, flyboy,” was all she said, as she let her head rest against his hair, feeling him tense at her touch.
Harm all but choked on his cappuccino when he suddenly felt Mac wrap her arms around him. Unsure how to react, he froze in his position, his heart doubling its beating rate. This wasn’t a hug between friends. Mac’s touch was tender and... loving? Well, maybe not, but there was an emotional dimension to her simple gesture that left him breathless. He felt her breath on the back of his neck as she just held him without moving, waiting for him to relax, waiting for... what exactly? Maybe just for a sign of his forgiveness. ‘Never apologize. It’s a sign of weakness,’ she had said to him on the admiral’s porch. Yet she had just done it. Harm knew, the only way to react would be to let her know that he forgave her. Deep inside he had long since, anyway.
He slowly exhaled and forced his pulse down to almost normal. Then he put his cup down, and, his arms crossed, reached for her hands that were resting on his chest. He had been angry, yes, but he couldn’t be any longer. All the compassion he would have longed for yesterday night when he had felt so cold and bad, all the compassion she had denied him then was now flowing through this simple, sincere embrace. Harm remembered few times his heart had felt so much at ease.
Mac sensed the change of attitude in her partner. She felt him relax, lean into her embrace, no longer enduring but returning it. A wave of relief washed over her. All of a sudden she realized what compromising and private a situation they were sharing in public – and, utterly surprising to herself, she didn’t mind. The only thing that mattered to her was that Harm still seemed to want her friendship, didn’t mind her closeness either. So Mac just held on to him.
“I was way out of line, yesterday. Please forgive me,” she whispered, not trusting her voice.
She didn’t see but felt him smile. “Being angry with you feels horrible, Sarah,” he answered very low. “I couldn’t keep it up very long anyway.” With that he pulled her arms tighter around himself, staying in this position for some never-ending seconds, still not looking at her. But their eyes weren’t needed right now.
From behind his counter a little farther off Sergio was watching them. “Datta is ‘de influence offa Venezia,” he muttered to himself, chuckling under his breath and shaking his head.
“So, what’s today’s schedule?” Harm asked, carefully wriggling out of the embrace and facing a very embarrassed Mac with a genuine smile that eased the tension.
“Chegwidden’s been up very early, leaving the hotel when I came down for breakfast,” Mac answered, returning to her latte macchiato, a reflection of her smile still on her face. “He’s gone to the airport to pick up Francesca. Tonight’s the night, remember?”
“What night?” Harm searched his brain but couldn’t make out what she was referring to.
“Un ballo in maschera,” Mac pompously cited the title of Giuseppe Verdi’s famous opera. “The costume ball.”
This time Harm did choke on his cappuccino. He had completely forgotten about it. To be honest, he didn’t feel too comfortable at the thought of having to dress up strangely and promenade himself in front of other oddly-clad people. He coughed, trying desperately to regain an even breathing. Damn, he must have caught a cold last night. Hopefully it would fully develop only in a few days when they’d be on their way back to Washington.
“Easy, sailor,” he felt Mac’s hand on his back and looked up, seeing concern shine in her eyes.
“It’s nothing,” he managed to get out before coughing again. “Really,” he added, panting, when the need to cough had somewhat lessened.
“I can see that. Practice drinking.” Mac’s voice was full of doubt but she let him get away this time.
“So what do we do about our costumes?” Harm finally asked.
“The admiral told me Francesca wants to meet me at a certain shop at 1130. We’re to try on something and hire our outfits there. You and Chegwidden are to be there at 1300. Francesca said the dress code was...” Mac explained but Harm interrupted her.
“Dress code? With costumes?” His expression was one of pure bewilderment.
Mac had to smile. “Yeah, squid, dress code, like ‘black tie’ or ‘mess dress’. As I was saying, the dress code for tonight is ‘costumes of a certain official grandeur, no masks worn permanently, only to be carried on sticks.’ Fit for ballroom action, you see?”
“I’m getting the picture,” Harm said cautiously.
“Francesca seems to have something in mind for us. But she insists on me trying it on separately. Chegwidden tells me, Francesca says it’s more fun when you don’t know your partner’s costume until you leave for the event,” Mac explained.
“Okay...” Harm’s voice didn’t sound too convinced. “Well, while you’re enjoying yourself, I’m going with Fred and De Carlo and our two heroes to look for that witness of theirs. If they are right and someone can testify to having seen them at a favorable time out on the canal the charges might just be dropped... and in addition to that there’s the proof we give them with our little videotape,” he added, with a frowning smile, looking into her eyes.
Mac tried. She tried really hard. But eventually the corners of her mouth would twitch, her lips would start to quiver and biting them wouldn’t help. And all control was lost when she saw a grin slowly spread across her partner’s face, widening ever more until he, too, could barely contain himself. They shared one last look into each other’s eyes before they burst out laughing at the same moment, Harm having a hard time as fits of coughing mixed into his laughter, but enjoying the situation all the same.
1056 ZULU
On the Grand Canal
Near Palazzo Grassi
San Marco, Venice
“I’m really amazed that word hasn’t leaked out to the press yet,” Harm said, turning to Fred and De Carlo who were standing beside him on the police boat. Merriner and Quinn were standing in front of them, skimming the houses and trying to recognize the window that might belong to their witness.
“When we called Della Rosa about ‘de body and ‘de fact ‘dat we suspected ‘de American sailors, he told us to keep it confidential and only give ‘de newspapers ‘de fact ‘dat a girl had drowned in a canal,” De Carlo explained. “You know, it happens too often in carnival time when people drink and fall in ‘de water. So it was quite easy to conceal ‘de rest ‘dat would surely have created a scandal, had it leaked out to ‘de public. ‘De parents, too, were glad to have a way of not having to deal wit’ ‘de press.”
“I’m sure they were,” Harm agreed quietly, “Thank you, Amedeo.”
De Carlo smiled. “You’re welcome. By ‘de way,” he added smugly with a quick side-glance at Fred who was smirking, “’De lieutenant told me of your little stunt of last night. I’m impressed, Harm. I wouldn’t have ‘tought of ‘dat solution. ‘Dough it would be helpful to have some’ting besides ‘de video and ‘de witness’s testimony if we find him.”
“It would definitely be nice having other evidence in our people’s favor,” Harm admitted, “I had thought of that, too, but for the time being what we have or might find now might just work. At least I hope so.”
“So do I,” De Carlo agreed, “Al’dough it would leave me wid’out a clue about who really killed ‘de girl.”
“Maybe we should look for those guys Merriner and Quinn met at the bar, sir,” Fred suggested.
“I had thought about that, too,” Harm said, “But they were in full costume. How could we ever trace them?”
Quinn seemed to have overheard their exchange. He turned and looked at Harm. “Excuse me, sir, but maybe that strange mask of one of them might lead us somewhere. I really didn’t see a second one like that.”
Harm thought for a moment, then turned to Fred. “Would that be possible, Lieutenant?”
Prumetti hesitated. “Maybe it would, sir. Depends on the mask. If it really is that unique we might find someone who recognizes it from a description and maybe even knows its owner. But such masks are very rare.” He addressed Quinn. “What was it like, Seaman?”
“As I told Cmdr. Rabb, it seemed like you could wear it upside down and make it change from happy to angry by doing so. And the color was some kind of deep purple, sir,” Quinn answered.
Fred looked at Harm, surprise written all over his face. “Sir, we might just be more lucky than investigators usually deserve to be,” he said and then turned back to the astonished seaman. “Maybe the guy with that particular mask was wearing a black cloak and a triangular hat?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Quinn said slowly.
“But the hat maybe wasn’t all black?” Fred went on. Harm and De Carlo exchanged a puzzled glance. Harm then felt a hearty sneeze crawl up inside his nose, turned and grabbed his handkerchief.
“Bless you!” four voices chorused.
“Thanks,” came a muffled voice from behind white linen.
Quinn tried hard to remember any details, when Merriner suddenly turned to Fred. “As you mention it, sir, in fact the hat wasn’t all black. I had forgotten about that but now I remember. It was black but it had lace attached to it, in the same strange color of the mask. And the cloak, too, around the collar.”
“Strike!” Fred exclaimed under his breath, making a fist. “I’m sorry, sir,” he added immediately, remembering where he was and with whom.
Harm suppressed a grin. “Did you find out anything, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. I know the guy. His name is Antonio Calvi, and he is a capo seconda classe, a petty officer second class. He works at the Scuola Navale Militare Morosini, the Navy High School, that’s called collegio here – college,” Fred explained.
“È sicuro, Tenente?” De Carlo asked with upraised eyebrows. [Are you sure, Lieutenant?]
“Quite sure,” Prumetti reassured him. “That costume of his is a very old one from Naples. He inherited it from his grandfather, I think, and would show it to everyone but never lend it to anybody. It’s got to be him.”
“Well, Amedeo, I guess you just got your hint,” Harm smirked and got a confident smirk in return.
“Sir” Quinn interrupted him, “That’s the window. Up there was the guy who called out to us.” He indicated a rather small window high up under the roof of one of the Palazzi. De Carlo immediately told the driver to pull to the shore and let them disembark. They found the entrance which, luckily, was not locked and climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. Harm blew his nose that slowly started to turn red and then rang the doorbell that they estimated should be the right one. A short, thin old man opened the door and stared at the two military officers that were standing before him.
“Ci scusi, Signor... Ferraresi,” Fred began, taking a quick look at the name tag. [Excuse us, Mr.... Ferraresi.] “Sono il Sottotenente di Vascello Prumetti e questi sono il Capitano di Fregata Rabb della Marina Americana e il Commissario De Carlo della Polizia. Potremmo farLe alcune domande, per favore?” [I’m Lt. j.g. Prumetti and these are Cmdr. Rabb of the U.S. Navy and Police Agent De Carlo. Could we please ask you a few questions?]
The old man’s expression oscillated between frightened and curious. “Certo. Entrate, per favore.” He opened the door and let them in. [Of course. Come in, please.]
Harm, with a gesture and a wink, made Fred understand that he would let him do all the talking. If they started to translate every sentence he said the situation would get confusing. Fred introduced Merriner and Quinn and then asked Ferraresi if he had seen them on the gondola. He had. When had that been? Shortly after 2400, because Ferraresi remembered having heard the Campanile toll midnight as he lay in his bed. And only minutes after having turned off the lights, he had heard loud voices out on the canal, shouting something in a foreign language that could have been English. Ferraresi now took a close look at the two uncomfortable young men and then nodded.
“Sono loro. Era incredibile che rumore facevano a quell’ora,” he stated. [It’s them. It was unbelievable what noise they were making at that late hour.]
“He definitely identifies them, sir,” Fred said to Harm.
“Ask him if he would be ready to testify in court,” Harm replied.
Fred translated the question and Ferraresi consented, obviously pleased that such behavior would be punished properly. The officers didn’t feel the immediate need to correct his picture of the situation. They thanked him and left.
Down on the street, Harm looked at his watch and jumped. 1248. He would be late again. But he couldn’t help it, he realized, sighing and again quickly pulling out his handkerchief to prepare for the next sneeze. Fred had described him where he would have to go to find the shop Mac had told him of. He only hoped he would find it and not lose precious time to the insane urban geography of Venice.
“So Claire and I will see you at the ball tonight, sir?” Fred asked.
“Count on it, Lieutenant,” Harm answered more lightly than he was feeling towards the event. “What about you, Amedeo?” he asked the commissario.
De Carlo smiled. “I wouldn’t miss ‘de opportunity to get a good laugh at ‘de Venetian high society’s expense,” he said enigmatically. Harm didn’t feel this remark succeeded in cheering him up.
1204 ZULU
Venier Abbigliamento Costumi [Venier’s Costumes]
Near Frari Church
San Polo, Venice
The woman that looked back at her from the mirror was a real beauty. Mac watched herself in awe. Francesca stood at her side, grinning, obviously content with her choice and work, and herself looking stunning, too. They would make quite a pair of princesses tonight, Mac felt, a dazzling wave of anticipation running through her veins as she imagined how Harm might react on seeing them. Seeing her, his partner, turned into a noblewoman...
Mac knew she should have undressed long since. Harm was late but Chegwidden was already waiting outside and even Harm could happen to arrive any minute. But she hadn’t been able to tear her eyes from her reflection in the mirror. The change was too amazing. With a deep heartfelt sigh she let her eyes once again wander over the dress and then turned and stepped into the changing room, not seeing the knowing glance Francesca and the shop owner were exchanging.
When she left the shop, the precious dress carefully wrapped in a huge parcel, Harm had arrived and was still panting, trying to blow his nose. She winked at him and made a movement as if she were checking her watch. Harm rolled his eyes heavenward but flashed her one of his dashing smiles that always made her knees weaken. ‘Yesterday he wouldn’t have stayed so calm at my teasing,’ she mused, ‘Maybe this morning something between us changed for the good.’ And she had to collect all of her Marine strength to banish the thoughts that were trying to invade her mind at the recollection of their embrace. ‘Stay calm, Marine, you can handle this,’ she kept telling herself.
Harm was curious. His heart had skipped a beat when he had seen Mac step out of the shop. Her cheeks were flushed as if she were excited about something and her eyes seemed to have a little extra sparkle. Not to mention the smile that was lighting up her face from inside. ‘She is so beautiful,’ he thought once again, longing to gather her into his arms but resisting the urge. He, too, remembered vividly the unexpected moment of intimate tenderness they had shared that morning. And the memory made his stomach go crazy.
“Been successful, jarhead?” he asked lightly.
Mac beamed at him and Harm thought he was going to lose himself in those eyes of hers. “Yep. Just wait and see, squid.” She gave him a wink and, saluting the admiral, left to walk to their hotel. Harm thought she was more hovering than walking.
“Commander!” AJ thundered.
Harm jumped, realizing that he must have missed his C.O. addressing him more than once. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry, sir,” he stuttered.
AJ couldn’t help smiling. After all, he had been waiting for so many years now to see his ‘children’ get together, chain of command or not, they would work out a way. If only Rabb had the guts to tell her!
“You’ll see her soon, son,“ he said to a blushing Harm. “Now let’s get to business.” He took the uncomfortable commander by the arm and they entered the shop.
Francesca greeted Harm warmly but with nothing but friendly intentions. She had been briefed by AJ that her task might be more like helping those two officers of his work things out between them. At first she had felt a slight pang of disappointment, having to think of Harm only as a friend, but when AJ had told her just what Harm and Mac had been through since Francesca had last met them, she had decided that bringing them together was a mission worth partaking in.
“So, daughter, what do you think you’ll do to us?” AJ asked, obviously not being all too enthusiastic, either, at the prospect of having to go out in costume.
“I thought you might feel more at ease if you went as yourselves, sort of,” Francesca explained. “As Mac and I chose to wear Napoleonic Empire style, Signor Venier procured the fitting things for you two. You’ll be just perfect,” she said, grinning with anticipation. She opened the curtain of one of the small dressing rooms and took out two Royal British Navy uniforms of the 1810’s, white knee-long trousers with white silk stockings, navy blue uniform jackets with golden epaulettes, two for AJ who also had other rank insignia attached to his jacket, and only one epaulette on the right shoulder for Harm, representing his current rank. Much to Harm and AJ’s dismay they would have to wear slippers - Francesca wouldn’t listen to their pleas for boots. Mess dress in those days would mean slippers, she explained, and there was no way of going to a ball with riding boots. The black capes and the Napoleonic covers were cute, though. And they would have real sabers. Harm and AJ exchanged a look, grinned, shrugged and went to change.
When they stepped out of the changing rooms they looked at each other, shared a hearty laugh, but then scrutinized themselves all over again in the mirror and suddenly found they didn’t look too bad after all. And those slippers were surprisingly comfortable. ‘A good career and comfortable shoes,’ Harm thought, smiling to himself. ‘Maybe tonight I’ll be courageous enough to talk to my nice girl, too.’
“You look just great, both of you,” Francesca stated, admiring the two tall men. “All the Italian ladies will get wild about you,” she added with a wink.
Harm didn’t care about the Italian ladies. He just looked at the reflection of the British navy officer that stared back at him from the mirror, hoping he would make a worthy companion for a certain Marine who would surely be the most stunning woman of the whole assembly.
To be continued...
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