"He's turned off the red lantern," Mosca shouted above the din of the engine, "but I can still see the boat."

Giaco grumbled something unintelligible. He held his course as if there were nothing easier than to follow a strange boat in the moonlight.

"Have you counted the money?" Ida asked.

"Sort of," Scipio answered. "There's definitely a lot of it."

"Can I have a look through your binoculars?" Mosca asked.

Ida handed them to him and wrapped her scarf tighter around her head.

"He's making very slow progress, but he'll be out of the bay soon," said Mosca.

"Don't get too close, Giaco!" Ida called forward.

"Don't worry, Signora."

They left the city behind. Soon there was nothing but water and darkness around them. Even though it felt as if they were the only people on the lagoon, they knew they couldn't be. They kept seeing lights appear and disappear in the blackness -- green and red navigation lights, just as on Ida's boat.

But even if the Conte had seen their boat, why would he suspect that they were following him? After all, he had already paid them.

Prosper looked across the water nervously. He and Bo had never been out here, although the others had told them a lot about the lagoon and its islands. Little specks of land hemmed with reeds. Here were the ruins of long-abandoned villages and fortresses, and the fruit and vegetable fields that supplied the city. Some were home to the monasteries and hospitals where the city's sick used to be brought.

The silent Giaco deftly steered the boat past the bricole bricole -- the wooden posts that poked out of the water everywhere. Their sides were painted white to mark the route around the shallows. But they were quite hard to see in the moonlight. -- the wooden posts that poked out of the water everywhere. Their sides were painted white to mark the route around the shallows. But they were quite hard to see in the moonlight.

At one point, Mosca whispered, "That's San Michele!"

They slowly cruised past the walls that surround the island where, for hundreds of years, the Venetians have buried their dead. As soon as he had pa.s.sed this cemetery island, the Conte set a northeasterly course. They left Murano -- the gla.s.smakers' island -- behind them and cruised on, deeper into the maze of islands and gra.s.sy islets.

Prosper felt as if the boat were going to sail on forever. He just hoped that Bo would still be asleep when they got back. Bo would kick up a diabolical fuss if he found out that the others were meeting the Conte, and that Hornet had lulled him to sleep with hot milk and a book so they could sneak away.

"Let me have a look, Mosca." Riccio reached for the binoculars. "How far is that man going to sail? If we go on like this, we'll soon be in Burano and as stiff as deep-frozen chickens."

They went on and on through the darkness. They could all feel themselves getting sleepy, despite the cold. Then Mosca suddenly whistled through his teeth. He knelt down to get a better look. "I think he's heaving to!" he whispered breathlessly. "There! He's sailing toward that island. I have no idea which one it is. Do you recognize it, Signora?"

Ida Spavento took the gla.s.ses and peered through them. Prosper looked over her shoulder. Even without the binoculars he could make out two lanterns on the sh.o.r.e, a high wall, and further back, through a maze of black branches, the outline of a house.

"Madonna, I think I know which island this is!" Ida sounded startled. "Giaco, don't go any closer! Switch off the engine. And the lights." I think I know which island this is!" Ida sounded startled. "Giaco, don't go any closer! Switch off the engine. And the lights."

As the engine died down everything was suddenly very still. Prosper felt like an invisible animal lurking in the dark. He heard the water slapping against the hull and Mosca breathing next to him. And there were voices drifting across the water.

"Yes, that's the one!" Ida whispered. "Isola Segreta, the Secret Isle. There are some really spooky stories about this place. The Valaresso, one of the oldest families of Venice, used to have an estate here, but that was a long time ago. I thought the family had moved away years ago and that the island was deserted. It seems I was wrong."

"Isola Segreta?" Mosca stared at the distant lights. "That's the island where n.o.body ever goes."

"That's right. It's not easy to find a boatman who will bring you there," Ida answered, not taking the binoculars from her eyes. "The island's supposed to be bewitched. Terrible things happen there. It's said n.o.body who's ever visited the Isola Segreta has lived to tell about it. So that's where the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters has ended up, is it?"

"Listen!" Riccio whispered.

The baying of dogs sounded across the water. Loud and threatening.

"That sounds like two dogs!" Mosca whispered. "Big ones."

"Haven't you seen enough yet, Signora?" Riccio's voice sounded shrill. "We've followed the Conte all the way to this darned island. That was our deal. So please tell that silent man there to take us home."

But Ida didn't answer. She was still watching the island through her binoculars. "They're going ash.o.r.e," she said quietly. "Ah, so that's what your Conte looks like. From what you said I imagined him to be older. And there next to him," she lowered her voice even more, "is the woman Scipio told me about. Who are they? Are there still Valaresso on that island?"

Mosca, Prosper, and Scipio were staring at the island just as intently as Ida. Only Riccio was sitting nervously next to the bag with the money. He had fixed his eyes on Giaco's broad back, as if that could rea.s.sure him.

"There's a jetty," Scipio whispered, "and steps leading up the sh.o.r.e toward a gate in the wall."

"Who's that on the wall?" Mosca grabbed Prosper's arm. "I see two white figures."

"Those are statues," Ida said soothingly. "Stone angels. Now they're opening the gate. Wow, those dogs are big."

Even without binoculars the boys could see them. They were huge white mastiffs, as big as calves. Suddenly, as if they had caught a strange scent, they turned to face the water and began to bark so noisily and angrily that Ida jumped and dropped her binoculars. Prosper tried to grab them, but they slipped through his fingers and landed in the water with a loud splash.

The sound cut through the night like a gunshot.

Riccio pressed his hands against his ears while all the others ducked. Only Giaco remained steadily behind the wheel. "They've heard us, Signora!" he said calmly. "They're looking over here."

"Oh my G.o.d!" Ida shouted. "Keep your heads down. You too, Giaco! I think she has a gun!"

"Oh no!" Mosca moaned, pulling his jacket over his head.

Riccio had curled up on the floor with the money bag. "But we all glow in the dark like moon cheese. I told you this was a stupid idea. I said we should turn around."

"Riccio, shut up!" Scipio yelled at him.

The mastiffs were barking ever more furiously. A woman's voice could also be heard now, clearly angry -- and then a shot. When he saw the flash of the gun, Prosper ducked and pulled Scipio down with him. Riccio began to sob.

"Giaco!" Ida's voice sounded sharp. "Turn around. Now!"

Without a word, Giaco started the engine.

"But what about the merry-go-round?" Scipio wanted to get up, but Prosper pulled him down again.

"The merry-go-round can't bring back the dead!" Ida shouted. "More speed, Giaco! And you, Thief Lord, keep your head down!"

The engine roared and the water splashed into the boat as Giaco left the Isola Segreta behind them. Soon it grew smaller and smaller, until it was swallowed by the night.

"That was close!" Ida said while she tried to pull her scarf back over her ears. "I'm sorry I talked you into this madness. Giaco, why didn't you stop me?"

"n.o.body can stop you, Signora!" Giaco answered without even turning around.

"Doesn't matter," said Mosca. "At least we've got the money."

Scipio, however, just stared with a bleak expression at the foaming path left behind by the boat.

"Come on, just forget about it," Prosper said, giving him a nudge. "I would've liked to see the merry-go-round as well, but it really doesn't matter."

"It's there!" Scipio looked at him. "I'm sure it's there."

"If you say so," Riccio threw in, "but why don't we count our money." Since Prosper and Scipio made no move to help, Mosca and Riccio got to work. They were still counting as the lights of the city began to glitter across the water.

Only when Giaco steered the boat back into the Sacca della Misericordia did they finally zip up the bag. "Seems to be all there," said Mosca. "More or less. All these notes are difficult to count."

"Good." Ida sighed. "Then I'll drop you by your boat. I do hope you have a warm place to sleep. Say h.e.l.lo to the little one from me, Prosper -- and the girl too. I ..." She wanted to say more, but Riccio interrupted her as if he had to say something fast, before it burned his lips. "Scipio's going somewhere else. Perhaps you can take him home."

Prosper hung his head in embarra.s.sment. Mosca played intently with the buckles of the bag and avoided Scipio's eyes.

"Of course." Ida turned to Scipio. "The ceasefire is over. Do you want to go back to the Accademia Bridge where I picked you up, Thief Lord?"

Scipio shook his head. "Fondamenta Bollani," he said quietly. "If that's OK."

We're not together anymore, Prosper thought sadly. He tried to recall the anger, the disappointment he had felt when he had first discovered that Scipio had lied to them. But all he could see now was Scipio's pale face, his look of misery, and the tight lips -- probably holding back the tears.

Ida seemed to sense all this tension. "Fine! Giaco, first to the boat and then to the Fondamenta Bollani!" she said quickly.

The snow started to fall again as they entered the ca.n.a.l where they had left Mosca's boat. It was a light snow. Tiny snowflakes drifted across the water. Ida got one of them in her eye and started to blink. "Now that the wing's gone," she said, "I'll probably be staring at the blank wall above my bed all night. I'll be asking myself whether it has really returned to the lion's back, and who the mysterious Conte and the gray-haired woman really are." She tightened her coat around herself. "It's safer to think about these things in a warm bed."

Mosca's boat was swaying gently in the water right where they had left it. A cat had settled on the wooden bench. She jumped ash.o.r.e as soon as she heard the motorboat approaching.

"Buonanotte!" Ida said as Prosper, Riccio, and Mosca climbed aboard their own boat. "Come and visit me sometime. Don't wait until you're all grown-up and I don't recognize you anymore. And if you ever need any help, let me know. Don't tell me -- you're rich now, but you never know." Ida said as Prosper, Riccio, and Mosca climbed aboard their own boat. "Come and visit me sometime. Don't wait until you're all grown-up and I don't recognize you anymore. And if you ever need any help, let me know. Don't tell me -- you're rich now, but you never know."

"Thanks!" Mosca mumbled. He pushed the bag under his arm. "That's really nice. Really!"

The two of them were already climbing aboard when Prosper turned to Scipio again. The Thief Lord sat there, his face averted, staring up at the dark houses. "You can come and pick up your share anytime, Scip," Prosper said.

For a moment, he thought Scipio wouldn't answer. But then he looked up. "I will," he said. "Say h.e.l.lo to Bo and Hornet from me." Then he turned and left.

33 Just a Note

"Brrr, it's freezing!" Riccio whispered when they finally stood in front of the movie theater's emergency exit. He groped for the string next to the door, but then he paused, startled. "Hey, look at that! The door's not locked." With his foot he carefully pushed it open.

"Maybe Hornet was afraid the bell wouldn't wake her up," Mosca said.

The other two nodded, but were still uneasy as they felt their way down the dark corridor.

The auditorium was so silent that they could hear Bo's kittens playing around in the dark.

"What's the matter?" Mosca whispered. "Hornet's forgotten to put out the candles. Remember how she freaked out the last time that happened?"

"She was probably too scared to get up in case Bo woke up -- imagine the fuss he would have made."

Riccio crept up to Hornet's mattress. It was the one farthest to the left, right by the wall. "They're not here."

"What do you mean?" Prosper stumbled over to the mattress he shared with Bo. Nothing but crumpled blankets and pillows. No Bo.

"They're hiding!" Mosca said. "Hey, Hornet, Bo!" he called. "Come out now. We're not in the mood for playing. You can't imagine how cold it is outside. We just want to get into our blankets."

"That's right!" Riccio shouted. "But first you can have a look at the piles of money we've brought with us. What do you say?"

There was no answer. Not a giggle or a rustle. Prosper remembered the unlocked door. He felt like someone was slowly squeezing the breath out of him.

Riccio knelt down by Hornet's mattress. "There's a note."

Prosper yanked the piece of paper from Riccio's fingers.

Concerned, Mosca leaned over his shoulder. "What does it say?"

"It's hard to read. She must have been in a real hurry." Prosper shook his head in despair. The writing swam in front of his eyes.

Someone at the door.

Maybe police.

Meet you at the emergency meeting point.

Hornet Prosper stared at the note.

"Darn! I knew it. Why didn't you listen to me?" Riccio kicked down the book piles, one by one. "How could you trust that snoop? He betrayed us."

Prosper lifted his head. Riccio was right. Only Victor could have given away the Star-Palace. Without another word, Prosper stuffed Hornet's note into his pocket and started rummaging like mad through the pillows.

"What are you looking for?" Mosca asked him. Prosper didn't answer. When he got up again, he had a gun in his hand. The gun he had taken out of Victor's pocket.

"Put that thing away, Prop!" Mosca stepped in his way. "We don't know for sure whether he ratted on us."

"Who else could it have been?" Prosper put the gun in his jacket and pushed past Mosca. "I'm going. He'll definitely tell us whether it was him or not, once he's got his own gun in his face."

"Easy!" Mosca tried to hold him back. "First we're going to the meeting point."

"And where's that?" Prosper was shaking all over. He felt as if his legs were going to give way at any moment.

"It's the Book Man, on the Campo Morosini."

Prosper nodded. "Fine, let's go! What are you waiting for?"

"But what are we going to do with the money?" Riccio asked "And our things. They're no longer safe here."

"We'll take the money," Mosca answered impatiently. "We can get the other stuff later. There's nothing valuable here. And maybe it's a false alarm anyway."

Mosca hid the money they had left from their last deal with Barbarossa under his jacket while Riccio took the Conte's bag. They looked around once more, not sure whether they would ever come back. Then they put out all the candles and left the movie theater.