The Medici Letters: The Secret Origins of the Renaissance

by Taylor Buck

  Kathleen hit ground level. She kicked open the door and ran down into the lobby, spilling out into the reception area and knocking into the main desk. It was dark. She couldn’t see anything. The hospital lobby was like a ghost town—completely deserted. Bizarre. There is no sign of anyone anywhere. The moonlight came through the entrance doors across from the reception. She quickly made her way to the front doors, and to her surprise—they both automatically slid open. Cold air blew against her face, picking up her awareness. She stepped out into the dark night wearing only a pale blue hospital gown. Shouts were coming again from behind. They were in the lobby now.

  She dialed another number and then took off across the parking lot using the moonlight as a guide. A man’s voice answered on the other line. He sounded surprised to hear from her. She shouted a few questions and made arrangements, then hung up the phone. Kathleen spotted the massive hospital across the parking lot. Unlike the building she just escaped from, the main hospital was lit up like a Christmas tree, bustling with people.

  She would be safe there. At least for the time being.

  For the first time that evening, Kathleen had a feeling of hope. Maybe she could get to him in time… Maybe.

  CHAPTER 55

  FLORENCE, COSIMO’S CHAMBER

  SEPTEMBER 10

  JACK WATCHED BLOOD BEGIN to pool and seep across the ground like a crimson, liquescent beast—pursuing, intent on devouring him as prey. He tried to suppress the visuals that ricocheted through his psyche, unnatural sights—nightmarish hallucinations attempting to drive him mad. The drugs were powerful, but Jack knew he could regulate the effects if he concentrated. He shook his head and craned his neck to see behind him, trying to get a glimpse of who had entered the room. Then he felt the restraints on his wrists give way. His arms fell to the floor and he tried to push himself up. A shadowy figure stood above him—tan skin and a mane of slicked back curls. It was Massimo Forlino, looking dumbfounded and broken with emotion as he stared down at Valente’s lifeless body.

  “My god… It’s just as I feared,” he said in a shaky voice. The revolver in his hand dangled loosely at his side. “My darkest suspicion was true after all.”

  Jack rose to his feet and released the restraints around his ankles. He tried to shake off the dizziness. His ears were still ringing from the gunshots. “You mean you knew about this? About him?”

  Forlino looked at Jack with a distant gaze. His eyes drifted over the bulging scales across Valente’s back before he seemed to emerge from his dreamlike state. “Not exactly, otherwise I would have put a stop to this long ago. However, I can’t help but feel that I am partly responsible…” he trailed off.

  “Forlino,” Jack said gravely, “you need to tell me what you know about all this. You feel responsible—why?”

  Forlino looked up at Jack. His bottom lip was trembling. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cullen, but this is quite shocking. I—”

  Jack stepped forward and put his hand on Forlino’s shoulder in an effort to console him. “Please… I must know.”

  “I owe you an explanation,” continued Forlino, trying to compose himself. “It was something your wife said. She inquired about Valente just before she went missing. However, I assured her that her assumptions were false. I know now that it is not the case.” He looked down at Valente’s corpse—mangled, bloody and covered in scarred protrusions. “Fifteen years I’ve known this man. It was all a guise. All of it.”

  “Signore Forlino, how did you know to come here? How did you find me?” Jack asked.

  “Mr. Allen informed me, just as I was on my way back to the dig.”

  “Chester?” Jack asked surprised.

  “He was quite alarmed,” Forlino said. “He said you broke communication with him?”

  “Yes,” Jack said restlessly running a hand through his hair. “I thought… I guess I believed him to be part of all this.”

  Forlino raised his dark eyebrows. “Mr. Cullen, I may not see eye to eye with Chester Allen, but I would find it difficult to question which side he was on. He said he followed you to make sure you were safe—using his hummingbird. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known where to find you.”

  Of course, thought Jack. It now made sense… the buzzing noise in the tunnels… it was the hummingbird. Chester had seen everything. He had been there all along, trying to help. Damn. Jack felt horrible for doubting him.

  “To be honest, I don’t know who to trust anymore,” Jack said, still trying to gain focus. He could still feel the fogginess of the drugs. “Listen, we need to get out of here. I just got off the phone with—” He stopped suddenly and looked around, sniffing the air curiously. There was a burning smell… a waxy aroma… honey. Jack looked to the front of the room. His eyes suddenly grew wide. “Fire!” he yelled.

  The table in the center of the room glowed red as it instantly became engulfed in flames. Jack spotted Valente’s hot metal lying on top of a waxen scroll—the parchment acting like lighter fluid. He sprung forward and without thinking, reached into the fire. The flames licked at his fingertips as he grasped desperately for Solomon’s book.

  “Jack!” Forlino called out in protest. “What are you doing?”

  The flames grew higher. Jack tore the corner of the book trying to pull it out. He yanked his arms out and saw smoke hovering above his forearms. He entered again. This time he grasped the book and flung it out of the flames. He shouted to Forlino as it whipped through the air. Forlino lurched forward and caught the manuscript just inches above the ground. He lifted the smoldering book, examining the cover. It took only a moment for him to realize what it was. His eyes grew wide and his jaw slacked.

  “Is this—?”

  “We have to go!” Jack yelled. He looked at the table, now a beacon of flames reaching up to the ceiling. It was too late to extinguish. The flames were far too large. Jack found it astounding how quickly the fire had got out of control—almost instantaneously.

  “Wait! There are more books like this?” Forlino yelled as he clutched the manuscript tightly. He walked to the back wall looking mystified with the contents inside the room. “Madonna mia! We… we must save what we can.”

  “No. We need to go now!” Jack yelled back. He ran to the door and stopped. He slammed his palm against the door and cursed loudly.

  Forlino stared back inquiringly. “What? What is it?” He wasn’t aware that he had unknowingly closed off their one and only exit.

  Jack tried to remain calm. He looked up at the ceiling and began to search desperately around the room, stopping at the chest.

  “Wait! Where’s the handle? How do we get out?” Forlino cried with a look of terror.

  “There isn’t one!” Jack snapped. “It’s a security mechanism—like a box trap. There has to be another way out, though. A trap door, dead man’s switch… secret exit or something.”

  “My god… we’re stuck in here?” Forlino gasped, his face quickly draining color.

  “Over here!” Jack cried. “I need your help.” He positioned himself behind the chest. Forlino joined him and they both pressed it toward the burning case. As it made contact, the wood split apart and scattered to the far corner of the room. It didn’t stop the fire but it succeeded in distributing it away from them.

  “It’s still spreading!” Forlino yelled.

  “Look!” Jack said and pointed upward. On the ceiling, Forlino could see a faint message etched into the concrete. The smoke had begun to tarnish it but it was still legible.

  EXITVS

  An arrow beneath the letters pointed to the back of the room. He knew now why Jack had moved the casing. The flames were blackening a message or map of sorts on the ceiling. The engraving provided directions on how to exit the room.

  “I saw it earlier, when I was on the ground,” Jack said. “It’s pointing over here.” He stood in front of the door furthest left, larger than many of the other doors, something he had noticed right away. His pulse racing, he swung open the door, hoping to see a tunnel or
escape hatch. Instead, he saw a thick sheet of bronze with the word APERIO etched expertly along the top. It was a door similar to the entrance but considerably smaller. Fixed onto the door was a large round wheel with letters and numbers along the perimeter. Further down the door, below the wheel was a series of rotating discs with letters, like a combination lock on a briefcase. It looked like some sort of steam punk escape hatch. As soon as Jack studied the detailed contraptions his heart sank—he knew immediately what it was. Knowing who built this room, he had half expected to see a cryptosystem somewhere, but had hoped otherwise. The top wheel with its rows of letters and accompanying numbers was an ancient tool of cryptography known as an Alberti Cipher, aptly named after the man who invented it— Leon Battista Alberti. The same man who built the villa. This cipher was an effective tool of encryption used for hundreds of years as a means of codifying messages, all the way up until World War I.

  Its construction was relatively simple. Two concentric disks were positioned against the wall—one large and one smaller disk set inside. The outer wheel, stablis, contained an uppercase alphabet, while the inner wheel, mobilis, contained lowercase letters. Encoding was achieved by turning the inner wheel left or right and lining the characters up in their appropriate positions. The key to cracking the code was knowing which character was the index letter (the letter acting as the anchor for the message). It wasn’t the most advanced cipher, but certainly complex for the day in which the room was constructed. Jack was vaguely familiar with the Alberti Cipher Wheel, but he had never actually used one before. He was the first to admit his limited proficiency in cryptography and the current situation presented yet another scenario confirming that he was no doubt the wrong person for the task at hand. As usual, it was Kathleen’s area of expertise, not his. She could probably decode it with no need for the key at all…

  “Mr. Cullen!”

  Jack turned around to see Forlino pointing anxiously at the fire, now raging in the corner of the room. It was growing in size every second and Jack knew they only had another minute or two before the room was entirely filled with smoke. He closed his eyes and focused. The effects of the poison were still coursing through his body… he could almost feel the toxin flowing through his veins. It was a peculiar, warming sensation that made his skin tingle. His mind was alert, however. Strange. Instead of it being a detractor, he actually found himself in a heightened level of awareness—as if he were extra attentive and absorbed in every detail.

  “Try to buy us some time!” Jack yelled and then turned focus on the wheels. He placed his hands on the dials. His palms were sweaty… it was incredibly hot inside the room. What would the index letter be? What would Cosimo have chosen? Jack had no idea where to start, and at this point…it didn’t matter anyway. It was essentially worthless to even attempt.

  “No… No! Pezzo di merda!”

  Forlino seemed to be losing his mind, shouting and cursing at the flames. They had only a few minutes of oxygen left and cracking an Alberti Cipher would take much longer than a few minutes, especially without the key and cipher text.

  He switched focus to the revolving letters below the Alberti Cipher disk. Upon first inspection, it looked to be a simple combination lock. The 5 disks rotated vertically displaying one letter at a time, just like a bicycle lock. The letters needed to fit together in precise order for the internal toothed pin to be extracted. Subsequently the door would be released.

  Six letters… Maybe he could just guess the answer and bypass the Alberti Cipher altogether. Jack gave it a try, going with the first word that came to mind. He spun the disks, which rotated stubbornly from their fixed positions until the letters aligned.

  MEDICI

  He pulled the latch. It didn’t budge. It was a long shot and he knew it wasn’t the right word immediately because there was no release sound. If the disks were lined up correctly a clicking sound would accompany the last letter, indicating the pin was freed. MEDICI would be too obvious anyway. He looked along the door for any other clues. His eyes fell upon the inscription at the top: APERIO… Latin, which meant open or uncover. Sure, Jack thought. As if it was that easy... Then he realized something… the language.

  Latin…

  He tried MEDICE, the Latin usage. No movement. He then tried COSMVS, seeing that Alberti surely would have used Latin over Italian when choosing the cipher text.

  The door still didn’t budge.

  “Mr. Cullen!” Forlino yelled. He had thrown the chest on the fire upside down to trap the flames inside. It helped momentarily but the flames soon began to escape out the bottom. Jack looked around the room for anything he could tame it with. His eyes stopped on the lantern above, then the lamp reflector. “There! Help me get this down!” Jack commanded. They each took a side and shook it back and forth until it pulled free from its position. The reflector disk was about 3 or 4 feet wide and curved like a Chinese gong. Jack heaved it on top of the flames like a Frisbee. It landed flat on the ground and quickly smothered a majority of the fire; however, the flames began to slowly slither out the bottom and creep up the supporting pillars in the corner of the room.

  Jack turned and approached the disks again. A faint pounding sound like a repetitive din seemed to be echoing through his head now, interrupting his focus. The drugs were relentless. Highs and lows. He felt the effects of opposing sensations. Like small windows of lucidity, his focus would open and then close. His best chance was channeling the intervals and riding the wave through. At the moment, the only way out was deciphering Alberti’s cryptosystem. Jack rolled up his drenched sleeves and focused on the letters. He needed to start with a key—either a series of letters or numbers. What made it even more difficult was that Alberti’s key system was irregular. It could be the same key for the first letter and then change upon each additional one, making the encryption even stronger and more difficult to crack.

  Six letters.

  He tried first by using a single key—the number 4, a number seemingly significant to Cosimo. He aligned the lowercase a under the number 4 on the stablis. Then he proceeded to decipher the code using Cosimo’s name as the cipher text.

  MEDICE

  VLKRGL

  Jack entered the letters into the combination lock… he pulled…

  Nothing.

  He tried again, this time using Cosimo’s name as the cipher text and still using the number 4 as the key.

  COSMVS

  G&OVQO

  Gibberish. The plaintext didn’t make any sense… it was usually the opposite—the cipher text was encoded and the plaintext was the message…he input the answer anyway. It didn’t move. This time he used Cosimo’s first name as the key and his last as the cipher text. Key=COSMVS, Ciphertext=MEDICE.

  MEDICE

  VGQE&I

  Jack knew without pulling the lever that it wouldn’t work. Realizing he had nothing to lose, he tried anyway. The door didn’t budge. He cursed and stepped back away from the disks as Forlino walked over.

  “There’s nothing else I can do,” Forlino said panting for breath. “The fire is spreading.” His eyes drifted to the disks on the wall. “What is that?” he asked.

  “It’s an Alberti Cipher. This door opens if the combination is correct. It must have been a failsafe to protect unwanted intruders.”

  “Like a letter shift cipher?”

  “Yes, but it’s dependent on a key that can change every letter making it even more difficult,” said Jack.

  Forlino studied the letters and dials then he paused and stared at the word etched into the top of the door—APERIO.

  “Aperio,” he whispered.

  “Open,” Jack said. “It means to open, right?”

  Forlino glanced nervously back to the fire. His face was as pale as a ghost. “My god…” he said trembling. “We’re going to die in here.”

  “Forlino!” Jack yelled. “Focus. We are not going to die. What were you saying about this word? Aperio.” Jack pointed at the letters, directing Forlino’s eyes to
it.

  “Ap…p…perio,” Forlino stammered. He studied Alberti’s disks, transfixed on the craftsmanship of the cryptosystem. “It means open, but it’s more than that. Aperio means reveal… to uncover something. Or make things clearer by looking around you.”

  Jack realized that Forlino was entirely correct. He hadn’t thought to dissect the deeper derivation of the word. The Latin word Aperio had a significantly greater meaning. Besides the primary meaning, it also meant naked or exposed. Aperio literally meant that the naked truth was in front of your eyes.

  Jack quickly scanned the space around him. The answer to the code had to be somewhere in the room. “Look around!” Jack yelled. “The key has to be in here!” He inspected the wood hutch up and down, then shifted his gaze across the many books… Was the answer hidden inside one of the manuscripts? If so, he would never be able to find it in time. He coughed violently and heaved over. Smoke was filling the room and making it nearly impossible to breathe. Somehow it was getting loud inside the room too, extremely loud—almost like the room was pulsing or shaking. He knew it was all in his head, though. Beads of sweat poured off Jack’s brow as he stabilized himself with his hands on his knees. His shirt was drenched. The heat was intolerable. He glanced over at the fire on the other side of the room. It was only a minute or so before the flames would engulf them. Jack reached down and grabbed the thick cloak from Valente’s corpse and ripped it off him. He threw it around himself and Forlino to help shield them from the intense heat.

  APERIO

  The answer is here… somewhere. Jack reached up and grabbed the disks. He fumbled the dials clumsily and took a moment for his eyes to focus on the letters. They seemed to be merging into a mess of jumbled shapes.

  I’m light-headed—a sign of asphyxiation.

  The oxygen inside the room was draining fast. He refocused, grasped the disk again and slowly turned. It’s so hot. Can’t breathe. He felt a warm splash on his arm. He looked down and spotted a streak of liquid—it was dark red. Blood? Am I bleeding? He quickly swept his fingers across his brow line, then he looked up and saw a dark spot on the ceiling. It began to grow and spread outward like a beast with long wavy tentacles. What the—?