Pascal and Mayumi were thrilled at the discovery. It was only 7 a.m. when they arrived back to their friends’ attic and they had the feeling that the day was ending, but Napoli was only waking up to life and they felt the urgency to move on.
Sitting on a stool in the designer kitchen drinking their second coffee, Pascal talked to Augusto.
“My friend, it is better that we do not stay longer with you even though we love your place. You have been more than helpful, but there is no need to bring you more trouble.”
“We understand how our intervention and action is dangerous for you. You are already the target of the Italian mafia and there’s no need to add the Thai /Burmese mafia,” Pascal joked. “Anyway, we now have what we wanted. The only other service we need from you, if you can, is to do a translation from Latin.”
Pascal had some memories of Latin from school, but didn’t remember much. Augusto was educated in a religious institute and knew Latin well and read aloud.
Pascal was amazed. Like most people, he liked to watch espionage movies and enjoyed mysteries.
“True comes from the book,
Judged in Rome,
Erected in stone.
Door to the secret.”
“Well done Watson! It is obvious,” Pascal joked. “We have the key to the answer… but what is it? We had better go to Rome to understand this mess.”
They left their new friends, yet eager to come back in more enjoyable circumstances. On the train back to Rome Pascal and Mayumi recapped their findings, trying to understand the puzzle.
“In the convent,” said Mayumi, “we both understood there was a kind of box hidden in the leather pouch and the marks showed that it had been there for a long time. We also know that only one man, an Ettore Ferrari, officially had access to it.
“So, either somebody stole it—but that seems impossible since nobody, even the priests, knew there was an essential manuscript there. Or—and this seems more probable—the sculptor was too happy to restore the image of the so-called ‘heretic’ to create a statue in his honour. As a Mason, he would have known the importance of that hidden document,” mused Pascal.
“Where do you think this box is now?” asked Mayumi.
“Maybe you should read the Da Vinci Code!” said Pascal impatiently. And they both laughed heartily.
“Pascal can you be serious for a while?” begged Mayumi.
He postured a solemn attitude and took from his visitor’s guide a picture of the statue of Bruno Giordano. It was erected in the middle of the Piazza dei Fiori near the Piazza Navona, at the same place that the infamous prison Torre della Nona had been built in the past.
“Look at the picture,” he said with exaggerated gestures, pretending he was an orator. “Does that ring a bell, madam?”
He repeated: “In livro Veritas: the truth is with the book… Pietrae erectum: erected in stone. The book of the statue must be made in stone... Roma judicio: condemned in Rome.”
Mayumi glared at him.
Pascal started jumping and dancing like a monkey.
“Can’t you see? We found it! We found it: the Book!”
He couldn’t avoid a joke.
“It is so clear that a Jesuit couldn’t find it!”
“The book!” echoed Mayumi, who missed the joke. “I see now! The statue has a book in his hands!”
“Our mantra is there, hidden by the clever artist as a symbol of freedom and the courage of his hero who fought for free expression against the powerful church. This is an ideal situation for the Mason’s free thinkers!”
“But how can we retrieve that Mantra?”
“Simple! Let’s go back to Rome. Quick!”
As soon as the train arrived at the Rome Central station, Pascal and Mayumi immediately took a taxi to the Piazza dei Fiori. They were impatient to discover Ettore Ferrari’s piece of art and check for the book.
First they were surprised by the huge size of the statue. Very tall, it sat on a massive pedestal made of stone block.
Not only did they have to operate in a public place, they also had to get the mantra from that stone structure—and the book was five meters from the ground! How could they recover something inside it and not destroy the statue? It was much more difficult than they had presumed, and maybe even impossible.
But Pascal was determined. He had the intuition that there was a kind of will from the sculptor for it to be accessed, and since Ettore was a Freemason, he had to do it the Freemason’s way.
Pascal suddenly exclaimed, “Freemasons consider themselves as builders, not only of cathedrals, but also of a philosophical order, so they used symbols, and he had to do the same.”
It was at that moment that Pascal touched the statue and realized it wasn’t made of stone—it was a bronze cast.
So why had the sculptor had written: fato della pietra?
Focusing on the exact meaning, Pascal translated the sentence word by word.
CARVED (AND NOT ERECTED) FROM THE STONE. Suddenly, the real implication appeared.
Ettore wasn’t talking about the statue, but the pedestal made of stone. The perspective totally changed.
“This sculptor was a genius,” he said to Mayumi. “You see! On each side of this 5 x 3 meter stone block the artist has carved scenes of Bruno Giordano’s trial on these bronze plates.”
“See this one! You can see the cardinal facing the detainee, and his rogue attitude… And here, on the table, can you notice a book? This must be the one we are looking for. It’s clever, isn’t it?”
As a sculptor, Ettore Ferrari worked with tools to carve stone and plaster. He would have always used a square and a compass, and these tools were also his ‘symbols’ that will help us unlock the cache.
“Can you see now?” asked Pascal.
They stared at each other. Mayumi was amazed! Pascal took her arm gently moving her away from the statue. “Let’s come back tomorrow. We have to do some shopping!”
“Pascal,” she replied, “I must admit you are the most incredible man I have ever met. Maybe you were right; our vibrations are resonating.”
For the first time, she tried a joke.
“Even I still don’t feel I am Imae, the woman of your dreams.” She pressed her body against his gently, in a loving gesture.
Pascal embraced her. “Now you are.”
“Let’s concentrate back to our mission and I will explain my plan,” he said. “We have to do some homework, but in the meantime let’s celebrate. I remember a place where they have the best champagne, the Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin.
They started laughing like children and ran, hand in hand, to the place where they could find their favorite champagne. It felt almost like a pilgrimage already.
…
It was raining heavily in Rome that early morning and the weather was unusually chilly. It wasn’t a nice day for tourism, even for a romance under an umbrella. The shops and restaurants were closed.
The piazza was deserted and a strange silence enveloped it. The huge statue of Bruno Giordano in the middle of the piazza was almost hidden by a thick mist.
A white van was parked near the statue and two workers wearing white and green overalls installed a plastic enclosure around the stone pedestal. They erected collapsible boards with the City Emblem and DHRM ‘Temporary Maintenance Work’ painted on them.
Once the enclosure was set, a tall, athletic man wearing a worker’s helmet and glasses that masked his face snuck out from the van and swiftly entered with tools in his hand.
Back from the site, a young and beautiful oriental woman dressed in a large raincoat with her head nestled into a woven bonnet look in the direction of the statue. She looked like an early tourist waiting for the coffee shops to open.
She was the first to spot the three young men who had arrived on scooters who stopped their engines and started to light cigarettes, obviously watching the statue as well. Why were young guys interested in historical vestiges at 6 a.m.?
The young woman knew immediately
that trouble was coming. She took her phone and wrote a text message: ‘Hurry!’
They had to rush before the young guys noticed that something unusual was happening. She went to her car and started the engine.
On the site, hidden from curious eyes, the athletic worker stared at the carved scene set on one side of the stone pedestal. He quickly got out his compass and square and started to insert their sharp extremities into almost invisible holes that appeared on the small, carved book.
His excitement seemed to vanish as the reality of what was expected of him sunk in. What if he was totally wrong?
He stopped for a few seconds to breathe deeply. He heard some strange noises:The technique seemed to be working and he recovered his self-confidence. He glanced at the silhouette at the far corner of the piazza. He then repeated the motion, and only after few apprehensive trials pushing hard with his tools, did he heard a metallic click.
As if in a dream, a slit appeared on the right side of the bronze carving. It was very slim, but was enough to insert the square. Squealing, the bronze plate turned open and the man could smell the stench of fetid air from the opening. Behind the plate, sitting on a kind of metal tablet, was a somber object that looked like a greasy box.
The worker looked inside with his electric lamp. That’s all there was. He quickly grabbed the box, careful not to have it slide or break, and put it into his backpack. A surprising thing happened next. The artist had set an auto-closing system that was activated when the weight on the tablet was lifted.
As soon as the box was taken, a metal string automatically pulled up the tablet support that closed the bronze panel with a similar click. The bronze panel was now definitively sealed.
How smart!
The worker’s phone beeped. He cast a glance and replied: ‘Come!’
He kept hidden behind the plastic until a small Fiat stopped. He snuck below the plastic sheet and found his way to the car door. The small engine accelerated with a roar, tires squealed and the car rushed in the opposite direction of the scooters. By the time the young guys reacted, the small car was already gone from their view and on its way to the airport. At the same moment, the small Buddha, the MI6 alarm, started to vibrate.
“Ah!” exclaimed Pascal, “they don’t waste their time! How can we trust them?”
At the airport, the two characters ran to the British Airways counter. They were very satisfied, in fact elated by their performance.
“Congratulations.” Pascal said to Mayumi. “That was very good timing. How could you arrange that fake maintenance work at such a short notice?”
“You have never been married,” she said teasingly. “You still don’t realize what women can do!”
She explained later that she had the time to arrange everything overnight with the help of her contacts in the DHRM, the Department of Historical Roman Monuments. One of them, an architect, was in charge of the historical monuments preservation. He was very professional and quick. He was also very fond of Mayumi! But she didn’t elaborate on that.
In the meantime Pascal could connect with Mr. Been from MI6 by using their encoded procedure. He was expecting them in London.
SEASON 2: FATE
“A man’s character is his fate.”
Heraclitus
The Quantum Mantra Page 15
