pointed. The man who had attacked her made a nasty gesture at her. He got into the boat, gripping his wounded shoulder, and the gondolier pushed off from the dock, heading away from her and across the canal to the opposite side.
She was inclined to follow—gondolas were not speedy getaway vehicles—and so she took the sidewalk away from the direction they traveled, to a wood bridge with wood railings that allowed her to cross the canal without being seen.
She waited, concealed by the bridge as the gondola stopped and both men got out. They scanned the area before walking down an alley. A car waited at the end of that alley.
Annja raced down the alley but by the time she’d reached the street the vehicle was no longer in sight.
Retracing her steps to the gondola, she hopped in and looked around. No clues.
“Back to the police,” she said. But again she wondered why she was drawing the rogue pseudo-ninjas and outboard propellers, and Scout was not.
* * *
I AN T ATE SCROLLED through footage he’d filmed the past two days and couldn’t help but feel disappointment. He’d gotten much better footage out by the San Michele island years ago. Certainly there was a difference between the open seawaters and the canals snaking through the city. The waters flowing through Venice were much too murky to provide anything more than muted shots. His headlamps had shone on sediment and abandoned refuse and concrete and wood pilings.
A few shots of Annja and Scout gliding through the water illustrated their underwater quest.
“Nothing usable,” he said with disgust.
He liked working with Chasing History’s Monsters and appreciated the credit for his résumé, but he wasn’t going to get any more jobs with the program if he couldn’t make the film look half-decent. He knew the producer, Doug Morrell, liked the sensational stuff. But how to make a quest for a lost artifact sensational? If a sea monster were to swim by, he’d be in the money. Hell, he’d celebrate if there was a stray octopus. There was a lot Photoshop could do with tentacles.
Laughing to himself, Ian tried enhancing the shots from day one and decided the technique improved the light depth markedly without washing out the picture too much.
“Wait.”
Suddenly noting something out of the ordinary on one of the slides, he zoomed in on the clip. Something shiny glinted from between a closely spaced row of wood pilings. It wasn’t an engine part or tin can, either.
Ian tilted his head, trying to discern the shape of the thing, but it was only a segment he saw between the two wood pillars. “Is it possible?”
He wasn’t expert at knowing what to see in the waters on an expedition. He just filmed. But he suspected Annja and Scout would want to see this, so he cued it up and then headed out for the morning dive.
Chapter 10
Annja leaned over Ian’s shoulder to view the laptop’s monitor. He’d arrived just as she’d been climbing top deck after suiting up. The gleam in his eye had spoken more than he’d said the past two days. When he’d excitedly told them about his find while going through the footage this morning, she had felt the same familiar hum of excitement. It was comparable to dusting off the edge of a deep-buried bone and not knowing what lay beneath. Just an old bone? Or a complete piece worthy of much study?
Scout joined them as Ian cued up the shots.
“It just flashed at me,” Ian explained enthusiastically. “I don’t know why I didn’t recall seeing it while filming. Sometimes you have to look at something twice or more before you see what’s really there.”
Scout met Annja’s gaze, and she had the distinct feeling she should take Ian’s words more personally. As in, why could she only see what was on the surface where Scout was concerned? What was really going on with him? Did she need a few more times to look before she saw his truth? And why hadn’t she found out more about him yet?
Perhaps because she’d been
She was inclined to follow—gondolas were not speedy getaway vehicles—and so she took the sidewalk away from the direction they traveled, to a wood bridge with wood railings that allowed her to cross the canal without being seen.
She waited, concealed by the bridge as the gondola stopped and both men got out. They scanned the area before walking down an alley. A car waited at the end of that alley.
Annja raced down the alley but by the time she’d reached the street the vehicle was no longer in sight.
Retracing her steps to the gondola, she hopped in and looked around. No clues.
“Back to the police,” she said. But again she wondered why she was drawing the rogue pseudo-ninjas and outboard propellers, and Scout was not.
* * *
I AN T ATE SCROLLED through footage he’d filmed the past two days and couldn’t help but feel disappointment. He’d gotten much better footage out by the San Michele island years ago. Certainly there was a difference between the open seawaters and the canals snaking through the city. The waters flowing through Venice were much too murky to provide anything more than muted shots. His headlamps had shone on sediment and abandoned refuse and concrete and wood pilings.
A few shots of Annja and Scout gliding through the water illustrated their underwater quest.
“Nothing usable,” he said with disgust.
He liked working with Chasing History’s Monsters and appreciated the credit for his résumé, but he wasn’t going to get any more jobs with the program if he couldn’t make the film look half-decent. He knew the producer, Doug Morrell, liked the sensational stuff. But how to make a quest for a lost artifact sensational? If a sea monster were to swim by, he’d be in the money. Hell, he’d celebrate if there was a stray octopus. There was a lot Photoshop could do with tentacles.
Laughing to himself, Ian tried enhancing the shots from day one and decided the technique improved the light depth markedly without washing out the picture too much.
“Wait.”
Suddenly noting something out of the ordinary on one of the slides, he zoomed in on the clip. Something shiny glinted from between a closely spaced row of wood pilings. It wasn’t an engine part or tin can, either.
Ian tilted his head, trying to discern the shape of the thing, but it was only a segment he saw between the two wood pillars. “Is it possible?”
He wasn’t expert at knowing what to see in the waters on an expedition. He just filmed. But he suspected Annja and Scout would want to see this, so he cued it up and then headed out for the morning dive.
Chapter 10
Annja leaned over Ian’s shoulder to view the laptop’s monitor. He’d arrived just as she’d been climbing top deck after suiting up. The gleam in his eye had spoken more than he’d said the past two days. When he’d excitedly told them about his find while going through the footage this morning, she had felt the same familiar hum of excitement. It was comparable to dusting off the edge of a deep-buried bone and not knowing what lay beneath. Just an old bone? Or a complete piece worthy of much study?
Scout joined them as Ian cued up the shots.
“It just flashed at me,” Ian explained enthusiastically. “I don’t know why I didn’t recall seeing it while filming. Sometimes you have to look at something twice or more before you see what’s really there.”
Scout met Annja’s gaze, and she had the distinct feeling she should take Ian’s words more personally. As in, why could she only see what was on the surface where Scout was concerned? What was really going on with him? Did she need a few more times to look before she saw his truth? And why hadn’t she found out more about him yet?
Perhaps because she’d been
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