The Knife That Twists Within

ANGEL'S TRUMPETS by Stefan http://stefan680.tripod.com/stefanstories/

Chapter Four

Via Appia

George didn't know whom he missed more right now: The man from Chamber 4 or Andrea. The man with the hood and the long cock had given him the most impressive orgasm of his entire life, and he knew that he had difficulties to get hard anyway. Just a few men recently had been able to turn him on constantly. One of them had been Marcus Weidenbruch, the dark beauty from Berlin he had met at London's Tower and corrupted with the one and only screen Sir Edward Burne-Jones had designed. He had promised to give Marcus the screen in exchange for a whole week full of sex. It had ended in a disaster; the screen was destroyed and George had Marcus replaced with Andrea Cassini, whom he met at his fruit stand near the Spanish Steps. Andrea was a typical Italian boy: cocky, jealous and totally convinced of himself.

The door clicked and one moment later he appeared in the living room.

"Where have you been? I was waiting for you. The meal is cold now."

Andrea rolled his eyes to the ceiling; George was indulging in his favourite activity already: drinking.

"Is this a reason to get drunk again?" he asked annoyed.

"Is this an answer to my question?"

"I have eaten already."

"With whom? Sebastian? Roberto?"

"None of them. I was with my family." This wasn't a lie; Andrea had visited his sister Antonella and her children. George's face showed that he didn't believe it.

"Think what you want," Andrea said in a cool voice.

"Hey." Quickly George had stepped in his way. "Don't I pay you enough? For this money I can demand a little more attention." His lips brushed Andrea's cheek. "You're my little Italian lover boy. Be nice to me."

"I'm tired."

George pushed him away. "Tired from spreading your legs for Sebastian?" He tugged at Andrea's blue jeans. "Let me see if you're still filled with his cum."

"Leave me alone. You're sick." Andrea turned and vanished into the bedroom. He was sure that George was sorry already.

George cursed. Another one who didn't want to sleep with him. The man from chamber 4 didn't come either. What was wrong with him? Did he really drink too much? Was he that ugly? Wasn't he witty enough? Didn't he pay enough? And why wasn't he able to hold Andrea without money? Was it his age? Nonsense, he was just in his mid thirties. Perhaps he had always solved his problems with money, as he had learnt at his parental home. Every man has his price, his father had told him. And George couldn't prove the opposite. Even Marcus, with his high demands, had had his price.

George smiled wistfully, stepped to the bar and mixed himself a martini. He was sure that Andrea had been with Sebastian to renew their relationship. This Roberto couldn't offer Andrea anything but the rich man, Sebastian, famous now for his recent detection of Rome's real age, was the pure sexual temptation.

Hate boiled in his bowels; he swallowed the martini and yet another. This von Scheffel must vanish, he thought. If Andrea couldn't see Sebastian anymore he would come back to him, willingly ease his lovely cock into his ass, giving him the same pleasure he had felt at Luigi's Bar.

He left the room, determined to make his visit at the police station tomorrow morning.

Via Condotti

"Look at this." Tasso's manicured finger tapped at a glossy print from a fashion show in Milano. "The new Autumn collection. Valentino, Versace, Trussardi, Testa."

Kay's eyes glistening. What he saw was breathtaking. He was sure that no "normal" man would ever wear something like this, but he and Tasso definitely wasn't "normal." Men in short, open jackets made of peacock feathers, in blue white ringed shirts with calf long, wide trousers or even in skirts with white stockings.

"Where's the underwear collection?"

"I have a private collection in the atelier. Everything is organized. We can't have the Spanish Steps of course to present it, but Nino is about to arrange something. It's a surprise."

He smiled toothy. "You are coming? You know I won't accept a no."

"Surely I'm with you." This was certainly fun and nothing that he would miss. "I'm looking forward, really." Tasso smiled at him. He had left some of his perky, camp behaviour and even had forgotten to dye his hair for he showed some gray strands at the hairline. Certainly a tribute to the incident at his partner's bar and all the hassle afterwards. Tasso and Luigi had been interviewed by the police and could avoid by a hair's breadth the closing of the bar. Luigi had helped with a considerable amount of Lire. Rome was one big heap of corruptible people, no matter if official or not.

"I suppose you don't have news from the murder?" Kay asked him.

Tasso shook his head. "There was just the plastic bag and a camera the polizia found. It was empty, without film."

"A camera?"

"Si. Very expensive model. You can make photos in darkness."

"Needs a very bright flashlight then." Kay remembered his brother had mentioned seeing a guy always shooting photos. "Why do you think the murderer took the film but left the camera there?"

Tasso shrugged. "Don't know what's going on in the head of a sadist."

"Surely the police took finger prints."

Kay's cell phone rang. Instantly he recognized Sebastian's voice but he sounded so small and quiet that he was alarmed. He was stone faced when he cut the line. "I must go, Tasso. Sorry for always having something while with you. It's Sebastian. I can't tell you more."

Piazza Venezia

Kay's Vespa crossed recklessly through the traffic, cut in on cars, pedestrians cursed behind him, but Kay didn't notice. In front of the Palazzo Venezia he jumped from the bike and ran upstairs, taking three steps at once into the building with the stone inscription "Commissariato di Polizia."

The gatekeeper told him where to go, until he found himself in a large corridor, searching for the right door.

"Homicide Squad," he read and gulped empty. He knocked softly and opened the door. Sebastian was sitting upon a chair next to a table, a police officer beside him and another in the background, clattering fervently upon his typewriter.

"Scusi," he said. "Kay Langenburg."

Sebastian's face lit up. He still couldn't believe what the detective had told him over the last hour. This all had to be a misunderstanding.

Kay quickly rushed to Sebastian and showered him with questions until the commissario stopped him. Kay's Italian though wasn't that good yet to understand him. Sebastian shushed Kay and pulled him upon a chair next to him. "Go to Marcus and tell him to call my solicitor."

"What happened?"

"Somebody has brought a charge against me. I'm under suspicion of the murder of Paolo, the stripper."

"What? Say it's a joke."

The commissario cleared his throat. "Basta cosi," he said. "Signore von Scheffel. We have to keep you here for 48 hours. It's allowed to bring clothes you need," he continued in broken German.

Kay didn't know what to say. His eyes registered everything too sharply: The bully man in his blue uniform, the beret lay upon the table because of the heat. A fan made the paper rustle. A small ficus withered on the window sill. The clacking of the typewriter droned in his ears. He wished he could embrace his lover, but Sebastian seemed even in this position unshakeable. His grin though appeared a bit forced. "Pack my things, Kay. My solicitor will hand it to me."

"Aren't I allowed to see you again?"

"No." The commissario threw in. "No camouflage tactics."

Kay took Sebastian's hand and squeezed the fingers. His eyes told him more than he was allowed to say. He left him with a long glance and an encouraging smile.

Gianicolo

Marcus was fuming. He had difficulty in calming down when everybody had gathered around the table in Sebastian's house. Nicholas' prepared dishes were untouched. It was quiet in the round.

"Let's see what we have," Marcus started. "Michele, Sebastian's solicitor, told me these facts: The police received evidence that Sebastian was a visitor in chamber 4 that questionable night. The informer further said that he himself had sex with Sebastian frequently and that Sebastian had been out of control each time."

A loud chatter started. Kay went pale. "That's a lie. He never was there!" he said. Leandro gave him a sharp look. Sascha had told him that he was a frequent visitor. But surely he had stopped his visits when Kay had entered his life. He wasn't sure if he should say this aloud, or in a private word. Somebody tried to use something against Sebastian, so Leandro decided to play open. "Kay, Sascha mentioned that Sebastian visited chamber 4. He was sort of a regular."

Kay looked at him not comprehending, then he looked away. Marcus put a hand upon his arm. "That was before his time with you, Kay. I'm sure. Or does he spend his nights outside?"

Kay shook his head. "Can you give Sebastian an alibi? You have been together the whole evening I suppose," Marcus continued. Kay remembered suddenly that Sebastian had vanished for some time to meet an 'old friend' he said and couldn't tell him afterwards where he had been or with whom. He looked at his shoes. What was he supposed to say now? Would he help Sebastian if he gave him an alibi? Would that be enough for the police? He was sort of family.

"He left me to meet an old friend. Don't know where he was during that time."

Everybody looked at each other and Marcus sighed. "Has anybody else seen him?"

Shaking of heads.

"What are we doing now?" Kay asked.

"Michele said the accusations are very weak. Just to say that Sebastian supposedly entered chamber 4 isn't enough of a reason for a charge. Of course they have the right to take him into custody for 48 hours. Michele will do everything to get him free after that. By the way, the name of the witness is George Rosenstock."

It was like a bombshell, but to Leandro and Daniel the name had no meaning. Marcus quickly filled them in. "But it's clear then!" Kay shouted. "He wants to get him."

"What does he look like?" Leandro asked suddenly.

"Light hair, like honey colour, gray eyes, about my height," Marcus answered.

"That's him. Does he drink martini and gin? I've seen him my very first day in Rome. He followed me to Sebastian's work place."

Marcus' eyes were black with anger. Subconsciously he nibbled at the paprika slices and dried tomatoes standing still untouched at the table. Damn George! He was always showing up. Probably he was jealous of Andrea's and Sebastian's former relationship. That was sick anyway. Of course George had been interviewed by the police too but he wasn't under suspicion. Marcus asked himself why.

"What if Kay simply says he was with him all evening?" Nicholas threw in.

"He could of course. An alibi is an alibi. Would you do this?" He looked at Kay.

"Of course."

"I will talk to Michele then."

At the staircase Leandro waited for Kay, who came absorbed in a talk with his brother. Simon said good night then.

"You aren't cross with me, are you?" Leandro asked.

"Why should I be?"

"Because I said that Sebastian..."

"Rubbish. What he did before us is none of my business." Leandro smiled haltingly. Well, then... I'm sorry for all this."

Kay nodded and went slowly upstairs. Leandro knew he wouldn't be able to sleep this night.

Daniel waited in front of his door. He stretched out his hand and opened the door. Leandro followed him. "Do you want to be alone?"

"No. I don't want to be alone." He sat upon his bed. "I'm so sorry for Sebastian. This British guy must be really cross with him.

"Perhaps he just doesn't want to lose Andrea."

"It's sick. If he's about to lose Andrea it's not Sebastian's fault."

"Right." Daniel sat beside him. "I'm sure the police can't keep him locked up. There are no real suspicious factors." He looked at the younger man. "Care to share the shower with me?"

Leandro's heartbeat quickened and he smiled.

Deep in the night Kay crept down the staircase to watch some TV. He needed something to distract his mind and though he didn't understand too much the fast blabber had a soothing feeling.

Then he remembered that Sebastian had a satellite dish and switched to a German TV channel. The news from all over the world was frightening as always and probably ever will be. At the end of the news came a little report about Rome and the newest attraction that had been discovered this very day.

Kay saw the outside of a brown, plain church at the Capitol Hill whose name he always forgot. The small insert- lines named it the "Santa Maria in Aracoeli."

Interested, Kay listened now and was presented with a photo of a carved wooden figure of a child. It wore a splendid coat and little pearl embroidered shoes. It matched the pearls that were on it's crown.

The speaker said that the curator of this church had been busy with dusting the Santo Bambino - a holy relic from Jerusalem, highly adored and brought by one of the first crusaders - when he detected this was the genuine one. The Santo Bambino had been stolen in 1994 and was since then untraceable. For the adorers, a copy had been made.

The Vatican said it was a miracle and would like to ordain a feast next week to celebrate the finding of the Santo Bambino.

Kay stared at the telly. Perhaps this little kid wanted to have some holidays he thought, slightly amused.

He switched off the TV and went into the kitchen to snatch a chunk of cheese from the fridge. His stomach rumbled for he hadn't eaten anything last evening. He filled a glass with cold water and sat down at the kitchen table. Chewing at the cheese he felt very lonely. He couldn't imagine Sebastian in a small, squeaking metal bed with striped bed linen, the loo in one of the corners. Perhaps this was just a cliche he tried to convince himself. But the fact was the same. Sebastian was under suspicion of murder and this was the most serious event in their mutual life so far.

And what did George's statement mean, that he and Sebastian had had sex several times? Sebastian hadn't met George. Had he?

Kay sat so for a good half an hour when he noticed footsteps upon the staircase coming toward the kitchen. Kay's face lit up when he saw Simon in the door frame. Surprised and relieved to have company, Kay smiled at him. "Can't sleep either?"

"Hungry. May I?" Simon pointed to the fridge.

"Feel at home."

Simon bit into a Frankfurter and sat at the table opposite his brother.

"Why aren't you in bed? Feel sick?" Kay asked.

"No, I couldn't eat then. I just thought about Sebastian. What a crap. I'm sure he's laying awake right now, thinking of you."

Kay smiled, pained. "I just hope his solicitor can figure this out. But what about yourself?" Kay inspected his brother's naked upper body. "You're smaller than I remember."

"I always wanted to make a diet," Simon joked. "I'm used to it. In fact this Italian food and dishes do me well. Ben has bought tons of cook books for Hepatitis patients. What would I do without him."

"And your infection?"

"Well, I try to ignore it, although it's hard with all the pills I have to take and the monthly examination. Doc wants to test a new medication. It's called T10 and pretty new on the market. It stops the disease from breaking out, at least they have proved it with apes."

"Means you're a guinea pig?"

Simon nodded. "Why not? I've nothing to lose. My T-cells are increasing already."

"Really?" Kay forgot for a moment his lover. He hoped so dearly that Simon would still have so many years to live without AIDS, now that he had settled down with Ben. Nothing better could have happened to him than Ben.

"Have you heard from Frank and Eduard?"

"Nothing from Frank. Ben's teacher went underground since it's school holidays but Eduard quit his job in the senate at Berlin."

"Indeed so?"

Simon nodded. "Was to risky for him probably."

Kay suddenly remembered the news from the TV. "Hey, I've just heard a strange thing. You told me that you and Ben had been to San Paolo and saw the Grandmaster together with Borghese." He stopped. He was getting an idea. "Haven't you told me that the Grand Master gave the cardinal a package that looked like a baby?" His eyes glistened. "It was the Santo Bambino!"

"Yes, they said so. But how do you know?"

"They reported on TV that this bambino has come back to the church. It was stolen some years ago and now it's back again."

Simon bent forward. "That's it. But Kotomy can't be the robber. Or perhaps it was one of his knights? And Kotomy found it and brought it back to the cardinal to place it in the church again."

"Yeah! Wow, we should open an detective agency!"

He laughed and turned his head. Nicholas was standing there, half laughing. "I thought I'm the only one who's hungry," he said. He wasn't sure though if he should interrupt the brother's talk.

"Help yourself, the fridge is full," Kay said and pulled another chair closer. "We talked about the Santo Bambino and about Frank and Eduard."

Nicholas nibbled at a slice of bread and a tomato. "Eduard squanders his pension at a Sado-Maso studio I suppose," he said and the brothers chortled. "That was the last thing we've heard about him in Berlin. About Frank we don't know, I suppose we will learn more when the semester starts anew."

"And Joachim?" Kay asked. Joachim had been the one Simon was working for before he had met Ben. He had suggested Simon sleep with several men and Jo blackmailed them afterwards with pictures and videos.

"Nothing," Simon answered. "I've sent back Eduards photos and that was all. It was, of course, in the sense of Joachim. You remember perhaps that some of the photos were showing things the police were after, so that was the reason Joachim wanted to find the photos."

Kay nodded. "Of course I remember. So since you returned them, nobody can detect them anymore. Isn't that criminal?"

Simon gave him a surprised look. "Since when are you so moralizer like?"

But Kay just grinned. "Well, I'm glad that you don't have to do anything more with that Jo and all the other idiots. When are you writing your next bestseller, huh?"

Simon laughed, head flung back. "That's not as easy as it seems, sweetheart. I can sell a short story here and there but a book is quite a piece of work. I'm working at it though."

"The memories of your life?" Nicholas asked excitedly. He never had heard Simon's full story. "I would be your first buyer."

"Settled then. I'll invite you to my first reading." Simon's dimples appeared in his cheeks. Kay wondered if he really felt that light hearted as he acted or if this was just another mask. Hopefully he would have enough time yet to write it down. He finished his cheese and emptied the glass of water. Then he sighed heavily. "I don't think we can visit Sebastian tomorrow. Just his solicitor is allowed."

Simon put his hand upon Kay's. "Tomorrow evening he will be out, just wait and see."

"Your words in God's ear!"

San Giovanni in Laterano

It was an Emperor's Hall, cold and magnificent, intimidating and full of history's breath. Leandro was lent one of Sebastian's travel guides and was absorbed. Daniel had picked him up once more on his lunch break. Since Marcus, Nicholas and Kay had a meeting with Sebastian's solicitor he didn't know what to do and had invited Leandro to a restaurant, using Sebastian's little red Fiat to drive to the Villa Giulia at the other side of town.

Leandro stopped at four guilded bronze pillars, "Look, Daniel. These pillars had been cast from the bows of Cleopatra's fleet. Emperor Augustus had displayed them at the Forum Romanum as a trophy. Later the pillars were components of the big temple of the Jupiter Capitolinum."

Daniel touched the cool surface. "And now they are confiscated by the catholic church. Sic transit gloria mundi."

Leandro's thoughts once more went out to Sebastian. His work place at the Forum was now abandoned. He couldn't imagine what his colleagues would say to his difficulties. "Kay hopes that Sebastian will be released today or at least tomorrow."

"Let's hope for the best. Are we still going to Luigi's Bar tonight?"

Leandro nodded.

"What's with Sascha?"

"Sascha?"

Daniel looked around and pulled Leandro behind a pillar. San Bartholomew showed them his peeled off skin and a knife. Daniel cornered the young man. "It's me or him, I mean it." He smiled seductively and Leandro grinned. "What a choice for me!" He quickly kissed Daniel's lips. I'm not interested in Sascha. You should know that. After those nights..." Leandro fluttered his eye lashes on his lover. "Vincenzo isn't a real competitor for you."

"Really?" Daniel's brilliant green eyes were light as spring water.

"First I must count all the freckles upon your nose." Leandro looked around and gave him a kiss. "Let's look for the relics that were in your altar."

Together they went through the long nave, their footsteps echoing upon the marble ground. Daniel's heart had made a jump. Perhaps Leandro was falling in love with him. But was it possible to feel so deeply during their mutual nights and NOT to be in love?

In the middle stood the high gothic papal altar which contained a piece from the altar St. Peter used as he held the mass in Rome, and behind wonderful bars they could see the mummified heads of Peter and Paul - preserved in golden busts. "It's just copies," Leandro read. "Napoleon's troops melted down the originals."

Daniel grimaced and turned left. Another altar with pieces from the table of the Last Supper. "Look, there they are." Displayed behind glass with small descriptions on paper were the box with Jesus' baby hair and a crooked, rusted knife, declared as the real circumcision knife of Jesus Christ. Daniel stared at it. Unbelievable, it had been there: in the plinth of his altar all the time and he hadn't had a clue about it.

"Sebastian said it's all nonsense," he heard Leandro saying. "Like all the things standing in the cloisters."

"Like what?"

Leandro read aloud. "Remains of Noah's ark, pieces of the burning bush and of the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments, a barley bread from the bread reproduction, a head scarf of Mary's, the sword which killed Paul, etc., etc. Shall I continue?"

Daniel laughed amused. "Incredible. My ancestors did a good job, didn't they?"

Leandro rummaged for coins and threw them into a metal box. Then he took one of the candles, lit it and put it with the others already burning. He remained some seconds quietly before he turned. "That's for Sebastian," he explained.

"I guess so. Let's hope it works." Looking at his watch he said, "Time to return to your work place. Shall I pick you up later?"

"Great. Don't be late and bring my white shirt, please."

"Hey, you want to impress Sascha?"

Leandro pushed him. "Sure."

Villa Giulia

Leandro's lips were burning from Daniel's kisses. He waved after the red Fiat and sighed. What a man, he thought. His knees were shaking slightly when he made the short way to the entrance. Several people already waited for access. And then he couldn't believe his eyes: Hair cut short, not more than a brush over strong eyebrows, sun glasses upon a short nose, in his typical posture, the shoulders a bit bent over. He weighed more than Leandro remembered, perhaps the good cucina of his wife.

Leandro's stomach felt heavy as if he had swallowed a stone. He couldn't imagine what had forced Vincenzo to come to Rome. Intently he tried to make out Lena, his wife, but couldn't. Leandro just stood and watched, he couldn't bring himself to move. He stood and stared until Vincenzo looked in his direction. He took off the sun glasses, waved, slung his bag over a shoulder and came to him. Leandro didn't do anything; he just stood and waited; expecting every moment to see his wife.

Vincenzo smiled over his whole face. "Surprise, Leandro!" He spread his arms to embrace his ex-lover. Leandro let it happen, standing motionless. He smelled the familiar scent. A scent that had accompanied him over two years since Vincenzo's marriage, haunted him countless lonely nights after, cursing his cowardice for not having taken his lover to find their happiness somewhere else beyond Volterra. And now?

Vincenzo beamed into his eyes. They were still of an unbelievable blue, dark like a cornflower but his lids wee shadowed. His face had lost some of its tightness.

"What's that for a welcome, eh?" Vincenzo grumbled playfully. "I thought you would jump out of your shoes to see me."

Leandro stepped back. "Why should I? You came without Lena?"

"Yes."

"I'm late for work." Leandro said reserved. "You want to come with me or wait for me here? I'm finished at 6 p.m."

"Of course I'll wait for you. I guess I'll visit the museum then."

Leandro nodded and rushed through the rooms. He was all churned up inside. His thoughts somersaulted. He came alone . . . probably for holidays . . . his souvenir shop closed to come here to Rome to . . . what? To open the hardly scarred wound again? Now, that he had started a new life, far away from all sad memories, from his defeat.

And finally he thought about Daniel. The knife with whom he cut out the contours of a house, slipped and hurt his forefinger. Blood dripped onto the card. Leonard cursed and sucked the blood away.

"Keep your finger high," said Melissa, one of the women of his work group. "I'll bring you a plaster." Leandro didn't react; he sat there and let the blood drip upon the paper. "What's wrong with you?" Melissa took his hand and wrapped the strip around. Then she squatted beside him. "Problems? I saw you going with a nice looking man. Your brother?"

Leandro's body shook with silent laughter. What did she know?

"He's not my brother. And it had nothing to do with him."

He looked at the elder woman. "Thanks for the plaster." He smiled and Melissa went over to her work place again. Cautiously he took the knife and started to work again.

Around five he asked Don Pietro if he could go an hour earlier and his boss saw no problem. So he took his bag and searched for Vincenzo. He found him outside, sitting upon a bench under a plane tree, leafing through a museum's guide. He put it aside as soon as he saw Leandro coming and pulled him next to him. "You didn't look too surprised. Uncle Emilio told me that you're working now in Rome."

"I thought so," Leandro said curtly. "What are you looking for here?"

"Looking for you, of course." The blue eyes did their work as they always had. Leandro felt some of the armour that he had steeled himself with melt.

"The museum's great."

"It is. What are your plans? And how's your wife?"

Vincenzo was surprised by the sound in Leandro's voice. He had known another Leandro, a soft one although his stand-offishness and stubbornness had always been a thorn in his eyes. That his ex-lover was resentful too was new to him. He cleared his throat.

"I want to talk to you about Lena. She's the reason I'm here."

"Don't tell me you've had enough of her and remembered that you're gay actually, but too much of a coward to stand with me." Leandro snapped.

Vincenzo gasped. This exactly hit the nail on the head. "Afraid you're right." He said low.

"What? I'm right? This can't be true. You can't commute from one gender to the other just because you're bored momentarily and your suggestion to continue our mutual nights is just absurd. I don't want to be the third in your bed, not waiting until she gives you spare time."

Wow, were had this come from he thought suddendly. Leandro's heart jumped to his throat. What if he had left his wife. To stay here with him. Start anew. Continue where society had stopped them

"You know my parents, Leandro. It was impossible for us in Volterra. Just the few stolen nights when they thought I was sleeping in my sleeping bag. We aren't teenagers anymore. We are adults and nobody can tell us what to do or what's forbidden."

Vincenzo always had something very convincing in his speeches, Leandro remembered. Once he had sworn that nobody could separate them. In the same conviction he had told him that they had no future and he had to marry the daughter from the Tobacco shop next door to connect the companies. Huh! Leandro looked aside. At least his own parents knew about his homosexuality but this hadn't helped him either. His father told him to go and mother couldn't help him. It hurt until this very moment. Like Vincenzo's betrayal.

"You don't have to agitate me, Vincenzo. I haven't forgotten our history. You haven't told me what's with your wife."

Vincenzo slid closer. "You're right, I can't live with her anymore. At night I always remember you."

Leandro laughed. "It doesn't keep you from sleeping with her, right? Do you actually get a hard-on?"

"Leandro! That's not you." He looked suspiciously. "Is there another man?"

"Why does it bother you? If yes, it has nothing to do with us."

"But yes! I want you back. I'd like you to forgive me. Think about all our dreams. They could now come true." Vincenzo shook him and Leandro let it happen. He remembered too well their stolen hours together, a weekend's trip in the mountains, where they had made love two days long. The secret kisses behind a door, holding hands under a table. Childish. Vincenzo had a vivid imagination, he could talk for hours about the house they would have, the journeys they would take together and then . . . . and then . . .

"Does she know you're here?"

"She knows I'm in Rome, but not that you're here."

"Why not? She doesn't know we are ex-lovers, does she?"

Vincenzo shook his head. He was still a coward, Leandro thought. He felt Vincenzos fingers brushing through his hair and shivered. "You're still as beautiful as ever," Vincenzo whispered. "I missed you so much." He forced Leandro's head to look at him and then did something he had never done before: he kissed him in public and Leandro didn't struggle. When he opened his eyes again he looked straight into Daniel's green eyes. He jerked his head back and turned bright red from embarrassment.

He freed himself from Vincenzo's embrace and jumped up. "You are here already . . ." he said superfluously. This is Vincenzo," he mumbled, not able to look Daniel in the eyes. Vincenzo rose and stretched out his hand. "A colleague, I assume?"

"No." Daniel handed Leandro a bag. "Here's your shirt."

Daniel's voice was calm but in his eyes it was boiling. Since Leandro didn't seem to say another word, he turned and walked over to the Fiat.

"Danny, wait." Leandro reached him and grabbed his arm. "It's not what it looks like."

Daniel started to laugh. "Ah, I've heard that too often. It's like a movie. Who is he?"

Leandro took a deep breath. "I will explain everything. Wait for me in the car, will you?"

Daniel said nothing, he stepped into the car but left the door open.

"Now, who was this?" Vincenzo stood there, arms folded. He had a sinister look on his face.

"I don't think I have to account to you for anything, Vincenzo. You were out of my life and now you come along and try to involve me into something I don't want."

Vincenzo grinned. "But the kiss told me another thing."

"This is Daniel, Sebastian's cousin. "You remember Sebastian?"

"How couldn't I. You were hot for him once he made his apprenticeship at your uncle's. Have you ever been able to drag him into your bed? If not, you're trying now with his cousin, right?"

Leandro looked as if he wanted to slap him. "Watch your mouth, Vincenzo. We had a good time, but it's over. You destroyed everything. Go back to your wife."

Vincenzo held his arm painfully strong. "Now you listen to me. What would you have done in my shoes? You know my family. I didn't have a uncle to whom I could flee, I had to stand this."

"But your parent don't know you're gay. At least you could have told them."

"And ended up in hospital, bashed either by one of my brothers or some homophobic?"

"I told you to go away with me but you didn't want to. You wanted an easy life with wife and kids and house and garden and a dog! Mainly the people don't know that you're a 'pervert'." Leandro was almost shouting. "Go home, Vincenzo, and make your wife some nice kids." He turned and stepped into the waiting car, banging the door behind him.

Daniel looked at him in surprise. "What was that?"

"Haven't you heard everything?" Leandro said, still fuming. "That was my ex-lover. I've told you about him."

Suddenly Daniel remembered the dance at Luigi's Bar and that Leandro was sad that his lover had married.

"But it's ... two years ago, if I'm right. Why does he show up now? He wants you back? Leave his wife? Realized that he can't hide his very being a life long?"

Leandro was surprised about Daniel's quick comprehension. He nodded. "Exactly."

"And the kiss?"

"He tried. And I almost gave in."

Daniel patted his knee. "It's all right, Leandro." He darted a view outside and saw Vincenzo still standing at the very same point, looking over to the car. "He won't give up that easily it seems. Well," he said after a while, "It's not easy for him. You punished him for a mistake he made."

"And what do you want me to do?" Leandro asked angrily.

"Let's have a tramezzino, it will be a long night." Daniel looked at his young lover. "If you need time to think, you have it."

He turned Leandro's face to him. "But I won't give up. I like you too much." He kissed him. A quick kiss and Leandro relaxed instantly. He really had feared that Vincenzo could destroy what had begun.

"Then let us drive."

Galleria Borghese

"Me and Polio walk through a wondrous land of buildings

I had never seen before. A procession of young demigods

follows us, silently, careful not to disturb our new

found love. The temples are homaphrodotic because they

combine male and female characteristics: The altar of

Bacchus, for instance, is made of darkly veined marble

especially selected to express the virility of that

deity, and it is carved with a great phallus rigidly

rigorous. How I would like to touch that in reality . . .

but Polio at my side smiles and indicates for me to wait

until night falls."

Until night falls . . . . in the protection of the night he had to go to Luigi's Bar again. Gianluca breathed hard and shut the book with a bang. A faint puff of dust appeared. Instantly he was sorry for treating his treasure so badly. But his desires were getting the upper hand. In a rapid succession.

Once started he couldn't stop anymore. Restless he crossed the rooms, from his library to the little chamber where he hid his other treasures. The photos for instance. Snapshots of naked guys, taken in Chamber 4. Just the last victim was missing. And he had a vague idea who could have taken the film.

Luigi's Bar

Friday night at Luigi's Bar was a highlight. Despite the recent incidences it was stuffed with men of all ages. Daniel and Leandro had withdrawn to the upper stage and enjoyed the pop music of a quiet level. Leandro was thankful that Daniel didn't press him and demand an answer as to what Vincenzo still meant to him. He didn't know exactly himself. - Hell, he knew exactly himself! Daniel wasn't such a glorious appearance as his cousin was, and had perhaps not the wildness of the youth, nor Vincenzo's powers of persuasion; but Leandro felt safe with Daniel. Safe and comfortable. Somebody to rely on. Just Leandro doubted that he was ready himself to change his life once more - and in such a quick succession. He needed time to develop - and to make decisions.

"What do you want to drink?" Daniel asked him.

"Cola would be great." He watched Daniel disappearing in the crowd and propped his chin onto his palm. The chatting and laughing around , he didn't realize it was happening. Vincenzo's reappearing had shaken him; more than he would admit, even to himself. All the plans they had made for a future life together, far away from Volterra in a big town like Rome - where nobody would care if they were a pair or not. All these dreams could come true now as he had said some hours ago. But did Leandro want them to come true? Now, that he had come to terms that his lover was lost to him once and for all time? Not to mention his wife and what a shock it would be for her. Well, those things happened frequently he thought then and Lena shouldn't bother him.

Somebody slid in the seat next to him. "Alone again?"

Leandro's head flung around. Damn that. "Vincenzo! Madonna, why do you have to follow me always? How do you know?"

"I followed you with my borrowed car, that's all." He grinned. "And besides, I've never been to a gay bar before." He looked around. "Rome is full of hot guys, isn't it."

"Sure, just pick out one and vanish."

Vincenzo's blue eyes seemed to be black. Seriously he said, "Have you thought about it? I'm sure you don't understand how much I want you back. Now, that I've made up my mind everything seems easy to me. You just have to forget what happened. We can start the day new where I told you I want to marry."

Leandro sighed. "That's the point. I can't forget and start this day new. It has happened and nothing, really nothing, can make me forget this."

"But don't you love me anymore?"

Leandro glared at him. "I've never told you that I love you."

"You don't have to. I know you do."

Daniel stood there with two drinks - forlorn Leandro thought, but his face showed high anger. "Stop that game, boy," he said. "Leave us alone."

They measured each other with looks. Then Vincenzo slowly rose from his place and Daniel took it. He placed the glass with Cola upon the table a bit too hard. Some of it slopped over. Now Vincenzo stood and didn't move until Daniel looked at Leandro and said low, "Do you want to talk to him? Shall I go?"

"No. But I do have to talk to him. Not yet but later."

"You have heard him."

Vincenzo turned on his heels and vanished onto the dance floor. Leandro took a large gulp from his Cola and wiped his mouth. "Let's dance."

He pulled Daniel from his seat, lay his arms around his waist and moved with him to the music.

In a corner at the staircase Sascha was watching the pair. So far, for a new lover, he thought sadly. But then another young guy crossed his view, a short brush of hair, smiling at him, and waving his head in the direction of the dance floor. He followed this invitation and wrapped his arms around him.

It was a brand new feeling for Vincenzo. A long missed feeling. There had been only Leandro in his life so far until he had been forced to share the ring and the bed with a woman. He had learned that the differences weren't that big when he closed his eyes. Lena was a virgin and couldn't compare him to other men and their skills in bed; Vincenzo had the vague feeling that Lena wanted something more - or something better from him that he couldn't give her. More precisely: He didn't know what this should be. He caught himself when his hand between her legs was searching for something else, but there was nothing - just emptiness and a painful missed part. It wasn't any help when he satisfied himself under the shower, shoving a finger into his anus, remembering the feeling of Leandro's mouth around his penis... he couldn't tell Lena what he wanted; surely enough she would look at him as a pervert. Sex had to be clean and quick to make a baby. That the baby hasn't come yet was a source of pain for his wife and a great relief for himself. He watched her each Sunday talking to Peter Rudolfo, but all the Ave Maria's , the candles and prayers hadn't helped yet.

Vincenzo clutched the young man tightly, felt his body, the erection between his legs and knew tonight he would get lucky again - after all this long time. It wasn't Leandro, sure, but anyway; it didn't matter for the moment. Perhaps, if his old lover didn't want him back, he would find another? Say goodbye to his wife, to his family, to Volterra in general and start to live his real life. Looking into Sascha's big, dark eyes, he smiled. There were so many possibilities right now . . .

He glanced over to Leandro and Daniel on the dance floor; despite his jealousy he had to admit that they were looking fine together. Daniel had his head pressed against Leandro's cheek and was talking to him. Pain crawled into his heart. He knew Leandro's body like he knew his own, each curve, every scar. Leandro had been the braver of both; he had gone to live his own life. And he himself? Coward, he cursed. You were always a coward and always will be. Sascha's fingers crept to the bulge of his jeans, groping for the hardness. Vincenzo moaned as he followed Sascha to the toilets.

Twenty minutes later Leandro excused himself to the toilet. Some pairs were kissing and undressing themselves when he entered the room. One of the pairs were Sascha and Vincenzo. Leandro grinned to himself. Some problems solved themselves he thought.

He returned just in time to watch the performance of the strippers when he saw Sascha and Vincenzo taking seats a table behind them, Sascha tapping him on his shoulder. "Have you lost my phone number?"

"Huh?"

"I've waited for your call."

"Well . . . you've consoled yourself already I see." He blinked at his ex-lover who seemed to be very embarrassed. Vincenzo opened his mouth to say something but Leandro cut him. "Tell me rather what your brother said, did he hear something about the murderer?"

Sascha bent forward, so that just Leandro could hear him. "Nando has the film from the camera that was found in Chamber 4. There are photos of the victim, and the murder."

"What?" Leandro said excitedly.

"Nothing other than a figure with a hood and a cloak. No evidence who it could be. Looks like an elder man though."

"Why doesn't he hand it to the police? It could be dangerous for him."

"I have the photos and the negatives, they are well hidden, don't worry."

"You mean the photos showing the act of murder? I mean Paolo with the plastic bag upon his head?"

Sascha nodded.

"We need to hand it to the police!" Leandro said, then he caught a movement. The strippers had just finished their undressing, wriggled their asses into the audience and started fumbling at each other. Leandro's eyes though followed the man, leaving his table, going in the direction of the dark rooms. Could be any man but height and posture could be suitable for Cardinal Gianluca.

Sascha nudged Vincenzo and pointed to the entrance to the long corridor. Vincenzo shrugged not comprehending and Sascha whispered something. Then both rose and followed the man. Leandro shook his head. He looked at Daniel, absorbed by the view of the dancer, his cheeks slightly flushed. Leandro bet he had a hard-on. "Have you heard what Sascha said?" he asked him, near his ear. Daniel shook his head.

"Want to dance? I'll tell you then."

Half an hour later Daniel had seen and heard enough and just wanted to go to bed with Leandro, thus both made their way downstairs and passed the bodyguards at the entrance. From the distance they saw a police car with blue light on, but the siren was off.

Then suddenly Leandro stood face to face with Cardinal Gianluca Borghese-Caffarelli. He held a bag in his hand and seemed in a state of trance. He did recognize Leandro, he could see the flicker in his eyes, but he said nothing. His hair was wet from sweat and he had some red spots of excitement upon is face. In the next moment he was gone, vanished in a front door and Vincenzo stepped out of the bar's entrance.

Leandro was still too shocked to say anything. Daniel sensed it and took his arm. "What happened with you? You look as if you saw a ghost."

"I've seen a ghost certainly," Leandro stammered. "That . . that was the cardinal I've told you about. He was here, he recognized me." He looked with despair into Daniel's eyes. "What are we going to do now?"

"What are you talking about?" Vincenzo asked. He seemed to be angry.

Leandro shook his head. "Can't explain." Then he pulled himself together. "Police once more. Let us vanish."

Quickly they went to the other end of the street, found themselves in a medieval quarter of Rome, the streets narrow, the paint peeling off from the outside walls, it was wet and smelling.

Leandro breathed and leaned against a wall. "Where's Sascha?" he asked. Vincenzo sniffed. "Led me into a room. First we had been alone and it was great, but then the others entered. They wanted me to do things. . ." Leandro saw disgust upon his face. "Madonna, I've never seen such a long cock."

Leandro and Daniel looked at each other. "Where's Sascha now?"

Vincenzo shrugged. He stared incredulously after both men who were running back where they had fled from.

Gianicolo

Leandro and Daniel had awakened the whole house when they had returned. Another conference was called in the patio that led to Sebastian's garden. Kay's eyes were puffy for sleep or rather for sleeplessness. Ben and Simon came in sort of an exhausted state, just Marcus and Nicholas appeared pretty perky. They hadn't gone to bed at all. Wine glasses were still standing upon the table and remains of a pizza.

But now silence once more hung in the round. Tasso's report had been shattering: Sascha had been found dead in Chamber 20, a plastic bag upon his head. Again no traces, just a cord belonging to a cloak or similar garment. The only good news was that Sebastian had to be released tomorrow for he couldn't be the murderer.

Despite everything, Kay felt relieved to no end. He felt pity for that young guy but he couldn't help but feel happy to a certain extent. He looked over to Vincenzo, whom Daniel and Leandro had taken with them, and eyed him. He still didn't know who he was.

"You said, you were with Sascha alone in this room, yes?" Marcus asked him now. "And then two other men entered the chamber?" Vincenzo nodded. He had waited at the same spot for Leandro and Daniel to return and hadn't given this report to the police. Nobody wanted to be the one in custody now that Sebastian was there already.

"When the first murder happened you were not in Rome, there's no fear for you to go and give your report to the police tomorrow, Vincenzo," Marcus continued. "You're an important witness."

"And what makes you think that the murderer is always the same? It could be someone who jumps on the bandwagon."

"Could be, but I don't think so. This is the act of an insane person. How many lunatics would visit Luigi's bar at the same time, eh?"

"True."

"Can you describe him?"

"Just a dark figure against the candles. He seems like a monk to me. Hood and all. Nobody spoke a word. Sascha whispered to me that this he would be: the man with the long cock. I thought to faint. I . . ." he fell silent. Leandro knew how he felt. Vincenzo had no experiences except he himself, so this all must have frightened him.

He watched as Vincenzo rose. "I'll have to go now. I have a small room in a hospice."

But Marcus shook his head. "No way, stay here. Tomorrow morning we pick up Sebastian from prison and then you can give your report. Here's a couch where you can sleep."

Vincenzo accepted.

Luigi's Bar

Tasso sat in the small room where he prepared himself for his performances. He had the look of despair in his face. Saw the gray strands at the hairline and some in his brows too. He had went gray before his age, but that was not a problem. A real problem was that the bar was closed by the police indefinitely. Two murders in two weeks was much too much.

The door opened and Luigi stepped in. Silently he looked at his lover and smiled thinly. "That's it, amore," he whispered and embraced Tasso from behind. "Ten years are enough, don't you think?"

Tasso looked at him in the mirror. "What do you mean? You don't want to open again?"

Luigi shook his head. "Don't think it will ever be the same. You know that I have my license just for the fact I grease the palms of the vice squad. They know very well what's going on here, despite the strippers and the dark rooms. Luckily they can't prove any drugs here. And now . . ."

"But perhaps the people will come for just that reason: a sensation seeking you know. Imagine they could fuck in a chamber where guys lost their lives."

"Pervert," Luigi smiled. "At lease you have your job at Cerruti's and good as you are you can give your performances at any bar in town. Doesn't have to be gay necessarily."

Tasso turned to him. "And you?"

Luigi pulled him from his chair and emptied the glass of champagne for him. "And me? The money is safe, there's enough for both of us."

He led Tasso through the door, taking the champagne bottle with him and went upstairs to their flat. "I thought about Ischia? Capri? Squander our money as long as we have time for it."

"Sounds as if you're determined to die next month," Tasso giggled. "Hey," he said then, "there's still the fashion show to come. I've engaged the cute little boy from Sebastian to present the most hot pieces of my collection."

"YOUR collection? I thought you would present Cerruti?" Luigi asked surprised.

"Yeah, well . . . nobody will know when I smuggle in some of my own."

Luigi laughed roaringly. "That's my wildcat. Just make sure YOUR label is on the pants!"

"Sebastian will be out of custody tomorrow I assume," Luigi shouted from the shower. "That's at least good news."

"I don't know how anybody could think that Sebastian could kill someone," Tasso muttered. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and smeared his face with a lotion to get the dirt from it. He always had cared for his body but that he had forgotten to dye his hair was an unforgivable mistake.

"The police men don't know him, that's all." Luigi opened the glass doors and appeared naked, searching for his towel. He still look good, Tasso thought. After all these fifteen years . . . Interrupted by little 'trips aside' as both called it. Luigi knew that he had an affair with Sebastian years ago, when he had just started his life in Rome after he had left Berlin and his relationship with Marcus Weidenbruch. Sebastian had been hurt that time and tried to search for another Marcus in the dark rooms, even at the infamous Chamber 4. Tasso knew very well what was going on there and the rumour of that mysterious man with the long dong wasn't a secret for him. He just hadn't any idea who he could be. He came unnoticed, slipped into his cloak and hood that hid his face when he entered the rooms, and set the guys on fire.

Tasso flinched; his eyes searched the body of his lover. Just of average size, but what did it matter? It's not the size but the things he did with it.

Tasso cleared his face with water and stepped to Luigi, peeling off his towel, embraced him and hid his face in the crook of his neck.

"No, they don't know him," he said. "So it's settled then, yes? It's either Ischia or Capri?"

"Si, amore. Let's go to bed."