by Taylor Buck
Jack raised his eyebrows. “How are we—”
“Leave it to me,” he said cutting him short. “Like I said… I’ve got a budget for this and I intend to use it. We’re out to catch a fox and I say we need a faster hound.”
“Well,” said Jack. “I’m not going to argue with you if that’s how you feel.”
“Good. I’m not in the mood anyway.”
Jack grinned. “Chester. I believe this trip has brought out the cynic in you. Are you always this contemptuous?”
“Shut up.”
Jack fell back against his seat laughing.
“Driver, please take us to the airport,” requested Chester. He dialed a number and spoke on the phone with his rep. In only a matter of minutes, he had arranged their transportation to St. Moritz, Switzerland.
CHAPTER 18
FLORENCE
1467
LORENZO OPENED THE SHUTTERS and stepped out onto the balcony. The warm morning light was beginning to blanket the city streets below. The chatter of merchants setting up their shoppes and the squeak of tradecart wheels began to rise through the thoroughfares of the Mercato Vecchio. It was a pleasant sound, for it was the sound of commerce… the sign of prosperity.
Directly below, a man appeared from across the courtyard. He held a bundle of large wrapped parcels, partially obscuring his face from view. Lorenzo might not have known who it was if it weren’t for the distinguishable red cap bobbing up and down from behind the bundle. This telling attribute along with the brisk pace in which the man traveled revealed enough to allow Lorenzo to issue a salutation. “Good morning, Marcilio,” he shouted. “I see you’ve come bearing gifts.”
Marcilio Ficino looked up. He shielded his face from the sunlight. “Books,” he replied. “Is there any gift greater?”
“More books?” said Lorenzo. “You realize you can learn more about life by experiencing it? You can’t learn everything from a book.”
Ficino quickly stopped beneath the balcony and stared at Lorenzo disdainfully. “Your grandfather appointed me to teach you daily, Lorenzo. I’ve done so for ten years now. I don’t suppose you intend to contest his instruction… do you?”
Lorenzo flashed a sharp grin and nodded his head, displaying no intent to debate his wise mentor’s words.
“I thought as much. Now come down here and let me in,” commanded Ficino.
Lorenzo descended the staircase passing one of his manservants in the hall. He rushed forward nervously. “Sorry sir, I was just about to—”
“No need,” replied Lorenzo with a slight wave. “I’ll let him in.”
Lorenzo opened the main door and greeted Ficino at the entrance. “Here, let me help you,” he said reaching for the parcel in Ficino’s arms.
“Careful!” Ficino cried. His eyes widened. “That one is very important.”
Lorenzo returned a look of confusion and loosened his tight grasp. “What have you brought me?” he laughed. “News from Pythia?”
Ficino pushed through the side door and entered the study. “Not exactly,” he said glancing behind his shoulder nervously. “Your grandfather would have traded the family’s fortune to have this, though. It’s a shame I didn’t happen across it until now.”
Ficino pushed aside the scrolls and manuscripts littering a large table in the study. He delicately took the parcel from Lorenzo’s hands and placed it in the center. Ficino seemed to fidget for a moment, not quite knowing how to approach the mysterious wrapped object before him. “Now… you shall see,” Ficino said in a whispered tone, almost secretively. Lorenzo picked up right away that it contained something of extreme value. The intrigue drew him in… could this be the treasure Padre spoke of? Ficino removed the outer wrapping and laid the object carefully on the table. The warm light from the window cast down upon them.
“A map?” Lorenzo asked eyeing the old scroll inquisitively.
“A diagram,” answered Ficino.
“Of what?”
“The planets.”
“Well, I see that. But it’s wrong,” Lorenzo said furrowing his brow. “You have them out of order.”
“No,” Marsilio said evenly. “The positioning… is quite intentional.”
Lorenzo stepped back from the table. He gave Marsilio a look of concerned inquisition, as if he was hoping his teacher would dismiss his claim in jest…but he isn’t doing so. He was serious. If what Marsilio was claiming in the diagram to be truth, then it was not only a dangerous scheme—it was by many accounts blasphemy. Rewriting constellations, let alone changing the arrangement of the planets, was considered witchcraft among the clergy. Marsilio had not only changed the order of the planets, he had displaced the most central element. Replacing the earth for the sun? Nonsense. It was a fact that earth was the center—proven in the planetary system created by Ptolemy and more importantly… the Church. It was written in Scripture. Having anything other than earth at the center was refuting everything the Church had taught for hundreds of years.
“What influence made you conjure such a claim?” Lorenzo retorted, burying the scroll beneath a stack of papers. He glanced around as if expecting someone to break down the door and reproach them as seers. “Be careful, Marsilio. Not only is this blasphemous, but having it in my house is grounds alone for a schism between our family and the church. I will not have it here. You must take it away at once.”
“Lorenzo, my Lord,” Ficino said soothingly. He laid a gentle hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder to ease him. “Try to open your mind. It is only human to challenge what is accepted. Your grandfather certainly did. Imagine if Cosimo had not erected the basilica. What if he had believed the naysayers who taunted him by claiming it couldn’t be done… that the physics were impossible. The dome would have forever remained an open carcass to the world… an embarrassing reminder of our limitations and shortcomings as mortals. Cosimo opened his mind to what the possibilities could be, therefore challenging what the people thought they knew to be possible.”
Lorenzo’s eyes remained fixed on the table. Marsilio always referred to Padre whenever trying to get his way. It was his way of leveraging sentiment to guide his directive. Malicious, but effective. Deep down Lorenzo wanted nothing more than to continue in the footsteps of Padre. His grandfather had entrusted Marsilio with everything and given him his blessing to guide the future of the academy. Lorenzo knew he must heed his grandfather’s decision, even if Marsilio’s methods had gotten him into trouble (which they had on more then one occasion). As controversial as they were, his lessons had opened up a new world to Lorenzo… one that had been appointed to him alone. He knew the knowledge he had been given was selective. He knew Marsilio had told only him about certain things… things like this. It made him reflect upon the gratitude he should be showing not only to his teacher, but to the man who had appointed him. Padre believed in me.
Lorenzo looked up slowly. “Where did you get this?”
“It is a thesis from the pages of Aristarchus.”
“Aristarchus?”
“The Greek astronomer.”
“I’m aware. Surely he explains himself somehow. What is his rationalization for ordering as such?”
Ficino looked back blankly, then cast his eyes away. “I don’t know yet. At least not exactly.”
“What?” Lorenzo said staring at his teacher with confusion. “You don’t know?”
“It’s fairly complicated, actually. I haven’t finished decoding his script.”
Decoding his script? Lorenzo had no idea what that meant. “From Greek?”
Ficino looked uneasy. He quickly changed focus. “I saw you with Lucrezia yesterday.”
Lorenzo looked taken back. “You did?” he said looking surprised. “Where?”
“At the marketplace,” Marsilio replied, retrieving the map from the stack of papers and fitting it inside his coat. “You were buying her violets.”
The fragrant blossom suddenly filled Lorenzo’s senses, bringing with it images of Lucrezia’s angelic face. He ha
d enjoyed a picnic outside of town with Lucrezia the day prior. She had insisted they venture through the Palazzo Vecchio to pick up flowers for a laurel she was making. Knowing they would be surely seen by the public and henceforth become the topic of town gossip, Lorenzo had protested, but inevitably Lucrezia got her way. All it took was one look at him with her emerald green eyes. He would give the world to her, should she ask it of him.
“Yes,” Lorenzo said. “We have become quite good friends. Companions… in the platonic sense, I assure you.”
“I have no doubt Plato would object,” Marsilio said with a bowing smile. “Even he wouldn’t have been able to see past her beauty.”
Lorenzo chuckled and turned away coyly so as not to let his teacher observe the color filling his cheeks—diffidence was not honorable. For a man with the gift of eloquence, Lorenzo was not accustomed to being at a loss for words, yet somehow discussing personal relations with his mentor proved a viable means of extricating any articulate response altogether.
“She is grand,” he said, unrolling the subsequent scroll from Marsilio’s stack of parcels. “Now, what else have you brought me today?”
Marsilio smirked and adjusted his red cap. “Yes, let’s move on.”
CHAPTER 19
SIENA, ITALY
SEPTEMBER 8
THE TIRES SCREECHED AS Morgan Forbes navigated the rented silver Renault Mégane underneath an arched opening inside the town’s ancient city wall. Once inside the ramparts, he observed the quaint setting showing off the town’s vibrant revival in the 14th century. The ruddy stonewalls and brickwork rose high into the sky filling the peripheral with a sea of cinnamon. The town was aptly named after the local production of one of the most significant pigments used throughout the Renaissance—Burnt Sienna. The pigment contained iron oxide and manganese oxide, which when heated, produced a reddish brown hue. Today, the town completely emanated it.
Forbes had only been given the name of a hotel and a single directive. Considering the sparse details it was less than ideal, but not unusual. He knew when to follow a lead and when to brush off a dead-end. Forbes had been seeking out ancient relics for years now. The tip-off he had gotten from Il Drago was promising… important enough to leave behind an unfinished exploration of the possible resting ground of El Dorado.
His instruction was simple:
Travel to Siena. There is a room at the Palazzo Donatello held under the name, James Tolman. Your instructions will be waiting there for you.
Forbes wasn’t used to taking orders, he was usually the one giving them. However, his history with Il Drago, albeit scarce, had been handsomely rewarding. Morgan knew that Il Drago chose him because he was a man who could get the job done. He had the resources and the expertise to track down anything of worth and he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty in the process. It was his survival of the fittest instinct that had gotten him to where he was. And if the treasure was as close as Il Drago claimed it was… then Forbes would soon be adding another acclaimed unearthing to his long list of discoveries. But this one will be much different.
He would be hailed as the greatest explorer of the century and would bask in the glory of it all. He already had his share of fame, but Forbes loved the spotlight and never hid from the media, which was fascinated with him… Morgan Forbes, the billionaire adventurer. After this, Forbes decided he would relax for a time and relish the fame. He might even finally take the time to write a book—Morgan Forbes, Autobiography of a Treasure Hunter. The notion brought a smile to his face.
He sped through the back roads until he reached the narrow streets closer to the city center. Further in, tourists clogged the streets and he was forced to drive slowly to avoid bumping into them. He took a left down a side street and approached an old building with an aged sign painted above the doorway.
PALAZZO DONATELLO
He had arrived.
CHAPTER 20
NORTHERN ITALY
SEPTEMBER 8
JACK AND CHESTER FLEW 25,000 feet above sea level through the skies in an Embraer Legacy 450. Chester had procured a luxury business jet transport which was prepped and waiting for them as soon as they arrived at Florence Airport, Peretola. The trip was short. In a matter of minutes they were already nearing the northern Italian Alpine range.
The sky was a brilliant blue outside, anchored by the impressive white spires below. The jagged, mountainous range looked to Jack like ancient wizards standing tall, keeping watch over the land. A snowy expanse stretched across the horizon, perforated only by the long green valleys and cozy, hillside villages that adorned the cliffs. The view out of Jack’s window was breath taking—the ageless beauty of Switzerland.
“I’ve got it!” Jack heard Chester exclaim from the seat across from him.
“Got what?”
“The scans… look!”
Chester pulled up a dark grey image on his tablet screen. At first it looked like a video game, but upon further inspection Jack realized what he was looking at.
“My god… this is incredible!” The awe in Jack’s voice showed how stunned he was. “You can see everything.”
“This was taken using the MOTSUs,” Chester said. “Or, the creepy, spider-looking things, as you referred to them.”
Jack shook his head in awe. “Well, as creepy as they are… the results are fascinating.”
The map showed an underground scan of the hillside from which Kathleen and Foley had been pulled. There appeared to be the remains of a small cabin carved into the side of the mountain. The scan revealed living quarters with remnants of sparse furnishings—household furniture and utensils. Jack could easily make out the outline of a spoon, fork and knife set.
“Watch this.”
Chester pinched the screen and pivoted his hand clockwise. The perspective of the image responded to his touch by shifting with his hand motions, altering the angle of viewing. Jack thought it to be similar to a CAD program in how the objects could spin around 3-Dimensionally and zoom in and out.
“Once you find an area of interest, you can enhance.”
He pinch-zoomed in close then circled an area with his index finger. Instantly the area became sharp and even further detailed.
“That looks like a mug… see the handle there?” Chester enhanced the frame and the pixels snapped together tightly, enhancing the outline of the stein-style cup. The detail of the scan was unbelievable. Jack almost felt like he was inside the room.
“It must have been someone’s living quarters… someone living outside of town. Maybe even—” he stopped. Something recognizable grabbed Jack’s eye. He zoomed in on the bottom of the screen and let the image enhance. The two men stared at the curious figure—a skeleton… curled up into the fetal position. Another one appeared to lay nearby, about ten feet away, scattered haphazardly, as if the bones had been distributed from an impact.
“There’s two of them,” Chester pointed out.
“And what’s this over here?” Jack asked, pointing to an object that looked to be in the shape of a human head. “A third?”
Chester circled the object, enhancing it. “Well, that looks like a head…” Chester said tentatively. “But it’s unlikely… the scan is far too solid and dense. Dark grey. Skeletal remains are much thinner and translucent. Look at the difference.” He placed both frames side by side. The distinction was obvious.
“Can you get any more definition out of that frame?”
Chester circled it again. The clarity increased along the edges and by sharpening the relief of the object it seemed to lift off the screen. Once the detail had been altered, the solution they were after was as clear as the alpine sky around them. Both men answered in unison.
“A bust.”
“…of Plato, no less,” Jack added. “Look at the Caesar-cut hairstyle and the prominent nose… the thick beard. That’s Plato.”
“A clue?”
“Not necessarily,” Jack said. “Busts like these were pretty common throughout the Renaissa
nce and even back through the Middle Ages. It doesn’t necessarily identify the proprietor as upper class either, seeing that cheap busts were commonly peddled by street vendors.” Jack moved to another object in the far right corner. “What’s this rectangle here? It looks fairly intact.”
Chester enhanced it. “Looks like a chest or drawer of some kind.”
“Can you see inside?”
“Gentlemen, we’re beginning our descent into St. Moritz,” the flight attendant informed with a smile. “I’m going to have to ask that you please stow your items now as we will be landing in less then 5 minutes.”
The men looked at each other with a faint look of surprise.
“Quick flight,” Jack said.
“Probably a quick landing too. We’re landing at Engadin, the highest elevated airport in Europe—5,600 feet.”
“So we’re landing in the actual Alps?”
Chester looked at Jack with a grin. “You ready to do some climbing?”
Jack looked out the window. “That depends,” he said with a smirk, “Do I have to wear a lederhosen?”
The plane descended onto a short runway nestled in a valley enclosed by the immense cliffs surrounding the airport. Due to the short runway, the plane immediately taxied to the airport’s one and only gate. As soon as Jack stepped out, a burst of wind knocked him sideways, sending a chill down his bones. He zipped up his parka and followed Chester across the tarmac to a parked white, 90s era Toyota Land Cruiser.
“It’s a very short drive to the site,” Chester said. “St. Moritz is right there.” He pointed across the landing strip to the south. “About… fifteen minutes away.”
“Good,” Jack said tightening the drawstring on his hood. “Let’s get going.”
