Moving Target

by Christina Diaz Gonzalez

  “Something wrong, Simone?” Asher asked.

  “Huh? Oh, no, nothing’s wrong.” She pointed up ahead to the warehouses riddled with graffiti that bordered the four or five different train tracks. “I was just noticing that we’re almost there.”

  “Yeah, I kinda said that ten seconds ago.”

  Simone glared at him. “Well, excuse me if I don’t hang on your every word. Didn’t realize I had to pay such close attention to you.” She shifted her body so that half her back was to Asher and she could keep looking out the window.

  “Her stomach is messed up,” I explained, watching Asher’s startled expression.

  He shook his head and muttered, “That’s not all that’s messed up.”

  Once in Rome, it was only a short ride on the metro to the Circo Massimo stop. As we came out of the underground station, I noticed how the day had taken on a golden haze. There wasn’t much time before nightfall, and my plan of sneaking in with a group of tourists might hit a snag if it was too late in the day and the compound was closed. We walked quickly along the tree-lined gravel footpath that separated us from the speeding cars on the left and the ancient ruins of the Roman racetrack on the right. My heart fluttered every time a motorcyclist zoomed past us, but for the time being it appeared that we had managed to throw our two assassins off our scent.

  “Go through there. It’s a shortcut.” Asher pointed to a bike path that went through the middle of the park on the opposite side of the street. “Plus, we won’t be so visible.”

  Darting between cars, we crossed and made our way through the park onto Via di Santa Sabina. The quiet street was flanked on the right side by a large brick wall and the left alternated between parking lots, narrow side streets, or the back side of buildings. I had read that the compound was at the very top of Aventine Hill, one of Rome’s seven hills, and I could feel the slope of the street getting stronger.

  “Is that it?” Simone was looking through a wrought-iron fence that closed off a small park and church. About a hundred yards away, past a few benches and a scattering of trees, I could see Rome’s skyline. Red clay rooftops and different hues of peach-colored buildings stood out against the cloudy sky.

  “No. The compound is farther down … at the very end of the street.” Asher adjusted the backpack’s strap on his shoulder. “Over there.” He pointed to where the street dead-ended at a small courtyard. People were lined up in front of a pair of massive doors: the entrance to the Priorato di Malta.

  I let out a huge sigh of relief. We’d made it in time. Now we needed to blend in with the other tourists.

  I quietly walked around the courtyard, watching each person take their turn looking through the “secret” keyhole. I’d hoped to find a group with reservations to see the inside of the compound and sneak in with them, but it didn’t seem like any of these people were going inside. I tilted my head up to look at the huge perimeter wall, which made the compound more of a fortress. My backup plan had been to climb over the wall, but it was at least twenty feet tall.

  As the last of the tourists left the area and headed back down the street, the three of us immediately went over to the door. On the upper corner of the gate, I spotted a small security camera. Someone was watching us.

  “So what now?” Asher asked, bending down to put his eye against the keyhole.

  I stayed silent for a couple of moments. Both of my plans had fallen apart.

  Asher straightened up and took a step away from the door. “I don’t see anyone in there. Either of you have any ideas?”

  “Let me look.” Simone peered through the keyhole.

  “We could knock,” I suggested.

  “Knock?” Simone turned her head to look at me. “Just knock?”

  “Yeah.” I was forming a new plan. “We knock to get their attention, then show them the box through the camera. It’s our bait. They’ll either think it’s a delivery or they’ll know exactly what the box is. Either way, someone will come to the door and when they do then—”

  “Then Asher can rush them!” Simone stood up with a twinkle in her eye.

  “I’m not an attack dog that you sic on people.” Asher leaned against the door. “But it could work. Although I suggest we give them a chance to let us in before forcing ourselves inside.” He pulled the box from his backpack, keeping his left hand in his pocket. “Make sure you don’t let them see your ring, Cassie.”

  I had already carefully twisted the ring around so all that could be seen was the plain silver band. With my right hand I slammed the metal door knocker several times, creating loud echoing bangs in the stillness of the courtyard. The three of us waited. Asher lifted the box toward the camera in case anyone was zooming in on us.

  Nothing happened.

  The door remained closed, and we were still no closer to getting inside.

  Simone looked through the keyhole again, then tried to fit her pinkie into the opening. “If only we had something that could pick this lock.”

  “A key,” I muttered. Signora Pescatori had told us about a key. What had she said? I tried to think of the exact words.

  The key is in the eye of the beholder.

  Maybe it had something to do with my eye. The way I saw things.

  “Scoot over,” I told Simone. “Let me look through it.”

  The keyhole was deep, not allowing me to see much except for what was directly ahead, but what I could see was exactly as described in the guidebooks. A line of cypress trees inside the compound formed a tunnel to the edge of the hill, and at the other end, in the distance, was the Vatican dome. It did create a very pretty picture.

  A burst of light flashed in my eye, and I jumped back.

  “What is it?” Asher asked.

  I blinked, still seeing the blue-white line. “A light. Like someone taking a picture.”

  Simone checked the keyhole again. “Nothing happens when I look through it.”

  I nodded. “I thought I might see something different because I’m the one with the birthmark. Signora Pescatori said the key was in the eye of the beholder.” I glanced up at the camera again. “I didn’t think it would try to blind me.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” Simone mumbled.

  “What?” Asher asked.

  “Just a line from a book,” Simone said. “It feels like we’re falling through a rabbit hole.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if—”

  Asher shut up as the door creaked open. A large man wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and skinny black tie stood there looking at the three of us. He was bigger than a bodybuilder and had less of a neck. “Tu.” He pointed to me. “Seguimi. Gli altri aspettano qui.”

  He wanted me to follow him inside. “And my friends?” I asked.

  His cold stare sent a shiver up my spine. “In English, then,” he said with a very thick accent. “Only you. The grand consigliere wishes to see you. The others wait here.”

  “No.” Asher stepped in front of me. “She doesn’t go in alone.” It didn’t seem to matter to Asher that this man dwarfed him in height and width.

  The man cracked his knuckles. He may have been wearing a suit, but his business was not sitting behind a desk. He was some type of guard. To stress this fact, he slowly pulled his jacket to the side, revealing a gun holster.

  “Then she can stay out here with you,” he answered, placing a hand on the door as if to close it.

  “Wait.” Simone eased Asher back and spoke directly to the guard. “I know your boss doesn’t want Cassie to go away,” she said with a certain authority in her voice. “If she leaves, it’ll be your responsibility, and that may get you into some serious trouble.” She paused for emphasis. “And no one wants any trouble, right?” Simone had his attention. She was good at this type of thing. “So why don’t you go inside and explain that we are a package deal. We all come in, or we all go home. We’ll give you a few minutes to get us an answer.”

  The guard’s jaw tensed up, and his eyes narrowed.
“Fine. Stay here.”

  He closed the door with a large thud.

  “That was awesome,” I whispered to Simone, giving her a little nudge. “You totally got him to back down.”

  Simone smiled. I could see she was proud of herself.

  “Have to admit,” Asher said reluctantly, “you did sound pretty convincing. Guess you’ve picked up a few things from your mother.”

  “That was all me … not my mother,” she clarified. “I wasn’t pretending to be her.”

  Asher shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, not wanting to get distracted by their bickering. “You called his bluff. You did great.” I peered through the keyhole again to see if I could see the guard and was quickly blinded once again by the flash. “Ugh.” I rubbed my eye. “Stupid light.”

  “Again?” Simone shook her head and looked through it herself. “I see him. He’s walking back.”

  I felt a twinge of excitement in my chest. This was it. “Okay, if they let us in we have to remember to act like dumb kids on a class assignment so we can check out the place.”

  “I don’t think that idea is going to work anymore, Cassie.” Asher returned the box to his backpack and slung the bag over his shoulder. “Based on what just happened, they know that we’re not ordinary kids.” He tightened his grip on the bag’s strap. “We just have to keep our eyes open and not say much. See what they know.”

  “No.” Simone shook her head. “What we need to do is find the spear and get out of here. Cassie isn’t safe until we have it.”

  “Well, yeah.” Asher rolled his eyes. “That’s what I meant.”

  “Guys!” I motioned toward the door … it was being opened.

  “You may all come in,” the guard stated. “Follow me.” He held the door as we stepped into the compound.

  Inside, the area was lush with trees and plants. There were perfectly clipped bushes, rose gardens, and tall cypress trees forming canopied trails in different directions. But there were no paintings or statues with spears or daggers through the heart like the box’s poem mentioned. At least none that I could see.

  Simone leaned toward me. “Where are we going?” she whispered.

  “The consigliere’s office,” the guard announced, clearly having overheard Simone’s question. “She requested to speak with you directly.”

  “What is a consigliere?” I asked.

  “She is an advisor.” The guard sounded like he was annoyed with us. “A director of sorts.”

  We entered a small two-story building. The stone floor of the foyer was inlaid with red marble in the shape of a large Maltese Cross. The guard walked around the design, careful not to step on it, and the three of us followed suit. He stopped in front of a wooden door with a frosted-glass window and knocked.

  “Bring them in, Massimo,” a woman’s voice called out.

  The guard opened the door, and we walked in. “The grand consigliere,” he said, motioning with his hand to a woman sitting behind an antique wooden desk. “Dame Elisabeth.”

  She was an older woman with silver hair pulled back in a twist, wearing a dark-blue dress and a pink scarf around her neck. She was attractive, but there was a no-nonsense look to her. There was also something vaguely familiar.

  “Welcome,” she said, standing up to greet us. “Please have a seat. We have some things to discuss.” She turned her attention to the guard. “That will be all, Massimo. Thank you.”

  Massimo did a curt little bow and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  The three of us stood by the door, unsure what to do next. We needed to explore the area, and an administrator’s office was not where we needed to start the search.

  “Let’s begin with your names,” Dame Elisabeth said, “and what brings you here.”

  Simone stepped forward and extended her right hand. “I’m Simone Bimington, and this is Cassie and Asher.”

  Both Asher and I gave a slight nod.

  “Pleasure to meet all of you.” Dame Elisabeth shook Simone’s hand, but she didn’t take her eyes off me. “Cassie, you said?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “Well, actually it’s Cassandra, but everyone calls me Cassie.”

  “Hmm, Cassandra.” She let my name roll off her tongue. It felt as if she were weighing the word, determining its worth. “A good, strong name,” she said, still staring at me with a gaze so intense that it felt like she was memorizing my face.

  “Um, excuse me, but do you think we might be able to get a tour of the grounds?” Asher asked.

  Dame Elisabeth peeled her eyes away from me. “Yes, of course.” She arched a single eyebrow and smiled. “Although I believe you are here for more than just a tour.”

  None of us said anything. We all maintained blank expressions as if we didn’t know what she meant.

  “My dears, the keyhole confirmed it. We already know Cassandra passed the test.”

  “Test?” I thought about the flash of light I’d seen while looking through the keyhole.

  “Yes, a retinal scanner is hidden in the door. People look through there thinking they are only seeing a pretty picture … never realizing that we are looking at them, too.” She was staring at me intently again, like I was a bug under a microscope. “Your eye pattern, it’s like your birthmark, it identifies you. It tells us you are one of the marked ones. The Knights will now protect you and make sure that the Hastati don’t make you a target.”

  I bristled at the mention of the Hastati. It was enough for Dame Elisabeth to suspect something was wrong.

  “Oh,” she said. “Have they already targeted you? Do they know of you?”

  Simone shook her head. “I think you might have us confused with someone else because—”

  Dame Elisabeth raised her hand and cut Simone off. “You’ve learned not to speak of this nor trust others with the information … that’s good.” She stood up. “But you’re not here by coincidence. I’ve been hoping that one day Cassandra would show up and that I’d be able to give her refuge.” She studied our reactions. “That is why you’re here, correct? Seeking refuge?”

  Asher, Simone, and I exchanged a quick glance.

  “Yes,” we all said in unison.

  “Then that is what I will offer you. A safe haven until we can find something more permanent.” She walked around the desk and approached Asher. “May I see what you were holding outside?”

  Asher took off his backpack, pulled out the box, and handed it to her.

  She gazed at it, flipped it over, and ran her fingers along the leaf carvings. “After all these years,” Dame Elisabeth muttered. “Where did you find it?” she asked.

  “It was given to us,” I said. “By a friend.”

  “I see.” Dame Elisabeth clutched the box to her chest, closed her eyes for a moment, and smiled. “This brings back some very special memories.”

  “Is it yours?” Asher asked.

  “No, it was my daughter’s.” She sighed, and then looked at me. “I’m sorry to keep staring at you, Cassandra,” Dame Elisabeth said, her eyes now gentle and soft. “You just look so much like her.”

  I gave her a slight smile, but all I was thinking was that if the box was her daughter’s, then maybe her daughter was the one who hid the spear. We were getting closer to finding it.

  “Are you sure the box was hers?” Simone questioned. “It could just be similar.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” she said, leaning against the desk and setting the box down. “She spent an entire summer here making it herself. I can still see her now, sitting right there working on it.” She pointed out the window to a small, perfectly manicured garden with a bench that overlooked the city. In the last few minutes it had grown dark, but a few lampposts lit the area. “She’d be there for hours; it was her favorite spot.”

  “Is your daughter still here?” Simone asked.

  “No.” Dame Elisabeth had a pained expression on her face. “She passed away almost thirteen years ago.”
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br />   “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, disappointed that another link to the spear had disappeared.

  Dame Elisabeth scrunched her eyebrows together and gave me a strange look. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you know? Certainly you knew.”

  Now it was my turn to be confused.

  “Um, no.” I shook my head. “How would I know about your daughter?”

  “Oh, my.” Dame Elisabeth straightened up, cocked her head to the side, and stared at me. “You don’t know,” she said softly. “I thought that was why you’d come. Because you already knew.”

  “Knew what?” I asked.

  Dame Elisabeth took a few steps and reached for my hand, holding it between both of hers. “Cassandra, my daughter was …” She paused for a moment, trying to come up with the right words. “My daughter was your mother. I’m your grandmother.”

  I pulled my hand away and took a few steps back. It felt like I’d been punched squarely in the gut. She was my grandmother? No. That was too crazy to be true. This was a setup. Some type of mind game. This woman wasn’t my grandmother. My mother was an orphan. She grew up in foster homes in Cleveland. I didn’t have any family except Dad and whoever he had left back in Cuba.

  I felt dizzy.

  Dame Elisabeth guided me to a chair, her face full of concern. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to shock you.”

  “Well, what did you expect?” Simone exclaimed, crouching down in front of me. “You can’t just announce to someone that you’re their grandmother and think they aren’t going to be shocked.” She waved her hand in front of my face. “Cassie, you okay?”

  I nodded, but my head was reeling. This was not the kind of information I thought I’d find in the compound. Growing up, my only link to my mother, besides my father, had been through pictures, and most of those had been lost in one of our many moves. Yet, I still remembered some of my favorites. A close-up of my father and her on their wedding day; a picture of her being very pregnant, eating some ice cream; and, my very favorite, the one where she was smiling, holding me as a newborn, and Papi had his arm around both of us.