by Taylor Buck
“Was she not supposed to tell me?” Mari asked worriedly.
“No, it’s probably fine,” Jack said. “Did she say anything about any of the letters she found?”
“Not a thing. She just said they were old letters, from the 1400s. She didn’t say what any of them were about.” Mari looked overwhelmed. “Jack, what happened here? Did Kat do something wrong?”
“No,” Jack said assuredly. “Kat did nothing wrong. I’m just trying to find any evidence leading to how she ended up in a coma. I was thinking she might have told you something.” He could see Mari was nervous. She kept glancing over at the tent, trying to get a peek at the men inside. “Listen,” Jack said. “I know this is a shock, but the less you know the better. Don’t talk about this to anybody. I don’t want to get you involved in this until I figured out what happened. Okay?”
“Jack, you know me. I can’t let this just sit unresolved...”
“Trust me,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I wasn’t grasping at straws. But you need to promise me you won’t speak to anybody about this.”
“Fine,” she said dismissively. “I don’t like it, but if that’s what you want…” She shook her head.
The response surprised Jack. It wasn’t what he expected to hear from Mari. He expected more pushback.
“Thanks, Mari. If anything comes up…or if you remember anything more from your conversation, give me a call. Kat’s in an ICU in Switzerland. I’m going to be back and forth until I find something out. You can reach me on my cell.”
“Okay. Be careful, Jack.”
“Always,” he said before exiting the car. Jack watched her drive around the corner before he entered the tent. Chester was waiting up front to greet him.
“What was all that about?”
“Just a friend of Kat’s. I wanted to see if she knew anything. They had lunch last week before the accident.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Then you just jeopardized your wife’s case for nothing.”
“Excuse me?” Jack said frowning and suddenly feeling defensive.
“Listen, I know you want answers, but it’s critical that this stays between us right now. We talked about this. You don’t want this story going public. Kathleen technically stole private property by leaving Florence with that letter and until we find out what happened, she…”
“Wait a minute,” Jack said cutting Chester off. “Kathleen didn’t steal anything. She was hired to excavate the vault and extract the contents. The management of the letters was being handled under her supervision. Besides, TerraTEK has insured jurisdiction at every dig site. She had every right to confiscate the findings for her own research purposes.”
“Our jurisdiction is only at the physical site,” Chester said firming his tone. “And even if you want to remove something for research purposes, there is a protocol you need to follow. She could take it to Shanghai if she wanted to, but it would have required getting permission first. This is only done by obtaining written documentation.”
Jack could see Forlino and Valente chatting over by the computers. They seemed to be discussing something rather heatedly as well. Forlino looked up and made eye contact with Jack. He began making his way over.
“Don’t you see, Jack?” Chester continued. “Until we determine what actually happened, Kathleen could be accused of larceny, or worse yet… murd—”
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” announced Forlino. “But if we’re all finished here I will arrange for dinner to be made for us all at the villa. Francesco, my prized chef, has offered to serve his specialty… veal scaloppini.”
“Thanks,” Jack replied. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to stick around. I appreciate the offer but there’s still a lot I’d like to see around the dig site. Why don’t you guys head back and I’ll take a taxi in an hour or so.”
Forlino appeared slightly wounded by Jack’s refusal, as if he had declined the invitation to some momentous celebration. It was Valente who chimed in and saved it from becoming overly awkward. “Absolutely, Mr. Cullen. There is no rush. Take your time to explore here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you wish. Massimo will leave you with the keys and we will meet you back at the villa at your leisure.”
“And I’ll make sure to have some veal and butternut squash set aside for you when you return,” offered Forlino half-heartedly.
“Very kind of you,” Jack replied.
“Mr. Allen, will you be joining us?” asked Forlino.
“I’m going to stay here with Jack,” Chester answered. “I’ve got some calibrations and adjustments I need to make to the software. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Si, Si, capisco,” replied Valente. “Take your time gentlemen. See you back at the villa. Ciao.”
“Ciao,” called back Jack, already moving further inside the tent. “See you soon.”
Forlino and Valente drove away. Jack and Chester lingered around to search for clues. After spending a good thirty minutes covering the entire site, he ultimately came across nothing of value. Almost none of Kat’s belongings were there. Her workstation had an old monitor, a dirty coffee cup and a picture of the family inside a dusty frame. Jack, Kat, Val and Anna standing in front of a sign that read, Paco’s Tacos. He found it odd that she had left it there. But if anything, it verified the fact that she had left in a hurry. She wouldn’t have left behind something with such sentimental value. The photo was from their vacation in Costa Rica a year and a half ago. They all looked tan, happy and carefree. Kat had a white flower in her hair. Her auburn hair was wet from the ocean, making it appear much darker than it really was. She was stunningly beautiful. The ache inside returned.
Chester and Jack finished up the dig site and hailed a taxi back to the villa. Once they arrived, Forlino and Valente were nowhere to be seen. The lobby, kitchen and study were all empty. The housemaid, who didn’t speak a word of English, seemed to be the only inhabitant of the estate.
“Scuse, Signora. Dove…eh, Signore Forlino?” Jack asked.
The maid looked at him nervously, as if she weren’t certain whether to respond or not. “Mi dispiace Signore, non sono affari miei.” She motioned for Chester and Jack to follow her then escorted them up the staircase to their respective rooms. For Jack it was a spare room on the third floor modernly decorated with expensive furniture and an arched walkway to a private terrace. He dropped his duffle bag on the bed and stepped out onto the terrace. A warm breeze met him at the threshold and the scent of rosemary and sage filled his senses, reminding him where he was. Still restless, he leaned against the banister and watched the city lights grow brighter as the historic streets of Florence made way for the late-night club scene. He messaged his daughters and checked with Margaret who assured him that everything was okay back home. Using the personalized stationary by the bedside table, he left a note informing Forlino and Valente that he and Chester would be leaving early in the morning to go back to Lucerne. At the beginning of the week, and depending on Kat’s progression, he promised he would return and help with the dig.
Jack lay in bed trying to calm the storm raging between his temples. The more he dwelt on the situation the more infuriated he grew. He wanted desperately to find out what had happened to Kat. It was the not knowing that made it most vexing. He pictured this phantom in his mind and tried to envision what he looked like. His mind began subconsciously forming the portrait of a faceless, formless figure… a frightening apparition. After a while, exhaustion took over. He got up to draw the curtains, realizing he hadn’t slept more than 8 hours since he got the initial phone call. His head hit the pillow and his eyes had just closed when his phone began rattling around on top of the bedside dresser. He groped around in the dark to find it. The time showed 2:21am. He looked at the caller ID—it was his daughter, Valerie. He answered.
“Val?”
“Hi Dad. Were you sleeping?”
“It’s okay sweetie? Is everything alright?”<
br />
“Fine, Dad. Sorry, I forgot about the time change… I just wanted to tell you that a package came for you today.”
“A package?” Jack wasn’t expecting anything. “From whom?”
“It’s a large envelope, from Florence…” she said sounding puzzled. “Dad… I think it’s from Mom.”
CHAPTER 15
PRESENT DAY
THE FLAME GREW HOTTER as the torch ignition was pressed and held down. It glowed red, then yellow, then a greenish-blue color indicating it had reached its hottest temperature. The man holding the torch waved it slowly back and forth across the small rod of metal held firmly in place with a pair of vice grips. The anticipation of the coming sensation caused a shiver to rush over his body. He watched attentively as the metal burned bright red.
Almost ready, he thought.
He turned his back to the mirror behind him and carefully situated himself so he could see his entire body. The spotlight above him lit up his shoulder and back muscles, displaying the scars in glorious detail. A meticulous pattern spread across his back forming a scaly texture that ran from his trapezius to his tailbone. It was the result of years of habitual discipline—a time-consuming and continual work of art that honored his ancestors and placed him as a superior being among men.
My masterpiece is nearly finished. Sin will surely be pleased.
Ten years of devotion and sacrifice to the illuminated one—Sin…En-zu. The Lord of Wisdom. Perfection was within reach…. Inevitable. Not long now. The painstaking physical transformation into the mythical beast was nearly complete.
He placed the small torch on the table beside him and he nimbly reached his arms back behind him…slowly, until he felt them pull from their sockets. He could now extend his reach freely behind him and touch every part of his back— a technique that had taken years to master correctly.
He positioned the mirror in front of him to reflect the large mirror behind him. Doing so, he was able to guide his hands to the appropriate portion of his back. There remained only a small section that hadn’t been scarified. He steadied his hands until they were perfectly still, then he hovered the scalding hot metal above the skin as he aligned it to his markings. After a deep exhale, he pressed the burning hot metal into his flesh—hearing the skin melt away with a hissing sound. His mind was so deep in concentration he couldn’t feel the pain—another technique that he had borrowed—this one from Buddhist monks.
After the appropriate time had passed he lifted the metal away from his body and snapped his shoulders back into place. He placed the vice grips onto the table and held still… focusing his senses. A rush of endorphins flooded his body like a tidal wave followed by the familiar sensation of bliss that accompanied the procedure. He was totally alive—in a state of nirvana… the pain remained a distant feeling that he compartmentalized and suppressed deep within his psyche.
The flesh immediately blistered and swelled at the area of contact, but the mark now fit like a stroke of paint among the artwork canvassed across his back. He held on to the moment and harnessed it, releasing all bodily tension and mental stress into the sensation.
After a moment, he emerged from his euphoric state and opened his eyes. He studied the design across his back, feeling the power surge through his body. It was a primal, animal-like rush of virility that complemented the scaly hide he had created on himself. It was this modification that had earned him his nickname, known only to a few living souls. The name was a fitting reminder of what he had become… a manifestation of supremacy in the form of the mightiest and most renowned creature of old…
Il Drago.
CHAPTER 16
FLORENCE, LA VILLA SULLA COLLINA
SEPTEMBER 8
JACK STOOD UP FROM the bed. He was instantly awake and lucid.
“A package from your mom?” he rasped, trying to make sense of how that was even possible.
“It says it’s from Dr. Kathleen Cullen. Florence, Italy.”
“Did you open it?
“Not yet… I wanted to tell you first.”
“Good thinking. Go ahead and open it now.”
Jack heard rustling sounds on the other line as Valerie tore open the box and pulled something out. The line went quiet.
“Val?”
“It’s a letter,” she said sounding surprised.
“Can you read it to me?”
More rustling. “Yeah, but it’s wrapped in a weird, see-thru package-thing… Wait a minute… no, I can’t read it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not English, Dad. It’s something else… Latin or Italian or something… and really old.”
Old? Jack thought. Then it hit him. He felt the hair follicles along his arms stand on end. “Is there a wax seal anywhere on it? A red smudge… with a symbol on it?”
“I think so,” Val replied. “It looks like a letter maybe…”
“An M?”
“Actually, yeah.”
Jack couldn’t believe it. The letter... Kathleen had mailed Lorenzo’s letter to him. She must have done it before she left. He was completely shocked. Kathleen sent me a 600-year-old letter via Postal Service. The fact that she had physically mailed the letter to their home address meant she must have been extremely concerned with getting the letter out of Florence.
“Val, listen to me. What you’re holding is extremely old and probably very fragile. You need to be very careful with it.”
“Okay.” She paused. “What do you want me to do with it, Dad?”
“Take it under the kitchen light and take a picture of it with your phone. Try to take the best picture you can, and get the whole letter in frame.”
“Okay, give me a second,” she said.
Valerie put the phone down and followed Jack’s instructions. A moment later she came back. “I did it. I’m messaging it to you now.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Jack studied his phone with anticipation. An instant later, an image popped up. “I got it!” he said excitedly.
“Good!”
Jack pulled up the image on his phone and began scanning the letter up and down. He was astonished at the resolution of the image; the phone had taken a near-perfect scan. Sure enough, it was the letter from Lorenzo Medici to Michelangelo Buonarroti—one polymath to another.
“This is fantastic, Val. Great job. Now place the letter in the bottom drawer of my desk in the study. It will be safe there.”
The letter was written in Old Italian. Jack could partially translate it, but he knew he needed someone fluent in the language to provide a complete and accurate interpretation.
“How’s Anna?” Jack asked.
“She’s good—with Aunt Margaret in the backyard.”
“Are you getting your homework done?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Good. Also, Anna has a soccer game tomorrow. Can you make sure that Aunt Margaret knows about it?”
“Yes. I’ll tell her.”
“How’s Coach Carrie? Did she recover from the food poisoning?”
“I think so. Anna said she coached practice yesterday.”
“Good. Listen Val, I need you to help Aunt Margaret and your sister keep on top of things, okay? I’m counting on you to hold down the fort while I’m out.”
“I know, Dad. We’re okay… really.”
Jack knew that she was only saying it to appease him. There was no way his girls were alright with this. He felt horrible being away from them, but he knew he had to make things right before he could come back.
“I’m so proud of you, Val. You know that?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Ok… I’m going to take a look at this letter a little closer. I’ll call you later. I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Jack hung up. He dressed quickly and grabbed his things, then silently stepped out into the hallway and walked along the corridor of suites. As he rounded the corner to the stairs at the end of the hall, something grabbed his attention. He noticed a sm
all sliver of light shining into the hallway coming from the doorway belonging to the room at the end. Somebody’s bedroom light was on. If Jack’s memory served correct, the light was coming from Forlino’s room. Unusual. Why would he be up at this hour? It was 2:30 am. However, if he was truly up and about, Jack could show him the letter and possibly get him to translate.
Jack quietly crept down the hallway and approached the door. As he neared, he heard voices inside the bedroom… softly talking… a woman’s voice. That’s odd. Jack wasn’t aware of Forlino having a wife… he certainly hadn’t introduced her anyway. He suddenly felt uncomfortable at having ventured into a position he had no interest being in. He began backing up when he heard the woman inside say something that caught his attention—his name.
Cullen.
The dialogue between the man and woman was in Italian so Jack could only make out bits and pieces. Still, he listened in.
“…when Cullen finds out… rest of the letters…” the woman’s voice trailed off. A pause. Then Forlino spoke, “I’m quite aware… plan. There’s nothing… until it’s uncovered.”
Jack distinctly heard his name spoken—they were talking about him. He couldn’t make out the topic of conversation but he was confident it involved him. It naturally piqued his interest and he found himself leaning in closer to the door to hear what they were saying.
“… bring him here? …keep this… ourselves,” the woman said.
The voice was familiar. It took a moment to come to him, but he soon realized who the woman was inside the room.
Gabriela! Massimo’s daughter.
What was she doing in Forlino’s room? And why were they talking about him? Jack stepped closer to the door, stretching his ear to the paneling in order to hear the conversation.
