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“Nothing, I just have to tell you all something.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Yes.” Prosper went to wake Mosca, but Hornet held him back. “Wait,tell me first, before you wake the others.”

Prosper looked across at Mosca who had crawled so deep into his blanket that only his short, frizzy hair could be seen. “OK, Riccio knows about it anyway.”

They sat down next to each other on the folding seats, two blankets wrapped around their shoulders.

The movie theater’s heating, just like the lights, didn’t work and the heaters that Scipio had brought them did little to drive the cold from the large auditorium.

Hornet lit two candles. “So?” she asked, giving Prosper an expectant look.

“When Riccio and I were walking back from Barbarossa’s,” Prosper tucked his chin under the blanket,

“I bumped into a man. First he just stared at me in a strange way, but then he started following me. We gave him the slip — and ran toward theGrand Canal and took a vaporetto to the opposite side to get away. But Riccio recognized him. He says the man is a detective. And it looks like he’s after me — after me and Bo.”

“A real detective?”Hornet shook her head in disbelief. “And Riccio’s sure?”

Prosper nodded.

“Yes, but perhaps it’s Riccio he’s after. You know he can’t stop stealing things.”

“No.” Prosper sighed and looked up toward the ceiling where the darkness hung over them like a black cloud. “He was after me. The way he looked at me…he’s going to find us. And my aunt and uncle will probably put me into a boarding school and I’ll get to see Bo once a month, or during the summer and at Christmas.” He felt a sudden wave of sickness clawing at his stomach. He closed his eyes, as if he could keep his fears out of his head that way, but of course it didn’t work.

“That’s nonsense! How is he going to find you here?” Hornet put a comforting hand on Prosper’s shoulder. “Come on, don’t drive yourself crazy.”

Prosper buried his face in his hands. From the back of the auditorium, Riccio muttered something in his sleep.

Prosper pulled himself together. “Just don’t say anything toBo,OK ? Let him go on believing that we’re perfectly safe here. We’ll have to tell Mosca and Scipio, though. After all, you could all get into a lot of trouble if that snoop finds us here …”

“No way!”Hornet rubbed her nose. “This is a perfect hiding place. The very best! Oh rats, I think I’ve caught another cold. Why can’t Scipio steal a better heater for a change, instead of sugar tongs and silver spoons?”

Prosper handed his crumpled handkerchief to her and she gratefully blew her nose.

“Riccio wants to dye Bo’s hair and I’m supposed to paint my face black so that the snoop won’t Page 35

recognize us,” Prosper said.

Hornet gave a quiet laugh. “I think it’ll be enough if I cut your hair really short, but that’s a good idea about Bo’s hair. We’ll just tell him that the old ladies won’t pat his head anymore when his hair is black.”

“Do you think he’ll believe that?”

“Well, if he doesn’t, then Scipio will just have to tell him that he’ll never be a famous thief with his blonde hair. Bo would fly if Scipio asked him to.”

“That’s true.” Prosper smiled, although he felt a small stab of jealousy.

“Scipio will just love the whole detective business.” Hornet shivered and rubbed her arms. “He’ll probably just be disappointed that the man’s not after him. That would be quite an interesting job for a detective, discovering where the Thief Lord sleeps. Maybe he rappels at dawn from the Palazzo Ducale, after having spent the night in some cozy dungeon? Does he sleep in the old piombi prisons, where they let the enemies ofVenice die from heat and fear, or down in the ponti, where they let them rot? You see, I even got a smile out of you!” Looking pleased, Hornet got up and tousled Prosper’s hair. “Tomorrow you’ll get a new hairdo,” she said, “and now stop worrying about that detective.”

Prosper nodded. “So you don’t think …” he asked hesitantly, “that we should leave, Bo and I?”

“Pigeon poop!” Hornet shook her head impatiently. “Why should you? The police have been looking for Riccio forever, and have we thrown him out? No.And what about Scipio? Doesn’t he put us in danger, with his evermore crazy raids?” Hornet pulled Prosper from his seat. “Come on, let’s go to sleep,” she said. “God, the noise Mosca makes with his snoring!”

Prosper undressed again and crawled underneath the blanket, next to Bo. But it took a while before he finally fell asleep.

10 The Message

The next morning Riccio went to Barbarossa to give him the Thief Lord’s answer, just like Scipio had told him.

“He accepts? Good, that will please my customer,” the redbeard said with a self-satisfied smile. “But you will have to be patient. It won’t be easy to get a message to him. He hasn’t even got a telephone.”

For the next two days Riccio returned to Barbarossa’s shop in vain, but on the third day the redbeard Page 36

finally had the news they had been waiting for.

“My customer wants to meet you in the Basilica, the Basilica San Marco,” Barbarossa explained. He was standing in front of the mirror in his office, snipping away at his beard with a tiny pair of scissors.

“The Conte likes to be mysterious, but there are never any problems business-wise. He’s already sold me some very nice pieces, and always at a fair price. Just don’t ask him any nosy questions, understood?”

He swapped the scissors for a pair of tweezers.

“The Conte?”Riccio asked, impressed. “Does that mean he’s a real count or something?”

“Indeed it does. I just hope the Thief Lord behaves accordingly.” Barbarossa looked very self-important before plucking a hair from his nostril. “Once you meet the Conte in person you will see that there can be no doubt as to his distinguished ancestry. To this day he hasn’t told me his name but my guess is he’s a Valaresso. Some members of this venerable family have not been blessed by fate. There has even been talk of a curse.Anyway.” The redbeard moved a little closer to the mirror and tugged at a particularly stubborn hair. “Be that as it may, they are still one of the old families — well, you know, like the Correr, Vendramin, Contarini, Venier, Loredan, Barbarigo, and countless others. They’ve ruled this city for centuries without anyone of us ever really knowing what was going on. Isn’t that right?”

Riccio nodded respectfully. Of course he had heard all the names the redbeard had just so pompously strung out. He knew the palaces and museums that bore their names, but about the people themselves, he knew nothing.

Barbarossa took a step back and smugly inspected his reflection. “So, as I said, just address him as Conte and he’ll be pleased. The Thief Lord will probably get along fine with him. After all, your leader also likes to shroudhimself in mystery.Probably quite a good idea in his line of work, right?”

Riccio nodded once more. He couldn’t wait for the fat man to get back to the point so that he could deliver the news to the others. He shifted impatiently from one foot to the other.”When? When are we supposed to meet him in the Basilica?” he asked as Barbarossa stepped up to the mirror again — this time to pluck his eyebrows.

“Tomorrow afternoon. Three o’clock sharp. The Conte will wait for you in the first confessional on the left. And don’t be late. The man is always very punctual.”

“Fine,” Riccio mumbled. “Three o’clock.Confessional.First left. Three o’clock sharp.” He turned to leave.

“Hold on, hold on, Hedgehog!” Barbarossa waved Riccio back once more. “Tell the Thief Lord the Conte wants to meet him in person. He can bring any companions he likes.Apes, elephants, or even his little children. But he has to come in person. The Conte wants to judge for himself before he tells him anything more about the job. After all,” his face took on a rather hurt expression, “he hasn’t even told me anymore about it.”

That didn’t really surprise Riccio, but the Conte’s condition to meet Scipio made his heart beat faster.

“That, that…”he stammered, “…Sci…the Thief Lord won’t like that at all.”

“Well,” Barbarossa shrugged his fat shoulders, “then he won’t get the job. Have a nice day, boy.”

“Same to you,” Riccio muttered, poking out his tongue at Barbarossa’s back before making his uneasy way home.