THE STOLEN DA VINCI MANUSCRIPTS
Episode 1 & Episode 2
Author: Joshua Elliot James
~~~
Smashwords Edition
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published in the United States by Joshua Elliot James
Published 2014
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CONTENTS
Copyright
About the Author
EPISODE 1: THE STOLEN DA VINCI MANUSCRIPTS & DEATH IN GENEVA
1: The Mysterious Letter
2: Visit To London
3: The Mysterious Man From Rome
4: Late Night Detective Work
5: Back On Track
6: The Tango Competition
7: The Suspects
8: Murder In Geneva
9: Panama And One Purple Bag
10: Back To Rome Meeting The Traitor
11: Retrieving Valuable Manuscripts
EPISODE 2: THE STOLEN DA VINCI MANUSCRIPTS & MURDER IN SPAIN
1: Singapore
2: Calling In Favors
3: The Millionaire
4: Confusion
5: Facing Gavin
6: Being Chased In Rome
7: Murder In Spain
8: Under Arrest
9: Finally Back To London
10: Romance in Rome
Checkout Other Great Books by Joshua Elliot James
Checkout Other Great Books by Joshua Elliot James:
• THE PERFECT KILLING MACHINE, An Archaeological Mystery Thriller
Archaeology Professor Arcadia Jones returns in the latest action packed mystery novel from Joshua Elliot James.
Seven Russians managed to break into the World War Two Museum in Munich. They stole 3 highly secretive items which have been part of a secret collection of Nazi technology and memorabilia. One of them was a power source unlike anybody has ever seen, the Spear of Destiny. Together with the two other stolen devices it would be the perfect killing machine. If it would fall into the wrong hands it could wipe out entire nations at once. It is up to Arcadia and her team to track down the stolen items to save the world. Will she be able to succeed?
• THE RUBY RED EYED BEAST, An Archaeological Mystery
Archaeology Professor Arcadia Jones returns in the latest action packed mystery novella from Joshua Elliot James.
Arcadia Jones has stumbled across a mysterious tablet from Göbekli Tep. When she starts researching the mysterious relict one of her informants get murdered by a brutal attack in front of her eyes. She discovers an ancient cult around the ruby red eyed beast who wants to take over the world. Will she manage to escape the villains and safe the world?
• THE ANCIENT GATE INTO ANOTHER WORLD, An Archaeological Mystery Thriller
Archaeology Professor Arcadia Jones returns in the latest action packed mystery novella from Joshua Elliot James, a sizzling story of love, adventure and rescuing the world from Aliens dominating the Earth.
The Antikythera mechanism which suddenly has come to live is the key that will unlock hidden secrets older than the world itself. Arcadia races against time to recover the artifact against overwhelming odds, and at great personal danger leading her to the ancient Greek island of Antikythera. There she discovers ancient unknown ruins, hidden deep within the recesses of an undiscovered cave. A mysterious figure steals the valuable artifact from her, leaving a trail of secrets behind. Arcadia discovers the deathly plot and together with her new found Love tries to stop those crazy and dangerous plans.
About the Author:
• Follow Joshua Elliot James on Twitter
• Become a fan of Joshua Elliot James on Facebook
• Find out more at www.joshuaelliotjames.com
Episode 1
THE STOLEN DA VINCI MANUSCRIPTS & DEATH IN GENEVA
Chapter 1: The Mysterious Letter
The envelope contains a small corner of paper, apparently torn from a manuscript, and a note that reads ‘If you want more, come to 60-12 Piazza de Castagno 1, Rome, Italy, 81053.’ There is no mention of a date or time. I flip the envelope and scan for clues- it is addressed specifically to me ‘Ms. Arcadia Jones’, Curator, Metropolitan Museum, New York, NY. 11201; there is nothing else but the postmark of Roma.
I’m optimistic, because the sender expects me to date the sample and become excited enough to pursue the lead, so I head to schedule a test with my assistant Sebastian Sabourin.
“Three days.” He tells me.
“Can you work it in earlier?” I beg, “I have a feeling it’s important.”
He scans his work schedule. “I guess I can bump ‘Harrison’ – he was called away for two weeks. Okay, I’ll have it tomorrow – say around noon.”
I hand him the corner of paper and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Sebastian, you’re wonderful!”
The Accelerator Mass Spectrometer carbon dating device performs impeccably and tells us that the scrap of parchment is dated circa 1510 plus or minus.
Okay – let’s get to work.
I’ll base my search engine on Italy and include a span of five years either side: I’m offered several starting points – The Great Flood of Rome, the Great Fire at the Rialto of Venice, the Medici restored to power, Florence was captured by the Spanish, Agrippa returned to Northern Italy… none of these stimulate my interest. Anyway they’re pretty well documented. No, there’s something missing…
Missing…
Now I get interested. What’s ‘missing’ from that period? Was that what somebody found? The search engine is not co-operative on finding ‘missing’ parameters, so I lean back in my chair, close my eyes and allow my imagination to run free. I’m in Italy, there’s the Tower of Pisa – doesn’t seem to be leaning to me at the moment… paintings I’ve only dreamed of seeing are there before my eyes, the canals of Venice – I’m in a gondola heading to the Sistine Chapel, I look up and see the yet unfinished work of da Vinci – I sit bolt upright, but don’t open my eyes. Wild tales told by my parents flit through my mind – da Vinci… something’s ringing a bell…
&nbs
p; Back to the search engine; I type in da Vinci… blah, blah – all the stuff I remember from studies at Harvard, but wait… what’s this? There’s a link to a different site. I open it and it leads me to the ‘ten top mysteries of all time’. There, staring me in the face at ‘number ten’ is a report of the disappearance of 85% of da Vinci’s books containing ideas for inventions, with sketches. On his death these books were bequeathed to his friend and pupil, the painter Francesco Melzi, but they were stolen on his death in 1570 when his possessions were ransacked and many of them stolen. As a painter, Melzi worked so closely with and for Leonardo that some works which were originally attributed to Leonardo are today ascribed to Melzi
When things seem too good to believe, they usually are and there was one time when I thought the same of the ‘Rosetta Stone’ – but I digress. Back to the present; obviously I have to pursue this, so I’ll get Professor Hannibal to sub for me at Harvard and take a leave of absence from the museum for two weeks – that will give time to see my parents in London. If anybody can shed light on this, it will be them – after all they taught ‘Indiana Jones’ all he knows.
Chapter 2: Visit To London
I so miss the speed of the retired turbojet-powered supersonic passenger airliner Concorde, when traveling to London on one took no longer than a regular flight to Florida it seemed, but we eventually touch down at Heathrow and I whisk through ‘customs’ with all the special benefits of a ‘first class’ passenger.
A forty minute cab ride and I’m hugging my parents in their luxury ‘flat’ - as they call an apartment in jolly old Britain, on the banks of the Thames. I can see HMS Belfast, now a permanently moored tourist attraction near the London Bridge, from their panoramic window.
“So bring us up to date with this mystery letter.” My father urges.
I show it to him and he produces an ever ready magnifying glass from his waistcoat pocket. After several minutes of study he hands it to my mother without a word. She scrutinizes back and front, but pays particular attention to the torn edge before returning it with a nod.
“Vellum undoubtedly, probably from around 1500.” He announces with authority.
“Stored particularly well.” My mother adds. “If not, this sample would be brittle or mold stained; just the right amount of humidity.”
“Why not parchment?” I ask.
My father hands the glass to me. “See the faint hair mark? This is most likely the back of the sheet. Parchment had a different process which typically removed hairs – this is from calf skin – not lamb.”
“What about the envelope?”
“It’s just an envelope – nothing special, although the address is intriguing.”
“Why?”
“Rome. Home of a subversive art movement founded by a former pupil of da Vinci – Bartolomeo Suardi, if I recall correctly.
“You guys are amazing.” I compliment.
“Guys? What happened to your vocabulary, Arcadia? My mother complains.
“America.”
“When are you leaving for Rome?” Father asks.
“Day after tomorrow.”
“Good – let’s invite Gavin Galbraith for dinner tomorrow then.”
“Gavin – he’s in town?”
“Yes, he called last night.”
“That would be nice.”
Gavin was the hottest man I ever knew and our relationship was perfect until he spoiled it by asking me to marry him. He was the one responsible for sparking my passion for red high heel shoes - and the Argentine tango, the most sensuous dance in the world. The two fit together so perfectly.
The moment I see him, old emotions flood back. His gorgeous black hair is a little longer than before and I imagine how great it would look slicked-back under dance floor floodlights. His hazel eyes show obvious pleasure in seeing me and his strong arms engulf me greedily.
“Arcadia, you look radiant!” He compliments and takes a step back to admire me from head to foot. “Ah - red shoes.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me, you know that. Your father tells me you’re off on another quest tomorrow.”
“Yes, another adventure.”
“Where?”
“Italy.”
“Italy… so romantic.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Do you know what’s happening in Rome next week?” He asks with a boyish grin.
I haven’t heard of anything in the news or media. “No.”
“The European Tango Championships.”
My pulse quickens. “No! - Where?”
“The ‘La Cabala’ club.”
“Oh I must go!”
“Let me take you.” Gavin suggests out of the blue.
“No, you can’t, you mustn’t, how can you? Can you?” The words leave my mouth without control.
“Yes - I can. I have no assignments pending.”
My arms grab around his neck and he swings me around. “I can’t believe it!”
We ate ‘Italian’ tonight, just to get in the mood.
My parents are thrilled that Gavin will accompany me, more for hopes of rekindled feelings than as a protector I think, they always liked him.
I wish the handmade pair of shoes I ordered from the Craddock Terry shoe manufacturers at Lynchburg in Virginia had arrived in time, but oh well, I’ll just have to make do.
Chapter 3: The Mysterious Man From Rome
The flight to Rome takes no time, in part because Gavin is there to amuse me. Being back with him is comfortable, like putting on an old pair of slippers.
“So what have you done since we were last together?” He asks during the taxi ride to our hotel.
“Well, let’s see… I achieved ‘black belt’ level in karate, wrote an advanced computer archaeology program and completed the Spanish language course. I think that’s it.”
“As well as teaching at Harvard and ‘curating’ the museum – how on earth do you find the time?”
“You can always find time if you love what you do”. I answer.
We arrive at the Hotel Eden Rome and check in, just before dark.
“Adjoining rooms?” He asks.
“Certainly – with the connecting door lock on my side.” I agree.
“Fair enough.”
The rooms are spacious and decorated toward the Renaissance period. Four poster beds draped with gold and green sateen dominate each and I notice Gavin’s eyes light appreciably but refrain from commenting. The view from the windows is breathtaking across the seven historic hills of Rome, which cradle the Forum, the Coliseum, the Vatican and the Trevi Fountain.
“Let’s freshen up and find that address, then have dinner.” He suggests.
“No, let’s just have dinner.” I counter.
“But I thought…”
I know what you thought, but this is my show. “I don’t think it wise to investigate a strange neighbourhood at night.”
“You’re right; Okay, dinner then.”
I usher Gavin to his room to change clothes and make sure he hears the lock engage behind him.
We decide to have dinner at the famous rooftop restaurant, La Terrazza dell' Eden The Italian cuisine is marvelous, the wine list a connoisseur's dream and the panorama view over Rome is spectacular. I feel like a tourist but have to remind myself that I am here to do my detective work. Five other couples are enjoying the food and wine, and become captive diners when lightning and thunder erupts unexpectedly around us. Fabric globe lanterns, strung around the open terrace, swing wildly but settle to a modest sway when the wind subsides. A small band briefly silenced by the storm, strike up ‘Volare’ from a meager shelter and awake my urge.
“Arcadia, it’s raining!”
“I must dance.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I know – come.” I reach out my hand but he casts it aside with a grunt.
I shed my shoes and walk to the small dance floor to the obvious joy of the band,
which starts to play with renewed vigor. I spin and trace steps in the wet mosaic floor with abandon, lost to everything but the music and the dance. My auburn hair sprays fans of water pearls when I pirouette, and the sound of rumbling thunder serves as a drumbeat to the musicians.
I feel a hand grab my wrist. “We must go – your dress…”
I look down and see that my white dress has become quite transparent.
“Gavin – I have underwear…”
“But everyone can see.” He argues with a sweeping gesture of his arm.
“Gavin – you’re jealous!”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
I succumb, but not before the music stops.
Back at my room, we have a nightcap and I make sure his is substantial enough to induce slumber once he retires to his bed, but I am aware of several attempts to open the communicating door while I change into black slacks and top.
Chapter 4: Late Night Detective Work
The rain has ceased now and late night revelers travel the streets in search of the next party. I have to ask directions a couple of times, but reach my destination without mishap.
Here it is, 60-12 Piazza de Castagno - a quaint corner home on a treed quadrangle. Four quarry tiled pathways lead to a central fountain where children, who should be in bed by now, shriek and splash in the pool, but that’s okay with me, for it takes attention away from my presence.
The Stolen Da Vinci Manuscripts Page 1