“Creed.” Scout placed a hand on her shoulder. “I admit it, I’m a treasure hunter. Trouble follows me wherever I go. This is nothing new.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him. Most people wouldn’t be so casual about being attacked. Shrugging off her air tank, she bent to remove her flippers. “What do you have against my reporting this to the police?”
“Nothing. Go for it.” Scout’s indifference only made her more suspicious. “I’m just saying encounters with idiots wielding harpoons are to be expected. I go after a treasure, the bottom-feeders follow in hordes.”
“Nice.” Not. She unzipped the wet suit to reveal her skintight tank top beneath. “Let’s call it a day.”
“Swell. You go to the authorities and explain to them we almost saw the guy who did it—did you get a good look at his face? Didn’t think so. Meanwhile, I’ll mark out the map for tomorrow’s dive.”
She glanced at Ian. He shrugged, evidently as baffled by Scout’s disregard as she was.
“You want to get something to eat?” Scout asked.
“I think I’ll head back to the hotel after I’ve been to the police station.” Scout’s comment about her not getting a look at the attacker’s face annoyed her. She didn’t need his attitude. And really, she should have paid closer attention to the bad guy’s features. “Reconvene in the morning? Same canal, same boat?”
“Fine,” Scout said. “Give me your cell number?”
She gave it to him, and he promised to text her his number so she would have it, as well.
Ian packed up his gear, and Annja hung the wet suit in the closet provided belowdecks.
Kard offered Annja and then Ian a beer for the walk to the police station and both refused.
“You think they’re a couple cards short of a full deck?” Ian asked as they strolled down the street.
“Possibly.”
“Nice crew, Annja. I’ll count myself lucky if I come out of this unscathed.”
She winced because she took seriously the safety of those around her. She’d have a proper talk with Kard tomorrow. And she’d keep a much closer eye on Scout. The man could be too adventurous for her own good.
At the police station in San Marco, Tomaso Damiani greeted Annja with a warm smile and welcomed her into his office. The small room held only his desk, two chairs and on the wall a map of the canals. No family photos. No knickknacks.
A new hire? Or was the man so regimented that he couldn’t bother with clutter?
She explained she was in the city on a dive for stolen artifacts. Tomaso was aware of that. The city had forwarded the dive permit Scout Roberts had applied for just this morning.
Pleased that the city was in close contact with the police, Annja detailed the encounter with the mysterious diver in the Fondamenta della Sensa.
“You are sure you did not surprise another who was merely diving?” Tomaso asked as he jotted down the information on a yellow notepad. “Perhaps the harpoon went off during the surprise?”
“Then why would he swim off? Wouldn’t he want to make sure he hadn’t wounded anyone?”
“Yes, of course. That is what we would hope for.” Tomaso ran a hand over his close-cropped dark hair. His narrow face fit with his tall, tight frame. He was young. A wedding ring shone on his sun-tanned hand, but there was no visible tan line beneath. New job, new wife? “Perhaps he was shocked that he had done such a thing. Perhaps not.”
“Who dives beneath Venice with a harpoon in hand?” Annja asked. “It’s not as if the canals are populated with edible fish. Are they?”
“We have much flora and fauna in the canals, Signorina Creed. But the fish are smaller, such as mullets and bullheads. Still, some are edible. We even get the occasional shark in from the sea. Perhaps your harpoon man was pursuing bigger game?”
“Like humans?”
She hadn’t meant it as a joke, but Tomaso chuckled. Then, noticing she didn’t share his humor, he abruptly stopped.
“I take your report very seriously, signorina. There are drainage pipes and tunnels beneath much of our beautiful city. Some are registered. Others lead into private homes and still others may no longer be used.”
“Which is why I didn’t try to break through the gate—I didn’t know if this was a residence.”
Annja realized there really wasn’t a lot the police could do. Might it have been an accident? Possibly. And the man could have been frightened or even ashamed, so he’d fled.
“I appreciate you taking the time to listen to my complaint. I know there’s likely nothing you can do without a description of the man.”
“Unfortunately, that is so. But I am personally eager for you to discover the missing treasure you’ve described. A cross with a possible connection to Leonardo da Vinci?”
“It was likely a gift to him from René d’Anjou.”
“Ah. Our beloved Leonardo. I am so taken with the man. He did so much. And has inspired so many.”
Surprised the man was such an enthusiast of Leonardo’s and of René’s, Annja perked up.
“Details linking Leonardo da Vinci with such a cross and so many other artifacts causes much interest. And sometimes from dangerous people,” he went on.
“I find I’m more of a Leonardo purist myself,” she said. “Though there are academics and art historians who think there was more to his works. But I’m not inclined to search over his paintings or drawings for symbols and clues he may or may not have left in them. His output was so vast. I can only imagine how many European castles and manors are hiding a forgotten da Vinci in the attic or dungeon.”
“Yes, it is an intriguing thing to wonder about. The Renaissance artist was a great genius and I wonder what it might have been like for him if he could have possibly traveled through time.”
“Da Vinci a time traveler?” Now Annja chuckled.
“I know,” Tomaso agreed, “I have a tendency toward the fantastical—it has to be with the books I read. I like the science-fiction novels.” He gave her a warm smile. “Signorina Creed, have you been to Il Genio di Leonardo da Vinci Museo? They’ve re-created dozens of the inventions Leonardo designed. Quite a fascinating study.”
“No, I haven’t been able to do any sightseeing since arriving in Venice, but it sounds like a stop I’ll have to make while I’m here.”
Tomaso stood and shook Annja’s hand. “If there is anything you need from me, do let me know.” He offered her his business card. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Signorina Creed.”
* * *
ANNJA BOUGHT A sandwich on her way to the hotel. Glad she’d gone with the panino instead of the soft-crusted tramezinni, she wondered now if she could eat it all. Calling the huge chunk of bread, cheese and meat a sandwich was like calling the Canal Grande a stream. The prosciutto was so thin she could read through it, and stacked thickly within pillows of fresh mozzarella. She ate half before forcing herself to sit at the desk in her hotel room and power up the laptop for a little research.
She started with the antiquities museum located in Kraków, Poland. It featured artifacts she’d label as sentimentally significant. Annja assumed the Lorraine cross must have fit right in with their collection.
The museum had a history similar to a number of others in Europe