by Taylor Buck
“He stole that from us, too,” Chester’s tiny voice interjected.
“You mean nanopaper,” said Jack.
“Exactly.”
“And it transmits an image of the scan?” asked Jack.
“It transmits anything… photos, video... whatever. I can roll it up and take it with me wherever I like.” Forbes picked it up, twisted it, stretched it and folded it to display its pliability.
“And you’ve already got a reading from your bots?” asked Jack
“More or less. It’s not perfect but it’s good enough to prove me right,” said Forbes, “See here.” He motioned to a hollowed area in the lower left corner of the map. “I think the secret room is right there.”
Jack could see a maze of intersecting lines beneath the villa. The reading was rough, not nearly as clean as the one he would receive from his GPR bots, but there was definitely a room shown burrowed deep underground.
My god… it’s really here.
Something stood out to Jack and struck him as ironic—the location. The room was situated directly under the secret garden. Whether or not it was coincidence, the pattern crafted into the boxwood hedges above ground was the shape of a cross… or if turned sideways, a letter X.
X marks the spot…
“Look here,” Forbes pointed out. “It looks like there’s a series of tunnels down there, judging by these contour lines. The tunnels go all the way from below the house out to the main entryway.”
Both men turned and looked out the east window. The view of the front gate was only faintly visible in the darkness. A row of gnarled trees obstructed their view and stood between them and the gated entrance.
“Listen, Jack,” said Forbes. “We can help each other—put our heads together to get this done. Like old times.” He motioned to the map before him, as if to hand it over.
Jack smirked and shook his head. His conscience was telling him he knew better. It was the “old times” that had caused him to despise Morgan Forbes. Before Kat was even in the picture, Jack and Forbes had done their fair share of expeditions. They met at Harvard where they discovered they had similar paths of interest. Forbes was working as an adjunct professor, mainly as a means to access the university lab tools for his inventions, and Jack was an undergraduate. Even though Forbes was 10 years Jack’s senior, the two immediately connected. Jack was drawn to Morgan’s quasi-Indiana Jones persona, while Forbes enjoyed Jack’s vast knowledge of ancient history. Money had changed that, though—money, fame and greed. It certainly showed Forbes’ true colors. He was willing to sell anyone or anything out in order to get what he wanted—which made his present offer rather laughable. Jack knew better. But on the other hand, he didn’t have much of an option either. The scan wasn’t finished yet and probably wouldn’t be for a few more minutes. Unfortunately, Forbes was the one holding the advantage. If they didn’t work together, Jack knew he would be forfeiting his stake in the claim.
“Okay, Morgan,” Jack said calmly. “I’m in. Let’s do it.”
CRAAAASH!
No sooner had the words left his mouth, when the kitchen window next to him exploded. Glass flew in all directions as Jack and Forbes covered their heads instinctively and ducked down. A metal canister rattled across the ground and hit the wall behind them. It was small and dark grey. Jack tried to read the letters imprinted in white, but it was facing away from them. As soon as it met the base of the wall, a small puff of white smoke exited the top of the can. Another puff, then it began spewing a thick cloud in a steady stream, billowing and quickly filling the room.
“What is that?” Jack yelled.
“I don’t know!”
The air turned bitter—acrid. Jack felt his lungs abruptly constrict as if he had just inhaled a spoonful of cayenne pepper and his body was sending alarms to his nervous system.
Mustard gas? Jack had no idea what kind of toxin was releasing into the air, but he knew he had to get away from it. He stayed low and covered his face with his sleeve, then ran toward the hallway trying not to inhale the white smoky substance. Forbes stayed close behind. They sprinted to the opposite side of the villa and entered the center room from which Jack had originally entered. As soon as they reached the stairwell, Jack stopped. Forbes bumped into him and nearly shoved him down the stairs.
“Wait!” Jack shouted.
The stairs were dark, but faint movements were visible at the base of the stairs—strange sounds too… scratching or dragging. Another bot? No… Somebody was down there. He was grasping onto the railing, draping over it sluggishly—dragging his feet slowly up the stairs. Jack flicked the stairwell light on. The man’s pale, pallid face came into view… his eyes, blankly staring at the steps before him. He had a horrifyingly unnatural look on his face—deathly horrifying.
“My god…” Jack said.
The caretaker.
“Signore!” Jack called out as he began to descend the steps to help him, but suddenly another figure emerged into the stairwell. An imposing, shadowy figure at the foot of the steps… a long blade gripped tightly in his hand, dark red and glistening.
Il fantasma.
CHAPTER 41
MARSILIO FICINO, RECOVERED JOURNAL ENTRY
An excerpt from Marsilio Ficino’s journal discovered among the Medici letters.
Located in the second room, adjacent to the primary vault. Row J, column 12. Translation by Vincent Sordi, Director of UNESCO Regional Bureau, Italy
17, July 1480
Weariness fills my troubled mind.
Solace of any kind is unattainable in this current state. Cursed is the burden bestowed to me, as I am a prisoner to its dominance. Sorrow fills the one whom I have been appointed to guide. Upon the untimely death of Giuliano, Lorenzo has been an altered soul. I have seen the transformation of his countenance occur with mine own eyes. Fear. The misshapen entity of wickedness and deceit, takes many forms yet ultimately feasts upon even the most gallant of men in due time. Fear. The rampart of doubt that drives a nail of iniquity between foe and family, blackens the brilliance of my troubled companion. I, too, fear. Even as I place ink to parchment, I fear for our leader. And most of all, I fear that all that has been preserved, the legacy of the ages, could be in peril of abolition...
CHAPTER 42
FLORENCE, MEDICI VILLA AT FIESOLE
SEPTEMBER 10
THE CARETAKER LOST HIS grip on the railing and fell helplessly to the wooden steps. A pool of blood darkened the tail of his shirt and trailed down the stairs behind him. Jack could see a jagged rip in the old man’s shirt, revealing a fatal stab wound. As the hooded figure below emerged onto the stairs, Jack got a better look at the weapon. He appeared to be wielding a long dagger, about 11 inches in length. The metal guard curved upward like some kind of medieval rapier. It hung loosely at the side of the assailant as he peered up at Jack and Forbes through a dark mask, obscuring his face from recognition. He had on a thick cloak that draped from the hood atop his head to the ridge of his tall boots. Thick leather cuffs stretched along both forearms and wrapped around his beltline for protection. His wardrobe alone was bewildering—absurdly out of place.
The men froze stiff and stared down the hallway. Then suddenly, with a swift strike, the figure below reached out his blade and dashed the overhead light to pieces.
Darkness.
Jack could hear Forbes breathing heavily behind him.
The stairwell was black… Jack couldn’t see a thing. Any degree of advantage dissipated as Jack and Forbes stood helplessly in the dark corridor. They were vulnerable. Defenseless. With options quickly growing slim, the men went with the only strategic counter available—they both turned and ran back up the stairs. It seemed a cowardly response, but based on their odds, staying in the stairwell was certain death. They burst into the main room and ran across the room to the doorway. Jack slammed the door shut as Forbes pushed a heavy chase lounge across the threshold, blocking access into the upper level rooms.
“Jack? What’s goi
ng on over there? Talk to me,” Chester demanded over the earpiece.
“The man in black… the phantom is here,” Jack whispered. “He’s inside the house.”
“Who are you talking to?” snapped Forbes angrily, noticing Jack speaking to himself.
“Shhh,” Jack said, holding his finger to his lips.
Traces of white began appearing in wisps at the base of the hallway. The room was beginning to fill up with smoke.
“We’ve got to get out of here now,” Jack said. He darted across the room to the loggia and glanced outside, keeping his body safe behind a thick column. “We might be able to escape down the side of the house. The garden bed will break our fall.” He looked over at Forbes, who was rummaging through his side bag, pulling out a case. Jack realized he had left his duffle bag in the kitchen, which held his tablet along with whatever defense gadgets Chester had left for him.
“You do it your way,” Forbes said. “I’ll do it mine.”
Jack couldn’t tell what that actually meant. “Chester, do you see anyone else outside?” Jack asked. “Where are you?”
“I’m following someone along the east end,” he replied. “I think it’s the one who tried to gas you.”
He’s on the east side already? Jack thought. How had he gotten there so fast?
“Who the hell is Chester?” snapped Forbes. “Who are you talking to?”
“Chester Allen… from TerraTEK,” Jack responded. “He’s been helping lead the investigation.”
Forbes looked baffled. He responded with a dismissive shrug as he unzipped his rucksack. Jack looked over to the door they had barricaded. He tried to listen for footsteps, but Forbes was making lots of noise rifling through his pack.
“Shhh!”
“Here!” Forbes said, throwing a black metal object to him. The cold piece landed in his hands awkwardly. The letters along the metal barrel read:
Ruger .45
“Like I said,” Forbes reiterated. “Your way, or my way.”
Jack held it apprehensively. The cold steel brought back a flood of emotions all at once. Firearms. He despised them. Screw it. He didn’t know if it was the current circumstances or self-preservation for the sake of his kids, but he had no problem welcoming this gun at the moment. Opposite him, Forbes slid back the action and cocked the handgun, handling it with apparent ease and experience. The metallic click, CLICK, pierced the stillness inside the villa and brought a sobering sense of gravity to the situation.
He killed the caretaker… skewered the old man like it was nothing.
Jack felt sick thinking about the caretaker’s horrid face. Stay alive, Jack. Think of the girls. Think of Val and Annie. He needed to defend himself now, whatever way necessary. The man who attacked his wife was here…and now coming after him. Jack slid the action on the handgun and prepped a round in the chamber. The clattering metal caused him to shudder.
“Someone is approaching the west end,” Chester informed. “They’re in the garden.”
They’re right below us.
Jack crept across the loggia and stayed low. The exposed railing made them an open target, but with an elevated position they would have the upper hand. He looked over at Forbes and motioned to the garden, informing him that someone was out there. Forbes nodded. They both took position behind large columns along the breezeway. The banister was 8 feet away. Outside, the moon had just begun to light the sky, casting a silver shimmer across the garden foliage. Jack thought he heard the gravel crunch below…possibly the sound of faint footsteps. He crouched down and prepared his weapon, making sure the safety was off. Jack motioned to Forbes to standby. At his signal, they would rush the banister. He held up his fingers…
One…
Two…
Darkness.
The lights cut out just before they sprung. It was pitch black inside the villa. The glow of the moon shown in through the arched cutouts, casting their silhouettes across the wall. Jack heard Forbes curse. They had once again lost their advantage. Jack barely knew his way around the villa with the lights on, let alone in the darkness. The phantom must have cut the power to the house.
“Chester,” Jack whispered—his voice amplified by the silence. “We lost power. I can’t see a thing inside. I need your eyes in here.”
“Roger that,” Chester returned. “I’m coming in the west window.”
A moment later, the faint flutter of the hummingbird sounded through the corridor. A small shadow appeared in the window and rushed past them with a whir.
“Hey!” Forbes said swatting at the hummingbird. “What is that thing?”
“It’s our way out of here,” Jack returned.
“Okay,” Chester said. “I’m gonna get you out. Head to the left.”
“Follow me,” Jack commanded Forbes and began to crawl forward.
The men trudged through the darkness with their guns steadied out in front of them. Chester delivered directions, which Jack relayed to Forbes in a whisper. “Down this hallway and to the left,” he said calmly. They crossed the main hallway and entered a small corridor that led past a series of bedrooms. Up ahead, Jack could see the small, green LED light on the base of the hummingbird. The lights helped him keep track of it in the darkness.
“By the way,” Chester said, “the scans are 95% complete. Almost ready.”
“Good,” Jack said quietly.
The acrid scent of mustard gas entered Jack’s nostrils and he choked back a near coughing fit.
“Gas,” Jack mouthed to Forbes. “Keep your mouth covered.”
Jack knew that the only way out was down the center stairs or through the kitchen. They seemed to be working their way back across the villa to the east exit. As they rounded the dining room, the kitchen came into view. Jack’s duffle bag was on the floor in the center of the room. The tablet was inside it.
The scans.
Chester would be sending over the scans at any second. He needed the tablet. He got ready. Just as he was about to run to it, a shadow passed across the floor.
Someone was outside the door.
Jack steadied his gun and aimed at the figure. It was fast. He lost it behind the bushes. Jack cursed under his breath and looked over at Forbes, who was already moving to the doorway. Forbes returned his attention and motioned with a flick of his finger that he was heading outside. Before Jack could protest, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
Exploding glass—everywhere.
The window next to Forbes shattered inward and the dark figure pounced on top of him like a wild animal. A gunshot rang out and Forbes’ gun fell to the floor, clanging against the table. Jack couldn’t see the gun but he heard it hit the tile floor. In a matter of seconds, the men were a whirlwind of arms and legs thrashing around the room. The shadow moved nimbly, like a ninja. Jack aimed his gun but couldn’t get a clean shot. He couldn’t see Forbes. He couldn’t see a damn thing.
A split second later, Forbes yelled out as he was slammed violently into the dining room table. The men separated for a moment and then they were back at it—a blur of sharp blows. Someone went down hard. Then a figure quickly got to his feet and drew a dagger. The phantom. The blade grabbed just enough moonlight to show a glare, giving away his position.
Jack fired. The bullet landed in a muffled thump… something soft, but he wasn’t exactly sure what. The tile floor shook as a body hit the ground. Silence crept over the house. Jack remained holding the gun pointed in the darkness, not wanting to move and hoping to God that he had hit the right target.
“Ahhhgh…”
A pained moan came from the corner of the room. It was Forbes. He was alive. Jack felt a rush of relief. “You alright?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Forbes said wincing. “I’m fine.”
Jack turned and walked over to the assassin lying on the ground. With his gun pointed directly at the man’s torso, he kicked the dagger away from the man’s hand. He leaned down next to the lifeless body of the cloaked man, feeling an overwhelmin
g mixture of emotions—relief, vengeance, confusion. This is him…The man who attacked my wife.
Forbes watched on, breathing heavily in the corner, trying to catch his breath.
Jack reached down to pull the hood aside and reveal who the mysterious figure was. His fingers touched the thick fabric. An overwhelming rage began to take over as he slowly lifted the—
“Jack!” Chester shouted. His loud voice in the earpiece caused Jack to reel backward.
“Geez, Chester. What!”
“There are more men approaching.”
More men? Wait a minute… there are more of these guys?
Jack looked around. He felt a surge of panic. “How many?”
“Hard to tell… maybe 2 or 3. Listen, Jack, you don’t have a chance outside. Move to higher ground… the attic. They’re approaching the west gate entrance now. You’ve got about 30 seconds.”
Jack couldn’t resist the urge. He lifted the fabric and saw the man’s face. He quickly studied him—a fairly young man, flat nose and dark eyebrows but Jack didn’t recognize him. It didn’t matter. There were more coming just like him. The time for resolve was over. He had no way of knowing if this man was the assassin he was after. There were more. He had to move. Going upstairs wasn’t Jack’s first choice. It hardly seemed a viable escape route, but they needed to make a decision fast.
“Forbes, upstairs. Now!” Jack commanded.
“Wait,” Forbes snapped. “My gun….”
“It’s too late. They’re here. We’ve gotta go.”
Forbes didn’t object. They ran into the kitchen and bolted up the staircase just as the sound of footsteps entered the hallway below.
“Jack, the scan is in! I’m sending it over now,” Chester yelled.
The duffle bag. The scans… Jack spun around at the top of the stairwell and leapt back down the steps to grab the bag. He came to a halt halfway down as he saw the entryway closed off by a dark figure… only 10 feet away. The hooded assassin had two daggers drawn and positioned to throw. Jack raised the gun and fired two shots at the figure. Like an apparition, the figure ducked aside, sliding clear of the bullets. Jack turned around and bounded up the steps to the top floor. Forbes was already busy dragging a heavy chest across the room to cover the opening. Jack squeezed through and helped position the chest over the opening. It wasn’t ideal, but it assisted in sealing off the upper level to intruders.