by Taylor Buck
Forbes leaned against the wall, out of breath. “Who the hell are those guys?” he asked. “And why do they keep coming after us?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. Did you see how they’re dressed? Like medieval assassins. All of them. None of this makes sense.”
Jack checked his magazine. He only had 4 rounds left. “Here,” he said handing it over to Forbes. “This is yours.”
Before Forbes could object, Jack reached up and shattered a glass casing on the wall. He grabbed an old decorative dagger from its mounted position on the wall and held it firmly. “I’ll be fine,” he said.
“Jack!” Chester called over the earpiece.
“What is it?”
“Did you get the scans?”
“Chester, the tablet’s downstairs,” Jack said. “I can’t get to it. Besides I’m a little busy at the—”
“It’s there, Jack,” Chester said, with a sense of awe in his voice. “Under the west garden and… it’s… amazing…”
Amazing. Jack was reminded of Kathleen. She had used the same word to describe the letter she found.
“Okay,” said Jack calmly. “You’re going to have to talk me through it. We can compare the finding with Forbes’ reading here.”
“Wait,” Chester replied with concern. “You’re going to show—Forbes?”
“Don’t ask... just tell me what you see,” Jack said hurriedly. He wasn’t about to argue with Chester about joining efforts with Forbes. “Do you see the tunnels?”
“Yes. It looks like they run all the way out to the east gardens. The entrance is under the east service building.”
“By the main entrance?”
“Right.”
Jack and Forbes exchanged a look of certainty. The tunnels started at the maintenance shed. Jack had seen it on the way in. Used to house the many potted lemon trees that were present all over the estate, lemonaia sheds like these were commonplace. In the winter, the caretaker would utilize this shed to keep the trees warm. The structure was old, but it had clearly been renovated over the years. Jack thought about the first one and how Alberti likely built it as a facade to disguise the entrance to the tunnels. An ingenious conception that had likely fooled curious treasure seekers for hundreds of years. Anyone searching for the treasure from inside the house wouldn’t have been able to find it. It was only accessible from the inconspicuous and unassuming entrance tucked away in the distant corner of the estate.
Brilliant… and very Albertian.
They needed to get outside now. For all Jack knew, the assassins knew his plans and knew where to go. They were clearly after the treasure and that meant disposing of him and Forbes. He had felt a presence, like someone watching him the past few days. They must have tailed him out to the villa. Now they were trying to shut Jack and Forbes off by holding them up inside the villa.
They are probably headed for the treasure right now.
Jack looked around him. They were stuck and he knew he couldn’t stay up in the attic of the villa forever… The plan had changed. As effective as it was to lure Kathleen’s attacker to the site of the treasure, he hadn’t planned for a full-fledged team of ninja assassins. Good plan, Jack. Now what?
Forbes walked over to the furniture stacked in the corner and began rummaging through it. Jack slid the dagger through his belt and looked out the window facing the eastern gardens. His mind was racing. Everything was wrong. It hadn’t turned out the way he planned and now they were at a dead end. It was as if someone knew they were coming and set a trap to get them both inside the villa. Now the trap was sprung. There was no way out. Jack tried to recall when the attack came… as soon as they had confirmed the treasure was there. As if they were bugged… or being watched inside the house. Jack envisioned little cameras placed throughout the villa watching their every move, like some kind of twisted game. The attack had happened instantaneously. On cue, as if someone were listening… once Jack and Forbes had both confirmed the treasure was underground, the assault initiated.
Could Forbes have set this up? It was certainly plausible. He looked over at Forbes. He was busily unraveling something. Unassuming.
Is Forbes playing me?
Jack wouldn’t put it past him. Despite his present efforts at mending the past, Jack knew Forbes had the ability to put on a stellar performance. But that wasn’t it. Something else wasn’t right... Jack couldn’t help shake the feeling that someone was timing this… watching the whole thing unfold like a story… listening to them talk and hearing them discuss the treasu—
It suddenly hit him. Like a stab to the heart… the only other person who had knowledge of the events leading to this point.
Chester.
It had to be. He’s been watching us the whole time. He’s been leading us around in circles in the dark… My god, he’s watching us right now!
“Chester?” Jack said quietly. He could hear Chester typing on the other side.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you right now?”
“I’m flying along the east wing of the villa, trying to get a better view. So far I’ve seen 3 figures… but I just lost one…”
He’s stalling. He’s keeping us up here. He’s trapping us inside to kill us.
Jack looked out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the hummingbird. He needed a way back down. The stairway was blocked. The only way out was through the—
“Here,” Forbes said as he came to the window. “Take this end while I anchor it to a base.” He handed Jack a makeshift rope, fashioned from a series of hanging curtain tassels. It looked to be about 10 feet long and rather expertly crafted.
Jack ducked his head out the window and listened. The sound of the city was far off. The country surroundings felt serene and still—removed from civilization. Only the quiet chirp of crickets was audible from the ivy below. He scanned the terrain below. The south end of the villa faced a back road where a tall stucco rampart met up with the house just 10 feet below and ran the length of the property. The top of the wall was flat and looked to be wide enough to traverse to the eastern shed. He tried to hone in on the sounds outside, listening for any sign of movement. It was so quiet. Too quiet.
Forbes tied off the rope and Jack began lowering it down the south face of the villa.
“I’ll go first,” Jack said.
“Be my guest.”
Jack climbed out the window and turned around to face the house. He gripped the rope firmly and tested his weight against it. The knots cinched together tightly and felt rather resilient. He leaned over the side and walked his feet down the wall as he balanced his weight, reaching one hand in front of the other, repelling down the face of the villa until his feet touched the ivy covered wall. He gathered his footing and leaned against the villa to stay out of sight. Forbes’ handy knot work proved capable. The rope had held up well.
Forbes, noticing Jack’s successful descent, began to crawl out the window. As he worked his way down the wall, Jack checked in with Chester.
“Chester, I need you over on the south wall.”
“On my way now,” he replied over the earpiece.
Within 20 seconds, the hummingbird zoomed around the back of the house and hovered in front of Jack.
“Closer,” Jack said.
The bird fluttered forward. Jack reached out and snatched it out of the air.
“What are you—?”
Jack quickly turned the bird upside down and flicked off the power button. He yanked the earpiece from his ear and pressed the transmit/receive button to the OFF position, then threw it in the bushes. He couldn’t risk the possibility. Chester was the only one that could see his every move. If he were somehow in on it—well…at least he wouldn’t be able to hear him or see his movements now. Besides, Jack knew where the treasure was. Even if he were wrong, he no longer needed Chester’s assistance.
The ivy rustled gently as Forbes touched down on the wall.
“Stay low,” Jack whispered. “Don’t get caught
on the ivy.”
The two men traversed along the ridge of the thick wall toward the east gate, hidden by the shadow of the villa. Once they reached the corner of the house, Jack stopped. One step further and they would be exposed in the moonlight.
“We’ve got to get down from here,” Jack said looking out over the east garden. There was no sign of the phantoms, but the lemonaia was still far away. The vast, open stretch of ground they had to cover in order to get to the tunnel entrance left an unsettling knot in his stomach. He reached over the side and grabbed a handful of ivy. Then he carefully swung his body over the side of the wall and lowered himself to the ground. Forbes followed suit. They ducked in the shadows outside the kitchen and stared wide-eyed into the darkness—looking for any sudden movements.
“Do you see anything?”
“Not a thing,” Forbes whispered back.
There was no one in sight—at least nobody out in the open. Jack could hear a faint engine whine—mechanical—belonging to one of his or Forbes’ GPR bots still scouring the property somewhere in the distance. Adrenaline coursed through Jack’s veins, he could actually feel it pumping through his body with every heartbeat. He felt alert, awake and surreal, almost out-of-body. It was strange… he was scared to death, but very focused. The adrenaline working as a natural stimulant.
He emerged from the shadows and stepped into the garden bed. The soil was soft and damp. The beds would muffle his footsteps, a better option than the gravel pathway below. He scanned the grounds and attempted to calculate the distance from where he stood to the lemonaia. Fifty yards or so. The moon above highlighted the large, twisted Paulowina trees lining the turf median in the center of the garden. Below the Paulowinas, small lemon trees dotted the path and lined the expanse between the house and the main entryway. Jack had the sudden urge to make a run for it, a mad dash to the shed and slide the door shut, locking himself safely inside. It was an entirely irrational impulse, and he knew it. Be calculated, Jack. He suppressed the urge and tried to map out his path in the dark, utilizing moonlit shapes as landmark bearings along the way. He had to be clever, deliberate and even-headed if he wanted to get to the shed alive.
These things… assassins, or whatever they were… were silent and fast. Phantoms, as Porto had called them.
Jack heard a twig snap from across the courtyard. He froze mid-stride. Both he and Forbes slowly sank into the surrounding foliage to blend in. He tried to keep still, like a statue. Ironically, the garden was riddled with stone statues.
There. Across the median a figure was moving in and out of the bushes. Jack could see the hooded head and masked eyes.
It was a phantom.
Forbes slowly raised his gun and aimed but Jack, seeing the barrel raise, gently pushed it down. He looked at Forbes and pressed his finger to his lips. A gun blast would give away their position and invite more.
Jack eyed the shed.
The structure was closer than he thought… probably only 40 yards away. “I’m going to draw him out,” Jack whispered leaning in to Forbes, “There’s no other way through. If we wait here… we’re dead. You got me?”
Forbes gripped the pistol tightly with both hands and nodded. “Yeah,” he said eyeing the shadowy figure. “I got you.”
Jack turned around and readied himself. He touched the dagger next to his hip and ran his fingers over the cold handle. It was his only defense at the moment… he wished now he had kept the gun. He gathered his footing and tried to envision the path before him. He couldn’t see a damn thing in the dark.
One…
Two…
Jack burst out of the bushes and hit his stride on the gravel path. The first thing he noticed was how noisy the small rocks were under his feet—loud. CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH. In the distance, the shed bounced around up and down like a ship tossed around at sea. The wind rushed past his ears and Jack tried his best to stay focused on the moonlit roof ahead of him. He felt exposed and vulnerable, but he kept running. He ran as fast as he could through the darkness.
CHAPTER 43
FLORENCE, MEDICI VILLA AT FIESOLE
SEPTEMBER 10
JACK SPRINTED BENEATH THE Paulowinas trees, darting between branches and hurdling over hedges. About 30 yards away, he noticed the dark figure emerge from the shadows. The phantom was running straight at Jack holding something shiny in its hands… a rapier—long and wide, horrifying. Jack ran faster, but it was hopeless… he knew he couldn’t get past him. The phantom quickly closed off the pathway and turned to face him. Jack tried to slow his movements to give Forbes a better shot…
Where was Forbes?
The phantom threw his cloak aside and drew another sword. Both hands now gripped a long blade—gleaming and shimmering white in the moonlight. The figure was terrifying, like something from a nightmare—the grim reaper coming to claim what was his.
Jack staggered backward. It took a moment for him to realize that he was in the line of fire. Even if Forbes was going to take a shot, Jack was in the way. Quickly, he sidestepped and entered the grass median in the center of the garden. Doing so opened up the shot.
Now, Forbes... shoot!
The figure closed in. Jack reached down and gripped the handle of his dagger. He slowly withdrew it from his belt and held it out in front of him. The blade on his dagger was about a foot in length—miniscule compared to the towering rapier. The phantom continued forward, blending into the dark night. It seemed to hover toward him weightlessly.
This is actually happening, thought Jack. I’m going to swordfight with a deadly assassin… and I don’t even know how to use a sword.
He thought about throwing the dagger but quickly changed his mind. With his luck he’d miss. Instead, he gritted his teeth and prepared to engage. His psyche was firing signals through his brain, trying to control fight or flight responses. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to run.
Run Jack.
The phantom was only ten feet away now.
Run Jack. You don’t have a chance.
Jack took a deep breath and stood his ground. Why hadn’t Forbes fired? That son-of-a-bitch had lied to him. Now Jack was going to die. Forbes had never planned to back him up. He was a part of all of this too.
The phantom swung the blades—in unison—like a whirlwind. What seemed like a blur of razor-sharp metal was now barreling toward Jack like a cyclone. He knew his dagger was worthless, but he held it up like a shield anyway. It was all he had.
The blades sliced through the air while Jack dug his feet into the gravel for leverage. The attack came high. Jack instinctively dropped low to avoid impact. No sooner had the dagger been swatted clear of Jack’s hands when a loud noise rang out—a cracking sound. The phantom abruptly lurched sideways into a flailing, thrashing whirlwind hitting the ground hard, like a helicopter crashing and splitting apart. Both rapiers in the figure’s hands were flung clear.
The loud gun blast took a moment to dissipate into the night, the echoes slowly absorbing into the hillside. Jack opened his eyes and saw Forbes holding his gun out in front of him. Realizing he had nearly stopped breathing entirely, Jack inhaled a fresh gulp of oxygen into his lungs before he collapsed to the ground. He couldn’t believe it—he was alive. In shock, but alive. Once he gathered himself, anger welled up inside of him.
“Morgan! Dammit!” Jack roared. “What took you so long? He nearly killed me.”
Forbes remained still, with his gun out, studying the phantom before them. “I had it covered,” he replied calmly. “And I think you mean… she.”
The reply confused Jack. He swung around to face Forbes. “What?” Then as he looked down at the body, Jack realized what Forbes had meant. The assassin’s hood was drawn back revealing a smooth, pale face—lit up by the moon. Strands of glossy black hair fell softly over dark eyes and strong cheekbones. Plump, rosy lips had a spot of blood gently pooling along the crease. The face of the assassin was not what Jack was expecting.
The assassin… was a young wom
an.
She was stunningly beautiful—almost angelic in the moonlight. In fact, the woman before him looked vaguely familiar. Jack kneeled closer to get a better look. As he did so, he realized who it was.
No… It couldn’t be.
Jack couldn’t believe it. There, lying dead at his feet, was the young woman he had been introduced to only a few days before…
Gabriela.
The assassin was Massimo Forlino’s daughter.
“Do you know her?” Forbes asked, piecing it together from Jack’s astonished reaction.
“Yes,” Jack said hoarsely. “She’s… she’s Forlino’s daughter.”
“Sheez…” Forbes said. “She’s just a girl.”
Jack’s head was spinning. What was Gabriela doing here?
“Jack…” Forbes said looking around uneasily.
Jack was transfixed on Gabriela’s lifeless face. He felt sick to his stomach. She was so young. Why would she risk her life for this? … Whatever this was. It didn’t make sense. Was she actually Massimo’s daughter? She couldn’t be… She was something else… but what? Jack’s head was spinning. Forlino must be involved in this too… but did that mean Valente was?
Gabriela… an assassin? Il Drago. The name entered into Jack’s mind like a faint whisper. It seemed to ricochet through his consciousness like a stray bullet bouncing around. Who was Il Drago?
“Jack, we gotta go,” Forbes said. “I’ve got one shot left and we’re exposed right here.”
Forbes was right. They needed to move. But Jack was finding it difficult to do anything at all. Everything was crashing down… there was no single assassin… there was a whole team of assassins. All of the work Jack had put in to track down the killer seemed irrelevant. He was merely scratching the surface of something much larger, much more complex than he had ever imagined. All he had wanted to do was find the man who tried to kill his—