Snowfall in Venice

Banco San Paolo

BANCO SAN PAOLO

The Christmas festivities were finally over, and several days had passed by with no mention of the reward. Gayle and I were starting to wonder if The Don had changed his mind when Carlos told us The Don wanted to see us in his office.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable. I apologize for not talking to you sooner, but several matters needed to be arranged first." We took our usual seats in front of the large desk and waited.

Don Benedetti lit another cigar. "Tomorrow, Carlos will drive us to the ferry, and we'll go to the Banco San Paolo. We will take the safety box key and our euro note. Roberto Farina will join us. He is the leading evaluator in Venice."

I looked at Gayle and smiled. It was finally happening as the Don had promised.

Benedetti continued. "It occurred to me that it would be impractical for you to try and take the contents of the deposit box back to the USA in physical form. Roberto will assess the contents and determine a total value in US dollars. We will then have a certified check made out for the amount. This check will be payable to your newly formed charity. By doing this, you will not be liable for any USA taxation."

We shook hands and returned to our suite in a state of high excitement. Finally, after all this time and worry, we would be on the way back to New York in a matter of days. We were both looking forward to reuniting with friends and family, although we knew everyone would be shocked to find out we were still alive.

"I can hardly believe it, Mark, with the Benedetti donation we have a good chance of getting our new charity off the ground. Do you have any idea how much it might be?"

"Honey, I haven't got a clue. But from the hermit's description of the stolen treasure, I wouldn't be surprised if it was over a hundred thousand dollars. Maybe, even more."

The gray skies and pouring rain the next morning didn't dampen our spirits. We joined The Don and Angelina for breakfast, chatting happily over coffee until we heard Carlos report that the limo was ready. Angelina was not joining us on the trip to the Banco San Paolo because young Pietro had called and asked her to join him for lunch.

When the small water taxi from Murano arrived in Venice, Carlos jumped out first and assisted Don Benedetti and Gayle up the stone steps to the wharf. The waiting limo quickly took us to the Piazza San Marco location of the imposing Banco San Paolo.

Once inside the bank, Don was an imposing sight. He wore a long black cape and a top hat and was carrying his recently repaired silver-tipped walking stick. He strode in a straight line across the marble floor, heading directly for the manager's office. As he forged past the receptionist's desk, she jumped to her feet to stop him.

"Excuse me, sir. You can't go back there without an appointment."

The Don just glared at her and continued with us trailing in his wake. He pushed open the door without knocking and entered. A small thin man, wearing a starched white shirt and a pin-striped suit was sitting at the massive desk, working on some papers.

Benedetti stared at the man and then rapped the desk with his walking stick. "Who the hell are you? Where is Angelo Cavallo, the manager?"

The man jumped to his feet. The young receptionist may not have known who this important customer was, but the flustered assistant manager certainly did.

"Oh, excuse me, Don Benedetti, I had no idea you were coming to our offices today. My name is Gino Durante. I am the assistant manager. I'm filling in for signore Cavallo while he is enjoying an extended Christmas holiday with his family in Bermuda."

The receptionist came to the door to announce that a signore Roberto Farina had arrived, looking for Don Benedetti. The Don smiled. "Good, my evaluator has arrived. We can now get started."

The Don turned to the assistant manager and threw the one half of the five euro note on the desk. "You have a deposit box registered in the name of Antonio Fontana. I have with me the key. You will now open the box and then leave us in privacy."

Durante, the assistant manager, was frightened. "With all due respect Don Benedetti, if the box is registered to Antonio Fontana, it would not be proper to open it without his presence."

Benedetti glared at the frightened man. "Fontana is dead. He left his estate to me. Now, take us to the box."

The assistant typed the serial number of the euro note into his computer. "Si, Don Benedetti, we have a confirmed match. The safety deposit box is #888."

Moments later, we all assembled in the safety deposit box vault. Box #888 was massive. The stainless-steel front showed two distinct keyholes. Gino Durante inserted the key held by the bank into the first slot and then left the room. Don Benedetti, with a flourish, inserted the key engraved with a C into the other slot. He hesitated and turned to Gayle.

"This key has rested safely in the base of the Madonna statue for many years. I believe it is only fitting that it be finally used by another Madonna." He handed the key to Gayle.

Gayle took the key with trembling hands and softly kissed Don Benedetti on the cheek. Roberto Farina moved closer in anticipation of the first sight of the items he was expected to value for The Don.

I held Gayle by one hand as she inserted the key and opened the outer door of the box. Inside was a closely fitted steel container, almost as large as the safety deposit box itself. Carlos removed the container and placed it on the examining table in the center of the room.

On a whim, Gayle said, "For good luck, why don't we all open the box together? Everyone put a hand on the top. I will count to three and then we open the lid."

The Don thought this was a good idea. He placed his hand on the container, as did Gayle and myself. Carlos and Roberto Farina abstained.

Gayle had a big smile on her face. She was thinking of the bright new future for the children's charity that would result from the contents of this box. She slowly counted to three, and we lifted the lid together.

The color left my face, and Don Benedetti looked like he was going to have a stroke. The safety deposit box on the table in front of him was empty, except for an envelope that lay waiting on the bottom of the container. The yellowing edges of the envelope indicated that the paper was quite old. It was addressed to Don Benedetti. I recognized the handwriting---------It was identical to the writing on the hermit's last confession.