Lazzaretto Vecchio, Venice Mera Teale no longer looks or feels quite as sexy as she did a few hours ago. The Satanic deaconess is bleeding, bruised and soaked from her dip in the boathouse water, the place where she and Dino Ancelotti took so many innocent lives.
Valentina has no time for the protocol of a courteous and judicious interrogation. She walks the handcuffed Teale outside the boathouse, away from everyone else. 'So here's how it goes. Either you tell me everything you know, or I put a bullet through your head and make it look like you were escaping.'
Teale smiles. 'You really are as sexy as fuck when you're mad. I wish I had my camera right now.'
Valentina holds Teale's shoulders and expertly back-kicks her to her knees. Within a flash she has her Beretta drawn and pushed into the floored Satanist's mouth. 'I swear to Christ I will kill you if you don't start helping me.'
Whether it's the taste of gunmetal between her teeth or the look of sheer rage in Valentina's eyes, Teale is persuaded it's time to cooperate. Her eyes signal total submission.
Valentina drags her to her feet and re-holsters the weapon. 'So, tell me.'
Teale's lost her arrogance now. 'I don't know much. Just that there are bombs.'
'Bombs?'
'One at the Ponte della Liberta. Another in Venezuela at Angel Falls. And one in America. At the Venetian – the hotel in Las Vegas.' A twitch of a smile touches her lips. A reminder of the old Teale. 'You're too late to stop them.'
Valentina's in shock. She's made a terrible mistake. It's not Muscle Beach in Venice. She calls it in to the control room and prays they can warn the Americans in time.