Turned to Stone

by Jorge Magano

  Clark stood at the shower for a moment, assessing the situation. There was no one in view. Without a second thought, he fired twice at the screen, making two holes that spidered out into tiny cracks. No sound came from inside.

  He fired again at two different points. Same result. Slowly he approached and laid his hand on the aluminum knob. Holding the pistol firmly in one hand, he reached out with the other and jerked the screen open.

  A jet of pressurized deodorant doused his face a second before becoming consumed by a sudden burst of flames. Clark only had time to fire once before his hands flew to his blazing head. Screaming horribly, he ran to the sink and doused himself under the faucet.

  From where he was crouched in the shower, Jaime put Roberto’s lighter back in his pocket, dropped the can of deodorant, and struggled to his feet. He ran out of the shower and stood over Clark, who was now writhing in pain on the floor in a puddle of water.

  “I’m sorry,” Jaime said, genuinely regretful for what he was about to do.

  Then he put the sole of his foot on the back of the attacker’s head and crushed his face against the floor. Clark stopped moving.

  There was nobody in the hallway. Angelo Carrera had disappeared, and there was no sign of the maid, either. All that was there was the bleeding corpse of Alvino Nascimbene. Jaime was about to return to the elevator, but then he changed his mind. There was one thing he had to do first. He owed it to Paloma.

  He retraced his steps and kicked the lock on the door to the room beside the one where the paintings were stored. But he had nothing like the brute force of Roberto Barrero, and the door didn’t budge. The only reward for his efforts was the pain in his foot so intense he was afraid he’d broken every bone in it. “The key! The fucking key!” he muttered through clenched teeth.

  He knew Carrera must keep the key somewhere in the apartment, but there was no time to search for it. He went to Nascimbene’s body, took his pistol, and fired twice at the lock before—using the other foot this time—he kicked the door again. This time it burst open.

  The room was small and virtually empty. Through the darkness Jaime could make out a prismatic object leaning against the back wall. He flicked the light switch, and as the object became illuminated, his eyes lit up, too. The object was a meter and a half tall and was draped in a sheet.

  Jaime approached and pulled off the covering, and he suddenly felt as if the ground had vanished from under his feet.

  From on top of a square base, the white head of a woman stared back at him with fierce eyes and wild hair, looking furious to find herself there. To Jaime, she appeared to be screaming to be set free.

  “Medusa . . .” He was overcome with emotion and added more quietly. “Why aren’t you here, Paloma?”

  For a moment it felt as though the danger had dissolved in that mystical space. The fear and tension had disappeared. Jaime felt just one thing: pride at reaching the end.

  Since the beginning of this adventure, Jaime had encountered several pairs of eyes that had been full of hatred, brimming with rage and pain. But none of them had been equal to the expression of wrathful violence that some long-ago Greco-Roman master—with Andrea Bolgi’s later, unsolicited assistance—had managed to confer upon on the marble.

  Jaime dialed Roberto’s cell phone, but his friend appeared to have turned his phone off. He took a few photos of the bust from various angles. So absorbed was he in savoring the feeling of triumph that he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps hurrying down the corridor.

  Rosa Mazi burst in. “Where’s my father?”

  “Hiding in his bedroom, I presume.” Jaime continued to take photographs.

  “And Clark?”

  “In the bathroom. Cooling off.”

  Jaime turned and faced her, standing up as tall as he could. He didn’t remember her being so tall and sinewy, but he was long past being impressed. He felt his strength and confidence returning, as if the Medusa were passing him some of her power.

  “Long time no see, ‘Sandra.’ ”

  Rosa hesitated. She felt uneasy. This tense situation was not exactly of her design, but she certainly had contributed. “Who killed Amatriaín?”

  “It’s not Amatriaín. That was Alvino Nascimbene.”

  “What?”

  “Your father will explain it to you from his prison cell.”

  “The hell he will! Help me get it out of here.”

  It took Jaime a moment to understand what she was asking. Once he did, he gave Rosa a mocking smile. “Don’t you get it? It’s all over. Your father, your brother, Clark—your whole stinking organization has gone to shit. All you are now is a headline in tomorrow’s papers.”

  “That’s not true! Tonight’s the night everything is supposed to change. We have to clear out this apartment and get rid of anything that might implicate us. I just want a normal life—A normal life!”

  “Rosa, what’s going on here?”

  They turned toward the voice. In the doorway was a slim man in a close-fitting suit with very short hair. He stood there looking at them.

  “Dino!”

  “I couldn’t find you, so I went down to the basement to look for you. The police are here.”

  Rosa went pale.

  “The police?”

  “Someone complained about the noise. Who are those two people in the trunk? And the body in the corridor? Good God, Rosa—is there something you want to tell me?”

  “What people?” Jaime asked. “What trunk?”

  “What have you done with them?” Rosa asked.

  “I left them there; I didn’t know whether they were dangerous. I don’t understand any of this, honey. What’s going on?”

  “She can explain later,” Roberto Barrero said, shoving Dino into the room. Behind him, Paloma was wearing an expression of indignation that disappeared as soon as she followed Roberto into the room and spied the Medusa.

  “Jesus . . .”

  Jaime opened his arms to indicate the breadth the room. “I don’t think Jesus is in here, but it is beginning to get a bit cramped. Did you two get yourselves into trouble?”

  “Clark found us and tied us up,” Roberto said. “Then your girlfriend stuck us in a fucking trunk. Her fiancé found us, but he left us there. Good thing the rope was so ancient.”

  “Jaime, you’re bleeding!” Paloma cried. Jaime touched his side, and his hand was bloody when he pulled it away. One of Clark’s bullets had found him, but, to his surprise, he hadn’t felt any pain. As he bent over to examine his wound, Rosa swung around and snatched Nascimbene’s pistol from him. She walked over to the doorway and blocked the exit.

  “Right, everyone at the back of the room!” She aimed the weapon at them.

  Dino appeared stunned. “Honey!”

  Jaime gave him a sympathetic look. “New to the family, huh?”

  “Shut up!” Rosa screamed, aiming at Jaime’s chest.

  Everyone in the room stood as still as the Medusa herself. Then Rosa raised the gun to her own temple.

  “What are doing, Rosa?” Dino looked and sounded horrified. “Honey, don’t do anything stupid. Let’s talk about it.”

  “It’s too late.” She began to sob. Her hands were trembling, and she beat the pistol against her head. “Everything’s lost, Dino.”

  “No, that’s not true.”

  “Listen to Dino. Every situation has a solution.” Jaime tried to ignore his wound, but he was beginning to feel dizzy.

  “Rosa, my darling!”

  Rosa stood in the same position for what seemed like an eternity. She looked at Jaime, then Dino, and then the Medusa, an expression of hatred gradually forming on her face. Then she turned the gun away from her head and pointed it at the creature. “This is all your fault.”

  “No!” screamed Paloma as Rosa opened fire on the sculpture.

 
; Angelo Carrera quickly understood that he was running out of time. As soon as he heard Clark shooting at the bathroom door, he steered his electric wheelchair to the apartment at the end of the hallway. In one of his private rooms was the control panel he used to communicate with the Phoenix. Unfortunately, there was no one on the boat who could help him now. If the police weren’t already on their way after questioning Dr. Galliano, they would be as soon as a neighbor reported the gunshots. The need for escape was urgent.

  Signora Rizzo, resigned to postponing her boss’s juice and vitamins for the time being, had taken their luggage down to the garage and would be back to collect him shortly. But first, it was essential that Clark and Rosa help him with the Medusa.

  “For the love of God!” he called out. “Where is everyone?”

  The door opened and someone entered the room. From the smell of mothballs, he gathered it was the maid.

  “Signora Rizzo. And my daughter?”

  “I don’t know, Signor Angelo,” the woman said in a plaintive tone. “But we have to go now.”

  “Not without the Medusa!”

  “I am responsible for looking after you. Not your toys.”

  Signora Rizzo took the wheelchair by the handles and briskly pushed him from the room, ignoring his loud protests. They went around Alvino Nascimbene’s body and bolted for the hidden elevator, descended to the basement, and continued on to the garage. With a great deal of effort, Signora Rizzo managed to cram the wheelchair into the cab of the truck. It was the first time in years that Carrera had left his gloomy apartment, and even the fluorescent lights were too bright for his ruined eyes. After securing the wheelchair in place, the signora closed the door and went off in search of Rosa.

  Angelo was afraid Clark and Rosa wouldn’t manage to carry out his plan. The packages were in the entrance hall, and the paintings were packed up and ready to be transported. There was just one other thing he needed: something more important and valuable to him than all the paintings cached in that apartment. But he couldn’t get it down without help.

  That damned Clark. And where was Rosa? Why were they taking so long?

  So much work, sacrifice, and money would be wasted if they didn’t hurry. They had to get rid of all the merchandise, and the only way to do it was to hide it in the warehouse until they could transport it by road or sea. The paintings and gold artifacts were the least of the treasure. One item above all others had to be saved.

  Then all of a sudden, his hopes were shattered.

  He heard the sound of the garage door opening, and half a dozen men with automatic weapons surrounded the vehicle and yelled at him to freeze. Angelo Carrera protested, but he knew it was useless. With a heavy heart, he lowered his head and sat motionless.

  His dream of power and wealth was over.

  48

  “The Medusa!” Paloma couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “What have you done?”

  The bullet had penetrated the marble and was lodged there, right between the creature’s eyes. Rosa dropped the pistol and fell to her knees, sobbing like a child. Dino crouched beside her and took her in his arms.

  Jaime moved to do the same with a stricken Paloma. “They’ll be able to repair it,” he assured her. “The important thing is that we’ve found it. Consider this my way of saying I’m sorry.”

  Paloma gave him a sad look. “Most people give flowers, or chocolates, or a spa day. Or diamond rings.”

  “I’ve always been more original than that.”

  “I’m touched by the gesture.” Paloma shrugged off Jaime’s arm and began to pace around the bust. “But I doubt they’ll let me keep it.”

  As Jaime watched, Paloma stopped in front of the spot where the bullet had lodged. She appeared to be trying to look past it to some greater truth about the lump of marble that had been so neatly carved some twenty-four centuries before.

  So absorbed were they by the moment’s magnificence, they didn’t even notice that Rosa was crying on the floor, in a panic. Dino still crouched beside her, unable to grasp even a fraction of what was going on.

  “Can you explain to me what’s happened here?” he begged them.

  “There’s not much to explain.” Roberto took his camera from his jacket pocket. “The monster has been freed. Paloma, get in the shot. Not you, Jaime, you’ll ruin it.”

  Seeming to have shrugged off her agitation, Paloma straightened her dress, smoothed down her hair, and went to pose with the Medusa. That piece of marble was entwined with the story of her life, and it was only right that she appear in the photographs that would document this historic discovery.

  “That’s it, stand beside her. Like a huntress with her prey.” Roberto pressed the shutter release. “That’s it.”

  Paloma endured having several photos taken with the bust, but her anxiety began to grow. “Stop, Roberto, I have to check.” She took the bust in her hands and tried to shift it on its pedestal. “We have to find out whether the legend’s true.”

  Jaime looked at her in surprise. “You think the blood’s in there?”

  “We have to consider all the possibilities,” Paloma said.

  Jaime and Roberto exchanged glances and smiled. “Does it have an opening mechanism?” Roberto picked up Rosa’s pistol. “Maybe our friend wants to shoot it a couple more times. Or I could just do it.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Dino exclaimed.

  “Nothing important. You mind your own business.”

  “It’s your decision, Paloma.” Jaime took her by the arms and looked her straight in the face. “Do you want to see if the Medusa bleeds?”

  “No . . . I don’t know. I suppose I can wait until the lab tests. Scans, X-rays . . .”

  Roberto cocked the weapon and aimed at the marble. “Are you sure? Make up your mind quickly.”

  “No! Don’t do it, Roberto.”

  “Really? Last chance.”

  “Really.”

  “It’s your call.”

  Just as Roberto lowered the gun, there came a bang that made the room shake.

  Jaime and Paloma watched, stunned, as Roberto dropped the pistol and collapsed. A grotesque apparition with a blackened face walked into the room, carrying a smoking gun.

  “No, Clark!” Rosa screamed.

  “Shut up, cousin.”

  Shaken by Roberto’s fall, Jaime was all but paralyzed, but he managed to push Paloma down behind the statue’s pedestal. He remained standing, with no possibility of escape in any direction.

  Clark planted himself in front of Jaime and smiled like a condemned man who’d survived being charred by the fires of hell. “You and I have some unfinished business. I’m gonna love seeing your face when this whore dies.” He looked down at Paloma and aimed the gun at her head.

  “No, please. Not her—”

  “Arrivederci, brown-eyed girl!”

  Clark curved his finger over the trigger, but before he could press it, he sensed movement above his head. Looking up, he came face-to-face with the fierce Medusa. He opened his mouth to scream, but before any sound could come out, the block of heavy marble struck his forehead.

  Clark reeled and fell to the floor, his skull ruined. Jaime didn’t care whether he was dead or alive. He dropped the bust of Medusa, which fell to the floor with a loud thud, and grabbed Paloma’s trembling hand to help her up.

  “Are you all right?” Jaime asked.

  “I think so. What did you do to the Medusa?”

  “I’m sorry. There was nothing else within reach.”

  Only then did they remember that on the other side of the pedestal, next to a traumatized Rosa and Dino, lay Roberto’s body.

  He was lying facedown above an expanding pool of blood. Jaime pressed his jacket against the wound and applied direct pressure, trying to stop the profuse bleeding.

  “Roberto . . . Rob
erto, can you hear me?”

  A weak nod of the head told Jaime that Roberto could.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like shit.”

  “Try to save your strength. We’ll get you out of here.”

  “No. Jaime. Listen—”

  “You can talk and move. That means the bullet didn’t hit your spine or lungs. So if you try to stay still—”

  “Forget it. It’s game over for me.”

  “What are you talking about?” But Jaime knew what his friend was saying. He just couldn’t accept that Roberto might really be dying.

  Roberto smiled and blood spilled from his mouth.

  Jaime’s eyes filled with tears. It seemed impossible that after so many dangers, his friend would end his days like this. But the wound was serious, and time was running out. “An ambulance!” he cried out in distress. “For God’s sake, someone call an ambulance!”

  Dino and Rosa watched the scene unfold from where they sat on the floor, rendered immobile by shock. Jaime looked at Paloma, who was equally distressed. Her eyes were welling up, and all signs of the hope she’d shown earlier had been erased. Jaime knew that they needed to pick Roberto up, carry him to the building’s garage, get a vehicle, and drive him to the nearest hospital.

  His friend was dying, and he wasn’t about to just sit there with his arms crossed while that happened.

  Then, as if guided by a spell, his teary gaze fell upon Medusa’s head, lying forgotten on the floor a few meters away. The blow had split the marble around the bullet hole, leaving a cavity surrounded by cracked stone.

  Jaime leapt to his feet and, without thinking twice, threw the head against the wall with all his might. Some chunks of marble broke away and fell to the floor. Looking distraught, he picked the bust up once more and threw it again. A terrified Paloma, crouched next to Roberto, just watched.

  “Come on!” Jaime picked up the head again and threw it to the ground with even more force. “Come on! Where are you?”