by Taylor Buck
“Yes…I wanted to ask you about him.” Jack paused not sure how to continue. “Mr. Forlino, is Kathleen’s life in danger?”
“Mr. Cullen, I have strong suspicion that your wife’s accident was not on account of mere coincidence. I believe that what happened to Dr. Foley and your wife was a deliberate attempt on their lives.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I have dependable sources Mr. Cullen. I also have my finger on the pulse of the city and I know when things are…off.”
Forlino’s vague references to both the accident and his social status were disconcerting. His tone was sincere, but something about his vagueness made Jack uneasy.
“Mr. Forlino, please elaborate if you would. This news is rather disturbing.”
There was a long and uncomfortable pause on the line. “I have a villa in Florence. I will send you the address and arrange transportation. Mr. Cullen, I would very much like to meet in person to discuss further.”
Meet in person? Why is he avoiding the question? Why won’t he talk about it now? It didn’t take a detective to know he was holding back information. “Mr. Forlino, I can’t leave my wife here alone. I appreciate your offer but—“
“Please,” Forlino interjected before Jack could finish, “These are matters best discussed in person…face-to-face. I hope you understand.”
Jack didn’t understand. Not any of it. But Forlino’s mysterious claims were tugging at him.
“I’ll think it over.”
“Che meraviglia! I’ll talk to you soon, Mr. Cullen. Ciao.”
Jack leaned forward and stared at the linoleum floor as he processed the conversation. Forlino was vague. Everyone was withholding information. Furthermore, Jack was battling over whether or not to bring the kids to see their mother. He knew the girls would want to be with their mom. Rightly so. It was a very difficult time for them to be away; but if Kat’s life really was in danger, then bringing the children to Switzerland definitely wasn’t a good idea. He decided against it until he knew more.
Evening soon came and Jack paced the halls of the ICU. The hospital was quiet. He had plenty of time to think… reflect… formulate possibilities and hypotheses of what happened to Kat. The gun… her fingerprints… What did it all mean? Ultimately the abundance of downtime only caused him to grow more restless and heightened his anxiety. He looked down at the Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand, realizing his fingers were shaking. It wasn’t the caffeine. He was simply operating on overdrive. Exhaustion was taking control. He was starting to blend his facts—a telltale sign of fatigue.
The sound of a man’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. Jack looked up just as Porto rounded the corner. Upon seeing Jack sitting there, he gave an awkward smile; like he wasn’t used to using his facial muscles in that fashion. He then shuffled into his chair outside Kathleen’s door and remained still.
The giant man was no longer a threat. In fact, due to recent information, Jack actually welcomed his presence. Extra security seemed fitting considering the circumstances. In spite of the language barrier, he turned out to be quite friendly and polite. He mostly kept to himself.
Jack eventually gave in to exhaustion. His mind was still running in circles but he forced himself to lie down. He made his way back to Kat’s room and lay under the bay window beside her. He whispered in her ear then closed his eyes and fell into a much-needed sleep.
CHAPTER 10
LUCERNE, SWITZERLAND
SEPTEMBER 7
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…
Jack awoke to the jarring tones of his phone alarm. He had set it for 7 am; however, his body was telling him it was the middle of the night. He felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. Also, the 6 hour time change was unsympathetic to the body and the internal clock.
He looked at his phone. The battery was nearly dead. He had forgotten to charge it overnight. After splashing some water on his face, he plugged the phone in and scrolled through his emails briefly to see if anything urgent stood out. Due to the flurry of activity the past few days, he had neglected to check a single email. He scrolled down the messages briskly, finding notes from colleagues, academic newsletters and an invite to speak at the Writers of America conference. Then he came across a message from Dean McDermott.
GOOD NEWS the subject line read in all caps.
Jack was just about to open it when he saw another message underneath it.
Re: Itinerary
The message was a reply from Kathleen. He must have missed it! He opened it quickly.
Jack,
I hope this gets through as I’ve had spotty reception all day. I’m in Switzerland. My phone doesn’t work here so I’ll try calling later. We had to leave Florence quickly because of a threat. I’ll tell you more when we speak, but it’s not safe there right now.
Try not to be worried though, we’re fine.
We packed up this morning. But before we left, we came across something—a letter from Lorenzo to Michelangelo. You wouldn’t believe what it said, Jack. He left us some sort of treasure map, apparently to a treasure he never himself could find.
Foley’s completely taken by the letter and won’t talk about anything else. He thinks we can use the MOTSUs to find it.
I’m a little hesitant to go…this whole thing is getting a little crazy!
Overall, it makes sense to go, though. It’s ideal terrain to field-test the MOTSUs traversing abilities. Fingers crossed.
I’ll call you tomorrow. Please don’t be worried.
Love you,
Kat
Oh my god! How did I miss this!
She had tried to contact him. Could he have saved her? Jack wished he could go back in time and warn her... But this was valuable information. He knew he needed to be careful with whom he shared it. He couldn’t trust anybody at the moment. He quickly changed focus and began to extract the pertinent details from the email.
What kind of threat? It obviously was enough to make them fear for their lives. They felt they needed to leave right away.
The Lorenzo she referred to was likely Lorenzo Medici, also known as Lorenzo the Magnificent. He was probably the most well-known member of the Medici family. Jack knew his biography well. Brilliant, athletic and charismatic, he nearly dumped all of the family money into commissioning the great works of art that were produced at the height of the Renaissance. Like his grandfather before him, Lorenzo took Florence to a new level of social recognition as the European epicenter of the arts, and the people loved him for it. At the peak of his fame he was one of the most prominent figures in Florence and throughout Europe.
The Michelangelo was undoubtedly the Michelangelo—Sistine Chapel… Pieta… David. Michelangelo Buonarroti. Master painter, sculptor and poet; arguably the most important artist of the Renaissance period. It made sense that Lorenzo would write to him seeing that Lorenzo had taken young Michelangelo under his wing. Michelangelo even lived with Lorenzo’s family during his early years in school. Lorenzo treated him like a son.
But she hadn’t gone into any specifics other than the letter mentioned a map.
That could mean any number of things. Actual treasure? Was it literal or figurative? Jack could only speculate. He wished she had been more detailed. She was obviously rushed—Kat was never this brief. But still…the note changed everything. They could certainly use this to gather more details. Jack felt re-energized, no longer flying blind. The email offered a sense of hope that he could actually find out what happened to her.
A gentle knock came from the door as Chester Allen poked his head in the room. “Jack? I didn’t wake you did I?” He was holding two cups of coffee, offering one to Jack.
“Chester!” Jack blurted. “You’re with us, right? All the way?”
Chester stopped mid-stride and shot Jack a look of confusion. He cocked his head to the side and stared inquisitively.
“With you?” he replied apprehensively. Chester couldn’t help but wonder if the stress had gotten to him.
&
nbsp; “I mean you’re here to help Kathleen in whatever means necessary, right?”
“Of course, Jack. What exactly are you getting at?”
“I’m going to need your help with something. I need you to come with me to Florence.”
“Oh, good,” Chester said with a sigh of relief. “You’re going to meet with Forlino?”
“Yes. But I also want to retrace Kathleen’s steps.” Jack paced around the room. “I want to know everything she did there. In fact, I want to follow her route exactly through Florence up until her disappearance in Switzerland.”
“Okay,” said Chester, still confused on Jack’s newfound enthusiasm. “I understand your interest, but why the change? I thought you didn’t want to get involved in all of this.”
Jack dug into his pocket. “Because everything has changed. Now I know what Kat was doing in Switzerland.” He held up his phone so that Chester could read it. Chester took a moment to read over the email then stepped back in surprise.
“When did you find this?”
“Just now while I was clearing my emails.”
“That’s why they were in Switzerland! A letter?”
“A map,” Jack corrected.
“To what?”
“Well, that’s what Kathleen was trying to find out. Did we ever get the scans back from the night of the accident?”
“They’re still running through image analysis back in Boston. It’s processing now. We should have it finished tomorrow.”
“Shoot. It takes that long?”
“It’s a lot of data. The MOTSUs gather many terabytes of information that need defragmenting in order to create an accurate 3D modeling of the subsurface. Kathleen was brilliant enough to read the data raw and form the map in her mind. Frankly, she was amazing at it. But without her here to decipher, it takes longer.”
“We need that scan,” Jack said with a look of determination. “They found something, Chester. We need to find out what it was.”
“I may be able to speed things up,” Chester replied with a wandering gaze, as if he was formulating an idea in his mind. He turned back. “So you want to go to Florence?”
“Yes, and I need you to come with me.”
“What about Kathleen?”
Jack looked over at his wife resting in bed. “Kathleen would do the same thing. She wouldn’t have wanted me to sit around and wait for her. I know her,” Jack said, assuredly. “She would want to see this through to the end. Besides, the doctor said there’s nothing I can do. She wakes up when she wakes up; I can’t determine when that will be.” He walked over to Kathleen’s bed and looked down at her—peaceful, angelic. He caressed her hand softly then looked back at Chester. “I need to find out what happened to my wife. I’m sure you can understand.” His steady tone was certain and unwavering.
Chester looked up over his dark frames. “Okay. But you are going to meet with Forlino, right?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. It seems we have a plan. But since TerraTEK won’t allow me to let you out of my sight…we’re going to be making this trip together.”
“I can live with that.”
“Don’t worry,” Chester said with a smile. “You’ll be happy I came along.” He quickly flashed his TerraTEK credit card.
“Wait. I wasn’t implying—”
“Of course you weren’t,” Chester replied with a smirk. “It’s the least we can do.”
Jack placed a hand on Chester’s back appreciatively. “Thank you for your help with all of this. Now, I know Kat was discreet with her findings, so it’s not going to be easy…but I think if we can retrace her steps we may be able to find her notes.”
“We’ve already tried that.”
“We’ll try again. We’ll follow her steps and figure it out. It’s either here in Switzerland or back in Florence,” Jack said. “Besides, you’re telling me the world’s top surveillance company can’t track down a single laptop?”
Chester waived him off. “Kathleen’s was encrypted…to stop people like us from finding it.”
“Then we’ll go after her diary. Kathleen kept a log of each dig and wrote notes in it. It was her way of assimilating her thoughts.”
“Wait. She kept a written log?” Chester gasped. “That’s a violation of policy. It infringes upon TerraTEK’s preventative security protocol.”
Jack looked at him and shook his head. “Every genius has their way of achieving greatness, Chester. You can’t stand in the way.”
Chester raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
Jack scrolled through the browser on his phone. “There’s a train leaving Lucerne in thirty minutes…”
Chester nodded and pocketed his phone. “Yeah, I know. You and I are both on it.”
CHAPTER 11
FLORENCE
1465
LORENZO PEERED UP AT the sky. The stars were magnificent—sparkling like diamonds in the heavens. A summer breeze carried the fragrance of acacia blossoms through the streets below while the sound of harps filled the thoroughfares with gentle melodies. The court musicians were tuning their strings and beginning their arrangements just a few blocks away. Banners were hung and wine barrels delivered, preparations were in order. One by one, the townspeople exited their houses and made their way over to the Piazza Santa Croce for the evening’s festivities. The moon was bright. The air was sweet. The night seemed magic.
Excitement welled inside as Lorenzo practiced his lines one last time, reciting the words he had carefully crafted and composed exclusively for tonight’s events. Within the hour he would be speaking before the whole of Florence including visiting members of nobility from Rome. The eyes of many powerful men would be on him. His father had cleverly arranged it so as to showcase his son’s potential—a strategic move to gain the affection of their Roman neighbors to the south. Lorenzo happily accepted. Every performance was a challenge to his abilities and he lived for the excitement, rising to each and every occasion when his father asked.
“Lorenzo!”
His dear friend, Poliziano, called to him from the stairwell. “Come on! You don’t want to be late to your own party.”
“I’ll be right down,” Lorenzo answered, fastening the final button on his doublet.
He ran down the stairs and met Poliziano in the vestibule. Together they exited the Medici palace through the back doors and filed into the crowded streets. Lorenzo wrapped a large black cloak around him in order to conceal the bright garments beneath. He didn’t want to draw attention…not yet anyway.
“Do you think she will be there?” Lorenzo said eagerly.
“Of course she will,” answered Poliziano. “All of Tuscany will be there tonight. Including your violetta.” Poliziano laughed and jabbed his friend playfully.
“Don’t call her that,” Lorenzo said.
“Why not? Is it not obvious? You write about her, do you not?”
“I write what my heart tells me,” Lorenzo replied.
Poliziano turned to him. “Then be encouraged, my friend. Your heart is what the people want. It is a gift. Mark my words, Lorenzo, tonight you will set your place as the prince of Florence.”
The crowd began to open up and the piazza came into view. Across the busy square stood the Basilica di Santa Croce, the beautiful cathedral standing guard over the event like a stern chaperone. Lorenzo could see a large stage in the middle of the square. Lanterns were strung overhead, stretching across from building to building like ornately woven thread. Brightly colored banners hung from every doorway bearing the colors of both the Medici and the Roman guests. The musicians strummed their lyres and plucked their harps in harmony while the people danced merrily. The piazza was filled with joyous celebration.
“Good luck, my friend.” Poliziano patted Lorenzo on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. It was time for Lorenzo to join his mother and father on stage.
Lorenzo ascended the steps and took a seat next to Piero, his father.
“Are you prepared my son?” Piero
asked, keeping a stoic face on the crowd.
“Yes, Father.”
“Very well. Speak to the people and make them love you.”
“Yes, Father. As you wish.”
The music quieted and the dancing ceased. It was time. Piero slowly rose to his feet. He stepped to the front of the stage, walking carefully and favoring his left leg ever so slightly. His pain was severe, but he tried never to show it. Lorenzo knew this was difficult for him. His father hated to speak publicly. He was socially uncomfortable but most of all, his physical ailment was a point of shame for him. A nagging case of the gout had haunted Piero most of his life and as he grew older it only seemed to worsen. He had retreated from most public outings and instead relied on Lorenzo to entertain the relations of city affairs and visiting officials. Lorenzo couldn’t bear to see his father become weakened by fear, or even worse…ridiculed by the public. He supposed the need to protect his father’s pride was what ultimately urged him to take the spotlight away so willingly. Young Lorenzo loved his father and sought more than anything to spare him any embarrassment.
“My dear friends,” Piero rasped. “Citizens and noble guests. I welcome you here tonight to give honor to our great city… Firenze.”
The people cheered loudly. The sense of pride was palpable.
“Tonight we celebrate a collective objective to return glory to this land and set in stone the alliance made long ago with our brothers to the south. Join me as we honor our guests with a gift to signify our friendship. To do so, I present to you my eldest son, Lorenzo.”
The court cheered wildly as Lorenzo stepped forward. He removed his cloak with a swift jerk, revealing a bright crimson robe that hung from his broad shoulders—expensively crafted and embroidered with the crowned keys of the Papal states. The crowd gasped as they revered the vivid display of colors. The rich red was a bold contrast to both the bright yellow doublet across his chest and the yellow beret atop his head. His wardrobe was a blatant tribute to the colors of Rome, and his visitors applauded the homage with cheers. The light from the lanterns above reflected across the bright colors and made him shine like a star on stage. He bowed to the right where his guests were seated. As he brought his head up, his eye caught sight of a beautiful, elegant female seated tall with bravura atop the stage’s pavilion. Her striking green eyes and disarming smile nearly took the breath from his lungs.