by Tom Pollack
Then the dome sealed everything.
CHAPTER 76
Ercolano: Present Day
AMANDA JAMES STARED AT the two ash-covered figures frozen in front of her. A ghostly silence engulfed the chamber. In contrast to the shattering roar of the volcano’s ancient eruption, the stillness jolted her back to the here and now as her vision drew to a close.
“Incredible,” she murmured, looking at the tile dangling from the neck of the powerful wrestler she now knew to be Cain. Drawing a deep breath, she checked her watch. It was a few minutes past noon—millennia had been compressed into a mere three hours!
Amanda carefully removed the chain from around Cain’s neck, noticing some exposed portions of bone on his skeletal frame that was otherwise coated by hardened mud and ash. Next, she nervously extracted the tile from the devil’s grasp. As she did so, his right arm and shoulder disintegrated into coarse powder, revealing a grotesque, hollow shell. In the cool dry air of the cavernous repository, she now understood that only one of these two beings had truly perished here.
The other was still on the loose.
Examining the ceramic gaming tile in the halogen beam of her headlamp, Amanda saw the green serpent depicted on it, partially obscured by a small, dark blot that she knew was the blood of Jesus.
It hadn’t been a hallucination!
Since the vision had ended at the instant of Cain’s death, she found herself wondering whether Rina had survived on that terrifying night. Abruptly, a stark image from one of the towering blood-draped murals on the walls of Luc Renard’s villa flashed through her mind. It was the vivid portrayal of a tall, red-haired woman about to be devoured by lions in the Roman Colosseum. Amanda was shaken as she recognized the striking female in the painting. Rina looked about ten years older than she remembered her. Had the devil made good on his threat to take revenge and have Rina killed as a wanted criminal, or was she swept up with other Christians and barbarically sacrificed for the pleasure of Rome’s cheering mob? Amanda guessed she would never know the real reason behind Rina’s execution.
Even more perplexing was the fact that Cain’s wife was completely unknown to history. How then, could Renard have possibly commissioned a painting that celebrated her death? Further reflection on the tabloid billionaire did nothing to quell her rising alarm. She recalled his extravagant party at Villa Colosseum. The suave host had vigorously attempted to lure her to Japan instead of Italy. Renard’s job offer had seemed so flattering last Thursday evening, but now Amanda suspected it was a deliberate attempt to prevent her from making this discovery. What else to make of the near miss on the highway the moment she’d rebuffed him? Or the man at the airport in Rome—the limousine driver holding a placard with her name on it? Or the car that chased them on the drive to Ercolano?
Luc’s real aim in this bizarre set of circumstances crystalized in Amanda’s consciousness. The devil was working overtime to thwart Cain’s most cherished wish: that his story be told one day.
Shuddering, Amanda knew there could be only one conclusion regarding Luc…
Zzzzzt. Her headlamp flickered and died.
Amanda fought to keep sudden panic at bay. In the haunting quiet she could almost hear the blinking of her eyelids while she adjusted to the inky blackness.
“Relax,” she told herself, “it’s just the batteries.” Feeling her way toward the curvature of the rotunda, she pulled out the fancy lighter Juan Carlos had given her in case of an emergency.
“Thank you, Johnny!” she whispered, flicking the cap open with a loud ping that resonated through the chamber. As she lit several candles, a warm glow began to brighten the observatory. Wavering shadows of the marble statues and other artifacts sprang to life along the soaring, circular wall.
Although she was skittish, her professional curiosity returned. Amanda tried to resist, but she couldn’t help but imagine how this stunning archaeological and religious discovery would propel Silvio’s team and the Getty to the world stage. After all, Silvio was right—this find would indeed rival the unearthing of the Dead Sea Scrolls!
Dr. James moved slowly, lighting more candles as she mentally catalogued the objects she examined. All the exhibits matched her vision exactly. With half the room lit, she glanced upward to the ceiling. Sure enough, sparkling diamonds and other gemstones the size of golf balls were embedded in the dome to depict the constellations of the Milky Way galaxy. A shimmering full moon, with the iridescence of mother-of-pearl, glinted benignly down at her. Anchored next to the ash-covered bodies, a large, complex looking ancient telescope bore witness to its owner’s interest in the heavens. The British Museum in London would marvel at this collection of antiquities!
Yet those same stuffy curators would be stunned by the physical proof of Cain’s existence, Amanda thought.
She moved toward the rosewood cabinet containing the scrolls that chronicled Cain’s life story. She grabbed a small pick out of her backpack. “Professional standards be damned,” she thought, given the magnitude of what had just happened. She would break the seal and stuff the protective metal tubes into her knapsack and head out. Surely, Silvio would understand.
As she was about to chip away the thick wax on the cabinet door, she felt a low rumbling vibration, and suddenly the chamber lurched violently back and forth, almost knocking her off her feet. Dozens of splintering cracks rocketed up the interior wall as the observatory shook. Several of the sparkling diamonds embedded in the ceiling fell to the floor, one grazing a minor cut in her forearm. She dropped the pickax and covered her unprotected head. Nearby, two cabinets containing colorful glass specimens broke free of their wall anchors and toppled with an earsplitting crash.
After almost a full minute, the stone floor ceased undulating like a giant slab of gelatin. Irregularly shaped fissures in the walls high above continued to spit out dust-laden chunks of plaster and broken concrete. The gargantuan structure was groaning under its own weight. Fearing the entire chamber might collapse, Amanda sprinted toward the iron lever Cain used to open the bronze portals and pulled downward with all her might. She had to get out!
“Come on, come on—work…” she nervously whispered while beads of perspiration spotted the front and back of her T-shirt.
She heard a distant grinding sound, and the twin bronze doors of the observatory slowly ratcheted open toward her.
“Yes!” She pumped her fist, knowing she would make it out alive.
Amanda slipped through the entryway and reignited the lighter to guide her way back through the winding crack. She could hardly wait to breathe fresh air and share the amazing news concerning the artifacts inside the chamber with Silvio and the team. Perhaps she could even figure out a way to explain the fantastic vision to Johnny!
But in the flickering darkness, her excited state of relief rapidly yielded to alarm.
Her path was blocked.
Outside the bronze portals, the earthquake had squeezed together the already narrow rock passage to just a few inches. Worse, grotesquely protruding from the crack was a lifeless human arm, crushed at the shoulder.
“Johnny!” she shrieked in horror. But something from within the nightmarish sight caught her eye. There, on a finger that was too small to belong to Juan Carlos’s hand, a familiar signet ring reflected the lighter’s flame with a purplish gleam.
“My God…Dr. Walker!” There was no mistaking his ring. She had seen it time and again as he pontificated to her from behind his desk at the Getty. What was he doing here? She fought down the bile rising in her throat, her trembling hands dropping the lighter to the floor as she backed away from the terrifying scene.
After a minute, Amanda managed to bring her breathing under control as she struggled to comprehend Walker’s demise. In the silent gloom, she heard it.
The striking of a match.
Amanda wheeled around and gasped at the sight of the white-haired, diminutive figure of the muralist, Giovanni Genoa. He stood near the mud-splattered telescope in the center of the
observatory. His courteous smile was belied by the unflinching gaze that he riveted on the ceramic tile still firmly clasped in her hand.
Giovanni Genoa’s grin broadened as he set a wooden match to a candle wick in front of him, illuminating his wizened features.
“Buon giorno, Signorina James!” he greeted. “It is so enchanting to see you again. And to find you here, of all places, in this cabinet of curiosities!” He gently blew out the match and a swirl of smoke jetted across the chamber, whorling against the life-size crucifix hanging on the wall.
“Bull’s-eye,” he spat.
Ignoring his twisted humor and the feigned sincerity, Amanda noticed that throughout the salutation, his attention darted between her eyes and the tile. Despite the thumping in her chest that seemingly reverberated throughout the chamber, she summoned her courage and took a small step toward him. Sure enough, he moved an equal distance away from her. Emboldened, she slowly proceeded toward the artist, initiating a tense promenade as they traced a gradual circle around the ash-covered corpses under the oculus.
This was no guardian angel sent to rescue her—just the opposite.
“What are you doing here, Signor Genoa?” she demanded, hoping her tone exuded confidence.
“I might inquire the same of you, signorina, but for your obvious professional interests.” Gesturing around the periphery, he added, “What splendid marvels were created in those ancient times! They are beyond our wildest imaginings. I know you must be thrilled to see these exhibits. They would be so important to the Getty Museum. And speaking of the Getty, you see that Dr. Walker has once again been seeking the limelight you deserve, although this time apparently without much success.”
“How dare you! He must have been trying to rescue me from this place,” she retorted. “I’m indebted to him.”
“His death is most unfortunate. May I point out, however, that it opens the way to fresh possibilities?” Genoa’s voice was softly persuasive.
Propelling the painter backward with each step, Amanda frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Why, you are Dr. Walker’s most obvious and qualified successor!” gushed the muralist as he duplicated her casual gait. “If the Getty were a more equitable institution, you would have been promoted long ago. Now the way to a higher-ranking position has been cleared for you.”
“I would never seek to profit from his tragic death!”
“No one would make such an accusation, my dear young lady,” oozed the pained words of the diminutive man. “We all have to make our way in the world. That celebrity television career in Japan wasn’t right for you, Dr. James. I apologize for underestimating your ambitions, but I can now arrange an even greater future for you at the Getty; a future that makes full use of your obvious talents…but first, you must do me a small favor.”
“And what is that, Signor Genoa?”
“Actually, I would ask your cooperation in two matters. First, you must agree never to divulge certain items in this collection. Then, return that tile in your hand to its rightful owner. It is of no real historical importance to you or the Getty. If you agree, I will escort you to safety and see to it that you obtain your rightful place at the Getty.”
She looked down at the ceramic token in her hand. “And what if I refuse?”
“Come, now,” Genoa wheedled. “What is a tiny piece of clay in comparison with your future?”
Amanda held the tile up and studied it. “We both know this is far more than a piece of clay. If I do what you ask, you will either kill me or leave me to rot in this chamber.”
“That is a most uncharitable remark, signorina. I come here to assist you, and you treat an old man so discourteously.” Genoa furrowed his brow. “Strange, though, that you have not inquired how I arrived in this godforsaken place. Perhaps you were expecting someone else, no?”
“Perhaps I was, but you’re no mere painter, and you’re certainly no saint. Shall we just drop the pretense, Satan?”
“Marvelous deduction, young lady.” The painter looked at the likeness of the cloaked youth portrayed in the shadows of the mural overhead. “You are indeed a master puzzle solver and deserve cathedrals full of praise! No doubt you cobbled together the clues to my existence from the walls of this repository of lies,” surmised the devil as he stretched both hands toward the Circus Maximus mural. “But no matter, for I am here to present you with options. I always try to help, never to kill or injure anyone!”
“That’s a lie!” she burst out, gesturing to Cain’s corpse in the room’s center. “I saw you try to kill him at the chariot festival in Rome. I know this as a fact!”
The devil arched his bushy eyebrows, taken aback by the accuracy of Amanda’s declaration. “How could you possibly know that?” His eyes earnestly scanned the candlelit chamber, and he noticed that the rosewood cabinet containing Cain’s life story still bore an unbroken wax seal.
“Now tell me, exactly what have you seen, young lady?” the devil purred inquisitively.
Realizing her mistake, and clutching the tile even tighter, Amanda dropped her guard and boldly declared, “Well, this pendant may have been yours, but Jesus’s blood transformed it. When I touched it, I received a vision of Cain’s entire life!”
“How intriguing! So now you understand how I deal with an uncooperative murderer. However, I always reward my followers. Take Luc Renard, for example. Riches suited him just fine, but I am well aware of your professional ambitions. I would have no difficulty arranging for you to become the Getty Museum’s curator of antiquities after a few short years in Walker’s post.”
Pausing to gauge her interest, the devil added for good measure, “And what if that lovely face and body of yours could remain youthful for decades to come? I have that power…”
“You take me for a fool?” she interrupted hotly. “You claimed responsibility for Cain’s youthfulness and regeneration, but it was just another of your countless lies.”
“Amanda, please, if I may be so bold, life is all about getting your fair share, being happy here on Earth, and making it last. Quite frankly, I don’t see that happening with you. Open that locket you’re wearing, and whom will we find?”
Amanda considered her mother’s faded picture inside the locket.
The devil continued, “Nothing but the past, my dear. You’ve been a lonely workaholic ever since God robbed you of your parents. Is that how you want to spend your prime years?”
Irritated, Amanda countered sharply, “Maybe not, but I wouldn’t be thrilled to hang out with you and your followers. Besides, I have people who care about me.”
“Yes, I know you fancy that impetuous young Spaniard out there. You may find out presently how foolish it is to place your hopes in him. Your only real hope lies with me, not some washed-up soccer star.”
Amanda shook her head. “There’s no way I’ll trust anything you say. I will not give you this tile.”
The devil sighed. “If you wish to complicate matters, we shall do it your way. In time, you will learn to trust me. For the time being, however, to make you feel more comfortable, you may be the keeper of my tile.”
His voice then deepened and boomed across the chamber. “But you must remain silent about your vision.”
“You seem awfully insecure about Cain,” Amanda countered with a touch of confidence. “I do suppose the story of his extraordinary life and redemption would prove somewhat disruptive in your realm of hopelessness.”
As their slow circular procession continued in the semidarkness, Amanda felt an irregular surface beneath her feet. Glancing down, she recognized that she had stepped on the grated drain Cain had installed in the floor to catch rainwater. Would it afford her a means of escape?
She stopped strolling toward the devil, who in turn halted. Amanda was now convinced.
She held all the power, and it was right in her hands.
Facing the devil, she smiled broadly and declared, “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on your offers, signore. The excavation tea
m knows I’m down here. It’s only a matter of time before they rescue me.”
The charming expression abruptly departed from Giovanni Genoa’s face. The devil gestured up to the ceiling of the observatory and sternly intoned, “Very well. Behold the dome above. Let me show you what your creator has in store for you.”
Amanda caught her breath as she glanced upward just in time to see a vivid portrayal of Mount Vesuvius erupting. The scene unfolded like an IMAX movie on the inner surface of the dome. Unlike two thousand years ago, however, the explosive power of the volcano was unleashed solely toward Ercolano.
The devil took his time letting the scene unfold before he continued. “As you can plainly see, Amanda, the tremor that crushed Dr. Walker was more than just a quake. It is an omen of your death. In just a few minutes, Vesuvius will bury the town of Ercolano once again. Your creator is toying with you, my dear. He gives you a vision of hope, only to trap you alone in this chamber to be entombed forever.”
On the curvature of the dome overhead, Amanda could now see a tide of pumice and ash emerging from the mountain’s belching summit.
“You have much to live for, young lady,” he said, almost in a fatherly tone. “A very promising future in your profession waits. And think about Juan Carlos. God is going to let him die as well, if I don’t intervene. Your human companions will not rescue you in time. Only I can do that for you now!”
“How do I know what you are showing me isn’t just a conjuring trick?” Amanda asked, her voice cracking slightly.
“How do you know that Vesuvius is not erupting? Can you afford to take that chance? After all, Walker is surely dead—from an act of God, no less!”
Amanda was speechless, so the devil pounced again.
“I am compassionate, Amanda! I truly feel for the human beings on this earth. My gaze is always fixed on the future, not on the past.”
“What sort of future do I have pledging my soul to you?” she sputtered.
The devil’s voice softened further. “There is no need for melodrama. I have not done business that way since the Middle Ages. Our agreement will be simple. I will convey you out of the chamber to safety. In exchange for my aid, you will take your rightful place at the Getty and secure my tile under protective glass so that it can be seen, but not touched. And, of course, you will tell no one of your vision. It will be our secret.”
