Vintage Love (111 page)

Because there had been a capacity crowd it took them a long while to get down to the lobby and then outside. They joined a group of fashionably dressed couples who were making their way to the stage door in the alley beside the Opera House. By mingling with these operagoers wishing to pay their respects to the various stars, they were able to get by the stage-door man and inside to the stage itself.

The others moved toward the dressing rooms of the stars which were on the first level above the stage. They waited at the foot of the iron stairway because the extras dressed high up above. It was likely to be at least two or three flights to that level.

As they waited the stage crew began dismantling settings and taking away the props until only a bare stage was left.

Raphael glanced at the empty stage and then above at the stairway. “I don’t like this waiting. I’d rather go up and confront him in his dressing room.”

“It wouldn’t do,” she argued. “There would probably be a half-dozen or more in the room. They’d take his side. We must get him alone.”

“Suppose he comes down the stairs with some others?”

She said, “In that case I will show myself and call him onto the stage. You can keep in the shadows here until I have him apart from the others.”

“Then I move in with my pistol and keep him covered while you question him?”

“That’s the exact plan,” she said, gratified that he knew his role so well.

Raphael shook his head. “I’m still not sure this is wise!”

“We’ll have to go on now,” she said, as they both kept discreetly in the dark area behind the iron stairway.

Tension mounted as some of the couples who had come backstage with them now began to return down the stairs with the stars they were visiting. All was genial conversation and laughter as the fashionably dressed groups came down to the stage level and made their way out. They were followed by some of the minor players and extras. But Gregorio had not yet come down the iron steps.

There was a lull and no one came down the steps for a few minutes. It seemed that she and Raphael were alone in the dimly lighted backstage area. Then she heard footsteps on the stairs and almost cried out as she saw Gregorio.

The bull-like man was hurrying down the last of the iron stairs when she stepped out and stood before him. His broad face showed surprise.

“You!” he said.

“Did you think we’d never meet again?” she asked.

He eyed her suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“I’d like to have you answer a few questions,” she said.

He shook his head. “I haven’t time!”

“You will take time,” she said evenly. And she nodded for Raphael to join her.

The handsome young Prince acted on cue and came out with his pistol in hand and aimed at Gregorio. He said, “We felt you might talk better with encouragement!”

The huge Gregorio gave him a contemptuous smile. “You will not hear anything from me!”

Della was fearful that someone else would come down from the dressing rooms and interrupt them. She told Raphael, “Have him move farther over onto the stage and out of the path of traffic.”

Raphael menacingly pointed the pistol at the big man. “You heard her?”

Gregorio looked sullen. “I don’t know what kind of game you are playing. You’re being very foolish!” But he obeyed her suggestion to move away from the stairs to the dark-shadowed section of the stage beyond.

She faced him again in the near darkness and said, “What about Irma? Where is she?”

“Why ask me?” Gregorio demanded mockingly.

“Because you work for Barsini. You have to know,” she snapped.

“Better cooperate,” Raphael suggested.

Gregorio made no reply. But suddenly he dodged back into the darkness and in a minute had vanished behind some of the stored scenery. Raphael was left standing there looking stunned with the pistol in his hand.

Della turned on him. “How could you? You let him get away! Why didn’t you fire at him?”

“I hadn’t time,” he pleaded.

She felt this might be true but she didn’t think it boded good for them. “We’ll have to try and find him,” she said in a whisper.

“Where?” Raphael whispered back, keeping his pistol at the ready.

They moved cautiously among the painted canvas flats, Raphael in the lead, crouching with his pistol out. She followed, also keeping low so their shadows would not be too prominently projected agaist the back wall. They were about midway across the area when without warning a heavy sandbag fell from the gallery far above, where the additional scenery was hung when not in use. All these scenic drops were balanced with heavy bags of sand so they could be pulled up or down with ease.

She gave a small cry as the heavy bag barely missed her and moved closer to Raphael. “Almost hit me!” she whispered.

“It was meant to,” he said in the same low whisper.

She glanced up into the fly gallery and said, “He must have gotten up there somehow!”

Raphael nodded. “Iron ladder on the back wall.”

“I see,” she whispered. “We’d better get outside!”

“And leave him?”

“Catch him out there,” was her whispered suggestion.

Still crouching, Raphael looked grim. “If we can get out!”

They began slowly crossing the dark, open stage area and had almost made it when down came a second sandbag. This time they were not so lucky. The bag came down almost on Raphael and sent him crashing to the floor. His pistol flew from his hand and skidded into the shadows.

Ignoring her own danger, she went to the side of the fallen Raphael. The bag had burst, splattering sand all around where he lay. His face was deathly white and there was blood trickling from his temple.

She tearfully leaned over him, afraid that he might be dead. “Raphael! Speak to me!” she pleaded with him.

There was no response from the unconscious man. She leaned down to hear if his heart was beating and before she could be sure of this she was seized from behind. She heard the roar of triumph from the giant Gregorio and in the next instant he had tied a rope about her arms so that she could not struggle against him.

“You wanted to talk to me!” he said jubilantly.

“You!” she tried to scream, but before she could properly do it he’d thrust a dirty cloth in her mouth and bound it. Then he picked her up as if she were some sort of cloth doll and carried her away.

Instead of taking the stage door to leave the theater he chose another exit, a small door inside a larger one which could be opened to transport scenery in and out of the theater. She tried to struggle and scream, but she could do neither. She had to be content kicking as hard as she could. This seemed not to bother him at all. He laughed in his mocking fashion as he stepped out into the darkness and down some wooden steps to the ground.

Then he took a succession of alleys rather than the street. She tried to free herself but was as helpless as a child in the giant’s arms. They came to a house with a red lamp prominent in one of its lower windows. Della remembered Raphael telling her that this was the sign of the slum brothel. It was the way the keepers of the brothels let all know this was a house of ill repute!

The giant marched toward the house with the red lamp in the window and banged on its door. After a moment the door was opened by a massive woman. She took a look at them and fear spread across her face.

“Go away!” she cried. “I do not want any trouble!”

“You better not refuse me or I’ll have this place closed within the hour,” Gregorio warned her. “I want a room!”

“No, please!” The big woman was terrified. “You come back later by yourself!”

“Listen to me, Mama Luchini,” Gregorio said, “I am a regular and I insist on my rights. Give me a room or expect to be shuttered!”

“Who is she?”

“My girl,” Gregorio told the woman. “She has chosen to be troublesome so I tied and gagged her!”

“I do not want trouble!” the massive woman chanted and opened the door to let them in. Still muttering to herself, she climbed the narrow stairway with Gregorio following her, Della helpless in his arms.

They reached the upper level and went down a corridor of closed doors. Della heard drunken male laughter and the shrill cry of a girl. The fat woman halted and threw open a door.

“In there!” she said. “I do not want trouble!”

“Don’t worry!” Gregorio said gloatingly. “My girl and I will settle all our differences here on this cot!” And he dropped her roughly onto the narrow cot which, along with a chair, made up the furniture of the tiny brothel room.

By the flickering flame of the small candle in a tin holder on the windowsill she could see the massive Gregorio looming above her. The young, blond giant had a cruel smile on his face.

He said, “You wanted to be with me again and I never refuse a lady’s wishes!”

The terror in her eyes and her repulsion could not be mistaken as she squirmed on the narrow cot in an effort to escape him. But this was not to be! Slowly he bent over and, lifting up her skirts, began to tear savagely at her underclothing until she lay there naked from the waist down.

He unloosed his trousers and as she made a last desperate attempt to roll off the cot, he fell upon her. His tactics were all too familiar! Cruelly he penetrated her with the massive organ that had ravaged her earlier. She groaned and with her eyes implored him to be merciful! Her tears streaked down to the gag which still covered her mouth but seeing her cry only seemed to egg him on.

She closed her eyes and prayed that it would soon end.

His body was heavy upon her and his foul breath seemed to fill the room. He was lost in a wild orgy of enjoying her! And then she saw the door from the corridor open and an old sallow-faced, gray-bearded man in a black cloak and wide-brimmed black hat stepped in. He was the same man she had seen earlier in the catacombs. The old man held a dagger in his upraised right hand and very cautiously he advanced upon the cot!

Gregorio was so lost in the rapture of his lust that he was completely unaware of the intruder. Suddenly she saw the gleam of the dagger as it came plunging down into the blond man’s back. Gregorio gave a hoarse cry and shuddered, then he fell off her to land on the floor beside the cot.

The old man moved swiftly to her and pulled down her skirt to hide her lovely nude body. Then he untied the rope about her arms and helped her to a sitting position on the cot as he went on to remove the gag from her mouth.

She gasped, “Thank you!” Then she looked down to see the motionless figure of the partially nude Gregorio on the floor. She glanced away quickly and began to tremble.

The old man said, “Don’t worry! He’s dead! The scum!”

Still trembling, she managed to ask, “How?”

“How did I know you needed rescue?” the old man formed the question for her. “I’ve been trailing Gregorio some time. I planned to finish him tonight. When I saw him come out of the Opera House with you I followed.”

“What now?”

“You get away from here quickly,” the old man said. “I will remain here while you make your escape. Then I will leave.”

He helped her to her feet and she stood shakily for a moment. Then she asked him, “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“I would like to know!” she insisted.

“I could be a friend,” the old man said. “There is no time to discuss it. I will give you a suggestion though. Find Pasquale Borgo! Don’t forget the name! Pasquale Borgo!”

“Pasquale Borgo!” she repeated with a tremor in her voice.

“Now go!” he said sternly.

He went to the door and glanced out to make sure there was no one in the corridor. Then he nodded for her to leave. She hesitated and then realized there was nothing for her to do but obey the man who had just now murdered to save her. She nodded to him in turn and slipped out quickly. With her long skirt to cover her no one would guess that she was completely nude underneath. Nor that she had been ravaged by a man who now lay dead!

Again there were the bursts of female laughter and male voices low and incoherent as she passed the closed doors. She was too dazed by all that had happened to really hear what was going on. Retracing her way down the rickety stairs, she found herself confronted by the massive, black-haired madam.

The big woman scowled at her. “So he’s finished with you, has he?”

“Yes,” she said meekly, afraid the huge woman was going to try and hold her captive.

The woman said roughly, “Get out of here! Maybe now hell have a turn with one of my girls! Not like you! They know how to please a man properly!”

The big woman laughed at her own comment and stood aside for Della to rush out into the pleasant fresh air and the darkness of the street. Now she prayed that she might make her way through the maze of alleys unmolested. She was so near collapse than any sort of attack on her would finish her.

She tried to remember the route by which he’d brought her and failed the first time, coming to a dead-end alley. Someone threw slops from a window and she drew back in time to save herself, from a dousing, then ran on.

She was sobbing from the shock of being raped and seeing a murder, all within a short space of time. She was also concerned about Raphael, who could be dead for all she knew. The whole world now seemed a mad confusion of alleys until, just as she was about to give up hope, she came out into the street behind the opera house.

She halted for a moment, pushed back some of her wildly disarranged hair and half-walked, half-staggered to the stage door of the opera house. There on the steps with his head in his hands sat Raphael.

She hurried the last few steps and sank down at his side. “Raphael! I thought you were dead!”

He looked up at her, his face pale, blood congealed on his temple. His dazed eyes suddenly focused and he grasped her by the arms. “Della! What happened to you?”

“Later,” she said wearily. “What about you?”

“The last I remember was that sandbag coming down and striking me,” he told her. “When I came to I was alone. No sign of you or that Gregorio!”

“I know,” she said. “He dragged me off!”

“The theater was deserted,” he said. “I called out your name and there was no reply. My head has been aching madly. I searched about the floor and found my pistol. Then I came out here for air and to try and think what I could do.”