The Plague Doctor's Daughter

28. Matteo

By the time they had circumvented the harbor, both Matteo and Giovanna's breathing was ragged from the effort and their cloaks were damp thanks to the gently falling rain.

"What now?" she asked as they huddled behind a barrel on the corner of an adjacent building, which gave a perfect view of the ship from the opposite angle. "They're still loading. Surely we can't go inside."

Matteo nodded toward the back of the warehouse. "There," he said, focusing on a tall ladder propped against the wall and leading to a small opening on top. "That can get us into the loft, which is more likely than not free from anyone's attention. From there, we can safely spy on the activity below. Come."

He scuttled out of hiding, leaving the girl no choice, but to follow. She caught up with him even before he was halfway up the rickety ladder, and soon they were standing under the exposed beams inside.

"Ugh. What is that stench?" Giovanna whispered the exact question that had come to Matteo's mind as soon as his feet hit the dusty planks.

Breathing through his mouth, he did his best to answer. "It's probably just the raw hemp used to make ropes that has gotten damp, moldy even," he lied, knowing full well that the excuse could no way explain the rotten odor. "You'll get used to it quickly. Now ssh." He placed a finger over his lips to shush her before motioning with his hand to follow.

After tiptoeing to the edge of the platform, they carefully got on their hands and knees before fully lying on their bellies. Down below, a lantern at the door illuminated enough of the space to make out men carting wooden crates out one-by-one. Although they had been at the work for quite a while, there were still several dozen more piled up in a dark corner among looped coils of chain, overstuffed sacks of hemp, and folded piles of sailcloth.

"You must keep still," Matteo hissed through gritted teeth when Giovanna stirred beside him, making the floorboards creak.

She stared at him in surprise. "I didn't move a muscle," she muttered under her breath.

A chill ran down Matteo's spine, and the horrible feeling that they weren't alone crossed his mind. He dismissed the thought just as easily. It was probably just a rat searching for a late meal.

"The ship will not bear any more weight, Don Grimani," said a man from below, diverting his attention. Craning his neck, Matteo saw the Turk in the doorway, standing next to the Doge's son.

"Unacceptable! I need all of this to be moved tonight," Nicco said, crossing his arms.

"Unless you want it to end up in the bottom of the lagoon, you'll allow me to do it in two trips," said the Turk with a respectful—if not quite derisive—bow.

Matteo could practically feel Nicco's rising anger as the swindler's fingers forcefully dug into his upper arm. Realizing the wisdom in his ship captain's plan, the young Grimani would surely relent.

"Do as you must," Nicco finally huffed before abruptly turning.

When he had gone, the Turk made an odd hand gesture in Nicco's direction, sticking his thumb between his index and middle fingers while maintaining a closed fist. He also laughed, only stopping when one of his men returned with an empty cart. After receiving instructions in a tongue foreign to Matteo's ears, the sailor stowed the cart, picked up a discarded ladder and looked toward the rafters.

Matteo pulled his head down. Scooting backward while remaining as stiff as a board, he was thankful to see Giovanna doing the same. When the top of the ladder thudded against the loft's edge just an arm's length away, his breath hitched and his heart began to race in his chest.

What to do?

If they stayed and the sailor ascended, they'd be discovered, and there was no good answer to explain the reason for their presence. Yet if they jumped up to attempt an escape, there was just as much chance of being apprehended.