(The story is posted in two parts due to LJ size constraints. Follow the link at the end of Part One to get to Part Two.)
DEATH IN VENICE
They stood on the quay outside Marco Polo Airport, their luggage piled about them, waiting for the water taxi that would convey them across the Venetian Lagoon to their hotel. Illya shivered, and raised the collar of his trench coat against the bitter wind blowing in off the Adriatic.
“It never fails,” he muttered. “Every time we are in Venice, I end up with a head cold.”
“Quit complaining, tovarisch,” Napoleon replied cheerfully. He shaded his eyes with his hand, hoping to get a better view of the stunning brunette in the chartreuse minidress, just now climbing out of a taxicab.
“I am not complaining. I am merely stating the facts. Venice is not good for my health. Remember what happened the last time we were here?”
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