The Medici Letters: The Secret Origins of the Renaissance

by Taylor Buck

  “Jack!” Forlino cried. “We must hurry!”

  Jack shook off the hallucination and stood back away from the disks. He looked around him, taking in every detail he could. He searched for signs or symbols—any kind of clue as to what the answer might be. His eyes kept gravitating to the letters above the dials—APERIO.

  Look around you. The answer is here. It is out in the open.

  APERIO…

  Six letters.

  Then it came to him. Jack’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Is it that easy? He turned around and shielded himself from the flames using Valente’s cloak, then he waded into the fire, toward the center of the room.

  “Jack! What are you—?”

  On the ceiling, amidst the curling flames, was a word with 6 letters. The same word he had seen while lying on the floor.

  EXITVS

  The answer is around you.

  Jack leapt out of the flames and back to the cryptosystem. He felt another splash, this time hitting his cheek and rolling off. Dark red. He looked up. The beast was still on the ceiling—but it had grown much larger… It seemed to be secreting fluid from its long tentacles. Another splash landed on his fingers. Jack stopped to inspect it by rubbing it between his thumb and index finger. The texture was thin and translucent. It wasn’t blood… something else, traveling out across the ceiling in a star-like pattern. At the center was a hole that seemed to be growing in size too. Or was it? He couldn’t determine if it was real or just another hallucination.

  Jack noticed Forlino reach up and grab his earlobe. He then turned away and screamed loudly. He’s gone mad, Jack thought. He kept shouting something over and over but Jack couldn’t hear what he was saying over the noise of the crackling flames. With only seconds to spare, Jack kept focus on the task at hand…spinning the disks as fast as he could. He used both 6-letter words to decipher the text. It was his last option—his final attempt. It had to be right.

  APERIO=key

  EXITVS=cipher text

  The letters began to form the plaintext decryption.

  S…E…

  He spun the disk around, lining up the characters to find the next letter.

  M…P…

  “Faster! Faster! Hurry!” Forlino screamed. Jack could see him standing close by, urging him on, but looking in the other direction. Bizarrely, Forlino seemed to be shouting at the ceiling.

  Jack lined up the final characters, spinning the disks like pinwheels in a windstorm. The letters flew into position. The heat was blistering. He could feel the flames closing in now.

  E…R.

  S.E.M.P.E.R… Always.

  Cosimo’s motto. Jack couldn’t believe it. It was embarrassingly obvious.

  He input the letters into the combination and pulled the lever. The key slid free with a loud CLICK as the door was freed. A wave of relief passed through him. “I got it!” he yelled as he placed both palms on the door and pressed firmly. But the moment of relief ended abruptly.

  The door didn’t move.

  Jack pressed harder. It still wasn’t moving. He put all of his weight into it. “Forlino! Help me!” Jack shouted. Forlino stumbled over to help, looking dazed and stupefied. They both pressed. The door was still unmoving… it was jammed somehow. The debris around the corners, or possibly the pressure over time must have sealed it shut. Jack didn’t give up, he pressed with all his might, screaming fiercely. “Aaaaah!” He took another breath then channeled all remaining strength to push through the door. He gave it a final attempt and pressed—but it was hopeless. The door wasn’t moving.

  It was over.

  They would die down there…

  The flames grew closer.

  Jack thought of his daughters. He thought of Kat. All he had to do now was get to her. She had awakened from the coma, but he wasn’t there to see her. He had failed. He should have never come. Now he was going to burn alive inside this room. It was all crashing down.

  Then, suddenly… everything… turned… red.

  A crimson shower exploded from the ceiling and rained down on the flames below. Jack felt the liquid splash over his face, tasting a rich serum run over his lips and into his mouth. The distinct scent of fermentation entered his nostrils and perked his senses.

  Wine.

  It was wine! From the barrel that Jack cracked open earlier. They must be positioned somewhere beneath the cellar. A burgundy mist rained down from a small opening in the ceiling. A small sliver of light shone through before it was eclipsed by a high-powered spiraling torpedo-like contraption that screamed like a jet engine. Someone was drilling through the ceiling. The massive drill bit burrowed powerfully up and down until the hole became the size of grapefruit… then a basketball. Within a few seconds, the opening was nearly large enough to escape through. An exit. We are going to get out of here. Jack could see through the opening at the person operating the machine.

  It was Chester!

  The dust from the concrete swirled around the room stinging Jack’s eyes and filling his nose and mouth with dry powder. He shielded his face from the debris as the dust mixed together with the smoke inside the room. The room felt as if it was spinning, the thick smoke churning like a tornado and disorienting Jack’s senses. He quickly lost sight of Chester and the drill altogether. Forlino seemed to have disappeared too. Everything was black and fiery red around him—as if he was inside an inferno. He stumbled around trying to stabilize himself and grab onto anything he could in order to find his bearings. He felt the heat from the flames to his right—the other side of his body. It meant he was turned around facing south. The opening should be somewhere over…

  Jack heard voices shouting, he looked up. The smoke thinned momentarily and he could see Forlino being lifted out of the room. His legs kicked wildly as he was hoisted up by Chester. Forlino cleared the opening then struggled to his feet.

  “Chester!” Jack yelled excitedly. He grinned and reached up his hand through the smoke. From above, Forlino got to his feet and joined Chester at his side. Both men looked down at Jack through the dark hole. As Jack connected eyes with Chester, his excitement slowly dissipated. Strangely, Chester’s expression showed no recognition at all. No sign of familiarity. His face was stone cold and emotionless, disconnected—like Valente’s had been. Jack was confused—shocked. He felt gutted, severed… as if he had been stabbed in the heart. They weren’t going to help him out… they were going to leave him down there. He had been right; Chester was behind it all. My god… and Forlino, too?

  Forlino hollered something down to Jack as Chester disappeared out of sight. Through the commotion, Jack couldn’t make out what he said, but he was fairly certain it was in Italian. A farewell? Chester reappeared hoisting a large wine barrel that he spun across the floor. The barrel twisted over the hole until it was partially eclipsed—like a crescent moon. A sullen reminder of Il Drago. The only thing visible through the opening was Chester and Forlino’s cold gaze as they continued rolling the barrel over the hole. Jack wanted to scream, but he couldn’t find the strength inside. What use would it serve anyway? He felt confused, betrayed… defeated. The flames rose and engulfed the wooden hutch beside him. The ancient scrolls lit up and glowed a greenish hue as the wax melted away, carrying with it the secrets of forgotten knowledge. Jack didn’t care… none of it mattered anyway. Meaningless, meaningless. Everything is meaningless…

  He stood alone in the dark as the devouring flames closed in around him.

  CHAPTER 56

  FLORENCE, MEDICI VILLA AT FIESOLE

  SEPTEMBER 10

  THE GURGLING SOUND THAT accompanied his slow, painful wheezing wasn’t a good sign; it probably meant a lung had been perforated. Blood soaked the torn fabric where the small daggers had entered his chest. His ribcage had stopped most of the momentum of the small blades, but the wound in his shoulder was still leaking slowly, even with the tourniquet rigged tight. The pain coursing through his body was insatiable and pounding, as if he had just survived a head-on collisio
n with a Mack truck.

  Bloodied and bruised and in need of immediate medical attention, Morgan Forbes hobbled across the moonlit courtyard following the raucous hammering sounds resounding from the villa cellar. A trail of smoke escaped the open doors at the rear entrance spewing dark clouds into the night sky.

  They did it. They found the room.

  Moments ago, Forbes had awakened inside the lemonaia to the sound of raucous jackhammering. In a daze, he dragged himself outside only to find the noises grow louder. Now, as he approached the villa, it was clear that some sort of commotion was occurring from beneath the house. But what was going on down there? And where did the assassins’ bodies go? He looked along the upper garden. The woman’s body wasn’t where they had left it and there was no sign of anyone around. Just how long had he been out?

  He looked up into the sky. The clouds cleared. He figured he had lost consciousness for no more than 20 minutes—judging by the position of the moon. As he shuffled up to the square-shaped courtyard he took cover behind a potted cypress. Focus Morgan. You’re a survivor. Follow your intuition. Forbes quietly entered the kitchen door and made his way to the dining room. The power was still out so he tried his best to avoid the broken glass on the floor while shuffling along. He got down on all fours and ran his hands across the tile, searching in the dark. It was there somewhere. He continued feeling around until his fingers touched something cold—metal. He scooped up the weighty 45mm GLOCK, checking both the magazine and chamber. Just holding the weapon in his hand brought a sense of relief. Protection was his first priority and in his current physical condition he knew he would need all the help he could get.

  Wheezing for air like a lifelong chain smoker, Forbes got to his feet and made his way into the kitchen. He noticed wisps of smoke seeping out from behind the doorway to the cellar stairwell. He opened the door. The hammering noise suddenly stopped. All was quiet again. The chirp of the crickets outside the window slowly returned. The villa took on an eerie silence without the repetitive pounding echoing across the estate. He stood at the top of the stairs and looked down into the darkness. As his eyes adjusted he beheld a rather haunting scene. White smoke from beneath the cellar door slithered up and over the steps like ghosts ascending from the depths of hell. Gripping the gun tightly, he entered the darkness and descended the stairs one-by-one into the cellar until the sound of men’s voices grabbed his attention. He moved close to the wall to listen in on the discussion taking place. It was between two men… clearly an argument. He didn’t recognize the voices but one spoke with a faint Italian accent and the other was shouting over and over in some kind of East Slavic language.

  “Der'mo… Der'mo! Ty ubil yego! You killed him? Kakogo cherta vy dumali? What the ‘ell were you thinking?”

  “It’s better this way! For both of us. We don’t need him anyway. We have the book. That is all that matters!”

  “But eet was supposed to happen in Tangier… not here. We still needed him to arrange zee meeting with Ahmed.”

  “Forget about Ahmed! Look at what we have. Do you know what this is? It changes everything... Everything.”

  “Vhuz there anything else down there?”

  “This is all I could take with me… there’s much more.”

  “There’s More? Vee need everything! If there is more vee need to go back down.”

  “No! It’s useless now... The fire. And Cullen is still down there.”

  Jack is still down there? Forbes gathered himself. Jack was alive… but was probably trapped below. Forbes gripped the gun tightly and mustered his remaining strength then he burst through the doorway with gun drawn. The two men turned and faced him with a look of surprise.

  “Get down there! Now!” Forbes barked.

  Neither man moved. They both stared back blankly before Chester managed a shaky response. “Forbes?” He sounded astonished. “What are you—?”

  “You have 3 seconds to get Jack out of there before I fashion a release valve in your forehead.” Forbes steadied his finger on the trigger. “Now move!”

  “Wait a minute,” Forlino jumped in. “I don’t know what your—”

  “One…”

  Chester stopped and looked tensely at Forlino as if weighing the options. Forlino looked uneasily at the barrel, then back at Forbes.

  “Two…”

  “Alright!” Chester said and wrapped his hands around the large wine barrel. Forlino joined in next to him and they swung the barrel to the side as the smoke escaped through the gaping perforation in the floor. The roar of the fire sounded from below.

  “Now get your ass down there and pull him out,” Forbes commanded.

  “It’s useless,” Forlino said. “He couldn’t have survived. It’s—”

  “There. Use that,” Forbes said pointing to an old wooden ladder leaning on the back wall. Forlino relented, and then reluctantly took a step forward.

  “No,” Forbes said pointing a stern finger toward Chester. “He goes. Move along… Cossack.”

  Chester stared back menacingly over his black frames and began rolling up his sleeves. He grabbed the ladder off the wall and navigated it toward the opening.

  “Jack! Can you hear me?” Forbes shouted down the hole. “We’re coming to get you out.”

  There was no response from below, only the sharp crackling of the fire. Chester lowered the ladder into the opening. As soon as the wood frame descended down into the hole it caught fire like giant match and became engulfed. Chester staggered backward. He attempted to look down into the hole but the heat was too severe. He placed his arm in front of his face to shield the hot air and turned back to Forbes. “It’s no use! He’s not there. Cullen’s not down there.”

  “Yes he is! You left him down there… you get him out. I don’t care if you burn alive in the process.”

  “I’m telling you, he’s not there!” Chester argued.

  Forbes stepped forward and carefully peered down inside. He could see the fire raging below. A series of wooden cabinets were engulfed in flames. Next to it, a blazing mound was glowing yellow… motionless… flames curling around it like a hot briquette. A body?

  Forbes grew furious. “Then who is that?”

  “It’s not Jack,” replied Forlino. “It’s someone else.”

  “Someone else? Then who? Tell me!”

  “Valente!” Forlino blurted as if the name were cursed. “Ignazio Valente.”

  Chester stepped forward. “You, however, would know him as… Il Drago.”

  Forbes kept the gun locked on Chester. He wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly. He looked down at the raging ball of flames. “What did you say?”

  Chester stood tall and composed. “That burning cinder ball of human flesh…” he said pointing down, “is Il Drago.”

  “That…” Forbes pointed, “is Il Drago?”

  Both men nodded.

  Forbes didn’t know what to think. It didn’t make sense…nothing did. In fact, nonsensical events and occurrences seemed to be the running theme of the evening. “Then where is Cullen?” he snapped.

  “He’s gone!” yelled Chester. “You saw it yourself. Nobody could survive down there that long. It’s impossible.”

  Forbes stepped back away from the opening and managed a weak smile. The evening couldn’t possibly get any stranger. He scratched the thick stubble along his chin and shook his head.

  “What? Am I missing something?” Chester asked. “What’s funny?”

  “It’s not impossible,” Forbes said. “If there’s a way out… he’ll find it. You clearly don’t know Jack Cullen like I do.”

  CHAPTER 57

  FLORENCE, MEDICI VILLA AT FIESOLE

  SEPTEMBER 10

  JACK FELT HIS WAY through the dark tunnel pausing every twenty feet to expel the heavy smoke inside his lungs. Everything was a blurry haze. He wasn’t quite sure if he was alive or just descending into the depths of purgatory.

  An unlikely last-ditch effort had proven successful. With the last b
reath of remaining oxygen left in his lungs, Jack had heaved his body onto Alberti’s exit door. Maybe it was the sudden change in temperature or the lubrication from the wine barrel, but the door flew open like gates at a horserace and Jack found himself tumbling ass-over-teakettle into a dark passageway. He didn’t know where he was or where he was going, but he was overjoyed to be out of that raging pit of hellfire. With his hands guiding the way, he shuffled along the narrow, earthen shaft.

  Keep moving. Kathleen is awake. You need to get to her.

  He picked up his pace and continued running with his hands wildly flailing in front of him like a madman. The earth below was damp and soft—sloshy. In fact, the further he went the wetter it became. Soon he was splashing around a few inches of standing water. He kept running, picking up his feet and high stepping over the stream beneath until he spotted a beam of light ahead. He strained to see in the dark, craning to get a better view when he unknowingly collided headfirst into a concrete silo. The next thing he knew, he was laying on his back in the muddy water staring at a dirt ceiling. He felt a throbbing pain coming from his forehead and knew without checking that it was a deep gash. It was that kind of pain. Seconds later he felt the warm blood trickle down his face. He wiped it away and shook off the sting. All that mattered was that he could see the ceiling of the tunnel, which meant there was light coming from somewhere.

  An exit?

  He got to his feet and ran his hands along the round cement cylinder running vertically from the tunnel to the ground level above. Fingers searching around, they found a grate which Jack grabbed firmly and pulled. It turned out to be a small hatch hung by a crusty hinge that swung open allowing access inside a cement shaft. He crawled in and found an old ladder leading up roughly 8 feet to a small enclosure. He ascended the rungs until he reached the top of the ladder and could go no further. His head fit neatly into a dome perforated with small squares that let in the moonlight. He could see through them. Outside, the magnolia trees swayed in a gentle breeze and the boxwood hedges rustled along the walkway. Jack knew precisely where he was.