by Taylor Buck
Forbes tumbled backwards, exhausted and drained. Blood oozed in a steady trail from the gaping tear in his shoulder. He had tried to keep the assassin from entering the tunnel, but failed. Realizing all he could do at this point was try to warn Jack, he screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Jaaaack! He’s inside! Jaaaaack! Jaaa—”
But his cries were stopped short. With one fluid motion, the assassin buried two throwing knives deep into Forbes’ chest, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him tumbling backwards. He collapsed on the wood floor with a hollow groan.
Below, the assassin descended the steps and entered the tunnel.
CHAPTER 48
FLORENCE, THE TUNNELS
SEPTEMBER 10
JACK PEERED DOWN THE tunnel and squinted to see in the darkness. At the far end, he could see the lantern swaying gently from the hook, almost like a breeze was moving it back and forth. Suddenly, the light was blocked out. Then it flickered again. This process repeated until the flame was barely visible. Jack soon realized what was happening… something was standing between him and the lantern.
“Forbes?” he whispered.
No response. But the lantern quickly came back into full view. Forbes had stepped into the shadows. What is he doing? Is he hurt? It took a moment to register. It wasn’t Forbes who had entered the tunnels.
Jack felt icy panic paralyze his nerves. The assassin had gotten past Forbes and found the entrance to the tunnels. Jack had no weapon of any kind. No way to defend himself…
Suddenly, he heard footsteps—echoing through the tunnel. The assassin was barreling toward him. Jack turned and sprinted the other direction. He bounded down the steps and clambered through the passageway. Lurching to the door, he slammed the key inside the lock and cranked to the left.
SSHIINK.
The door released just as the sounds grew closer above him. The assassin was at the steps. Jack pressed hard on the heavy door until it finally opened enough for him to slide inside. He pulled himself through the small opening and then slammed the door shut firmly behind him.
Darkness.
He stood there with his back against the door listening for footsteps. Everything was dead quiet. For the moment, he felt safe—secure inside the room. No sign of the assailant outside. Through all of the commotion, Jack nearly forgot where he was… Inside the secret room. Cosimo’s private treasure vault. A wave of excitement flooded his senses as he lifted the lamp higher to get a better view of the room. The light from the lamp crept up the sides of the walls and over a large table in the center of the room. Old crates were stacked high along the walls and what looked like a wooden hutch lined the length of the back wall. It wasn’t a very large room. From end to end it was probably twenty feet wide and roughly the same distance across. There was nothing special or elaborate about the interior either. No gilded statues or wooden treasure chests overflowing with gold pieces. The room was rather ordinary. The decor—plain. However, the table in the center of the room quickly drew Jack’s interest. He walked around and held the light above the table.
The table was dark and flat. He thought it to be merely a reading table—a place to study manuscripts; but as he looked closer, he realized it wasn’t actually a table, and the surface wasn’t made of wood. It appeared to be some sort of viewing encasement with a thick layer of brown dust coating the surface. He reached out his hand and brushed the dust away in an arching motion. The sediment cleared revealing a shiny layer of browned glass beneath. Jack took his cuff and carefully wiped down the entire surface. After the dust was removed, the contents inside were visible. He stared, transfixed for a moment before a smile crept across his lips. He couldn’t help it. It was as he had suspected. The treasure wasn’t gold or an idol. It wasn’t gems, diamonds or any other precious stone.
The treasure… was knowledge.
CHAPTER 49
LUCERNE, KLINIK ST. ANNA
SEPTEMBER 10
KATHLEEN HEARD A RINGING noise—high frequency… possibly static or electronic oscillating. It held strong for a moment, until it was accompanied by another frequency—this one lower in pitch. The two humming noises seemed to be clashing, fighting for dominance as to which could be shriller. It was excruciatingly painful to endure. The sound was difficult to comprehend. Almost like an early dial-up modem that couldn’t quite establish a connection… as if binary digits were desperately extending outward to make a connection. It was close now. A link clearly wanted to be made.
Lucidity. It is right here.
Only a thin veil separated the two channels now. Naturally, she wanted to join these two separate vessels of communication and therefore unify a relationship of sorts—like programming a merge sequence, but it was so inexplicably hard to make that happen. Kathleen fought through it. Tooth and nail. As she always did. It was exhausting and tedious, but she could feel herself gaining momentum. She wasn’t giving up. The two sounds were nearly united in a single pitch—a beautiful resonant chord. The ringing panned from left to right, ear to ear until the two met in the middle in one climactic, dissonant clash of warbled frequencies, stretched pitches and unintelligible triads.
She breathed in deeply, feeling her body rise upward. She was weightless. Then she realized she was underwater… floating slowly to the surface. It was all very dreamlike. The aqua blue blanket above shimmered magically in the sunlight. She knew she had to be dreaming. It was the only way to explain how she could be breathing so effortlessly underwater. The sensation was familiar and comforting, as if she had experienced this same dream many times before. It was ever so calming—being weightless. Floating. She was close to surfacing now…so close. She almost didn’t want to emerge at all. It was so peaceful down below—
“Kathleen?”
“Yes?” she whispered quietly.
“Mrs. Cullen?”
Somewhere… a voice was calling out to her. Someone else underwater.
“Can…hear… misses Cullen?”
“I said… What?” she snapped. Kathleen was getting annoyed. Who was this? And what did they want? Why are they interrupting—?
Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled from behind. Something strong was pulling her out of the water. She was moving fast through the clear, warmness. A rippling wake in her trail. Almost to the surface now.
3…2…1
“Kathleen, can you hear me?” a female voice called out.
Kathleen blinked. She realized she was staring at a woman directly in the face, but everything was blurry. Too close. She closed her eyes again, trying to focus them. She squinted to see. Slowly, the young lady’s face became clearer and more visible. She was smiling pleasantly at Kathleen. The woman had brown curly hair that looked to be pulled back in a ponytail. Her shirt… or dress, or whatever it was, was white. She was quite young and very petite. German or maybe French… definitely European.
Who is this?
Kathleen smiled back. At least she tried to. She thought she was smiling. By the reaction the young girl gave her, it appeared Kathleen had smiled in return. Why are we smiling at each other again?
“Mrs. Cullen.” This time it was a man’s voice. A short man with kind eyes approached her left side and remained there. He seemed to be looking her over studiously. He was smiling, too. Why is everyone so damn happy?
“Go ahead and blink your eyes if you can hear me,” the man said.
Kathleen could hear him perfectly fine. She wasn’t sure why he had asked her to blink. It was an odd request. Okay, she thought. I’ll blink.
She blinked.
“Very good!” the man said. “Do you think you could wiggle your toes for me too?”
Okay, this is getting weird. Everyone here seemed to be overly jovial and smiling. They seem to be very interested in what she was doing. But the kind man was being very polite in his requests. She felt that she needed to oblige. She gave her toes a wiggle.
“Great, Mrs. Cullen!” the man said enthusiastically. “You already have contro
l of motor movement. That is quite pleasant.” The man was writing something down on a tablet device. “Now Mrs. Cullen, do you know where you are?”
Sure. I know exactly where I am… Wait… No. “Wwwhere emm I?” she asked, slurring her words together.
The man and woman exchanged a surprised look and then directed their attention back to her. “You’re at the Klinik St. Anna—a hospital in Lucerne, Switzerland. You were in an accident up in the mountains. You lost consciousness. Mrs. Cullen, you slipped into a coma and you’ve been resting here for the past 5 days.”
A coma…5 days… an accident in the mountains?
“Where’s my husband? Where’s Jack?” she asked, now speaking calmly, just the stiffness of a very dry mouth muffled her words.
The doctor looked over at the empty chair beside her bed then donned a sort of uncomfortable smile. He opened his mouth to reply.
Suddenly, the door swung open and a large man entered the room. He was massive in stature; but his face appeared gentle, as if he was self-conscious entering the room. The nurse responded like an angry Chihuahua, quickly barking at him to leave.
“I told you… You can’t be in here!” She got up to run over to the doorway but the man put his hands up in the air as if he was surrendering himself.
“Si, Si. I know... I need to speak with Mrs. Cullen now though.”
The kind man beside Kathleen, who was clearly the doctor, moved away from her and began to intervene. “I understand, but she needs some time to clear her head. She’s emerging from a deep state. You’re going to have to wait in the hallway until she’s ready to receive visitors.” The doctor moved toward the door whispering something to the man under his breath.
The large man didn’t seem to like the response from the doctor. He broke eye contact and looked desperately over at Kathleen. He seemed afraid, or determined or maybe angry. It was hard to tell.
“I just want to help you Mrs. Cullen. Do you remember what happened?”
Kathleen looked around the room with a frown. The doctor then placed his hand on the large man’s forearm. He looked like a toddler reaching up to a giant’s hand, but the larger man seemed to relent and begin withdrawing from the doorway. He looked one more time to Kathleen and blurted quickly, “You were working in Florence. You found a letter. This letter brought you to Switzerland where you were found in the Alps. Do you remember what happened, Mrs. Cullen?”
“That’s enough!” the doctor yelled. The large man seemed to have done the impossible; he angered the kind doctor and forced him to speak sternly. With eyes still locked on Kathleen, the giant slowly slipped into the hallway. He was nearly out the door when—
“Wait!” Kathleen said. She was closing her eyes again. The look on her face was serene and focused. After a few seconds she slowly opened her eyes again. Her gaze drifted from the window to the machines beside her bed, then stopped on the man in the doorway. She was alert and relaxed, surprisingly composed. After a few deep breaths, she spoke.
“I remember…”
CHAPTER 50
FLORENCE, COSIMO’S CHAMBER
SEPTEMBER 10
JACK PEERED DOWN AT the glass and noticed the reflection of an object above him. He looked up. An old lamp reflector hung from the ceiling with the side panels bowed outward. It was an odd contraption. Jack had never seen anything like it. The panels seemed to operate as an elaborate device to spread light around the space, like a lantern room in a lighthouse. A giant brass dish hung above it that looked like a Chinese gong. Jack lifted his oil lamp into the ancient contraption and instantly the room was illuminated in a golden radiance—as if he had flipped on an electrical switch. It was astonishing how well the device worked to brighten the room and reveal the contents.
The light bathed the table in the center of the room like a spotlight waiting to introduce the main character. Jack placed his hand upon the latch. He gently turned the lever until it clicked open, then he slowly swung open the door. As soon as it reached halfway, the entire door released from the crumbling hinges and dashed apart on the ground. Jack cursed and stared at the pieces disconcertedly. He was rushing… not being cautious enough. The last thing he wanted to do was destroy the contents inside. He knew the value and history that the documents inside held—it will change history. He wished Kathleen were here to experience it with him.
He looked inside the casing and surveyed the contents. In the middle was a book, held together by a primitive binding. The cover was made of thick animal hide. The symbols branded into the cover were roughly positioned, but the title was still legible. The script appeared to be Hebrew.
שְׁלֹמֹה
As Jack took a moment to translate it, a lump developed in his throat. The hairs on his arms stood on end. A presence of awe overtook him.
Solomon.
Jack ran his fingers across the rough surface of the book and gently pulled back the cover. What he found inside was not what he expected. Each page was filled from top to bottom with elaborate characters, symbols and text. As he studied the pages, he could see they had been restored. Although old, the pages were sturdy and looked to have been meticulously coated in a layer of wax so as to conceal the contents beneath. Someone, most likely Ficino, had taken the time to preserve each page, carefully applying a wax coat in order to keep the contents sealed and conserved. The pages, all of which were an early form of papyrus, were written in some ancient language… one that he had never seen before. Jack was able to pull out certain words and symbols, but the contents were written in a strangely configured pattern. It was a mix of Hebrew, Aramaic and cuneiform… however, the cuneiform symbols were a variety Jack didn’t recognize. Basically, it equated to jumbled nonsense.
He flipped through the first few pages and came across linear diagrams and illustrations… he was able to make out buildings, moats and canals—blueprints. There were similar schematics further inside the book. As he got deeper into the pages he had to step away. His hands were shaking and he didn’t want to tear the pages. He realized what it was he was actually holding…
It couldn’t be…
A sketchbook… that looked to have been written by Solomon himself.
To the right of the ancient book was a leather-bound copy in much better condition, autographed in the bottom right corner by Marsilius Ficinus, the apparent gatekeeper of this sacred text, or in this case—the copyist. He had painstakingly translated the ancient book to a tee. Even the cover had been translated to its Greek pronunciation…
Shelomoh.
Unbelievable. Solomon. Known to be the wisest king ever to live. As far as polymaths rank in history, Solomon undoubtedly held the title belt. An original Humanist—architect, artist, naturalist, poet and king… he was the Renaissance Man of the ancient world. Jack was thunderstruck—completely blown away. The realization of what he had found overtook him with a shuddering surge of excitement. What he held in his hands was certainly the most valuable archeological find to date. Possibly ever. Certainly since the Dead Sea Scrolls.
I am essentially looking at the pages of King Solomon’s diary.
Jack began flipping through Ficino’s translated copy. The pages revealed a series of sundries, line-lists and instructionals—the first of which were writings that seemed to be laws or jurisdictional guidelines referencing specific court accounts. Jack had studied Solomon’s writings before and was familiar enough to know what his work included. He was the author of the famous Proverbs, a book of wise phrases that aptly exhibited the degree of wisdom he held. His other contributions were comprised into the Christian Bible including Songs of Solomon and Ecclesiastes. There were other books that Jack also knew of—apocryphal manuscripts that weren’t included in the Bible. He had read those as well, but this… this was something different altogether. It was like a reflection of his mind—his insights and observations written and sketched onto journal pages. A personal account of his vast wisdom.
As he referred to Ficino’s translated copy, the symbols an
d words seemed to lift off the pages. Jack saw some drafting blueprints along with detailed instructions on how to construct basic barriers and foundations. A sketch showed how timber was used in constructing forms. A diagram then explained how to build casemate walls, showing a plan consisting of double encircled dividers joined periodically through perpendicular walls to form storage basins or living quarters. It showed a system of support beams, or buttresses, tied against walls to provide a base system for constructing the foundation of a massive structure in typical Solomonic fashion. Jack read on, overtaken with intrigue. He imagined these very plans as the guiding manual in Solomon’s construction of the first temple on Mt. Moriah. It would make sense, and it wasn’t exactly far-fetched to think so. The early Anthrópos were supposedly guardians of the Bible’s Old Testament Scriptures—The Pentateuch, The Prophets, and The Writings, the 3 divisions of the Old Testament. During Solomon’s reign, these manuscripts were stored in the temple treasury and looked after by the priests, most of whom were Anthrópos themselves.
Jack flipped a few more pages into Ficino’s translation and stopped on an earmarked section. Judging by the marker, it appeared to be the lengthiest section in the book. It was comprehensive and magnificently detailed—the topic was aptly fitting. Jack could imagine why Cosimo would have such taken an interest in it, for this particular section covered the management of money and finances. Jack recalled Solomon’s lavish expenditures. He was not afraid of utilizing his vast fortune to fund his eccentric enterprises, but he contained the wisdom to know that he needed a defined system to manage such a massive fortune. Subsequently, it is said by many that Solomon actually developed the earliest banking system ever recorded. Some even hail him as the father of the global banking system. As Jack read over the notes he marveled at how detailed and meticulous the instructions were.