Wayward Son

by Tom Pollack

  Amanda gazed at the priceless exhibits in the observatory, a look that was not lost on the devil.

  “I will even arrange for you to take custody of most of the artifacts in this chamber,” he added.

  “I’ve already made it clear that I am not willing to negotiate,” rebuffed Amanda, but with a tone that revealed more reservation than confidence.

  The devil sensed an opening. “All right—cooperate, and I will also save Juan Carlos. After all, he had no idea what he was getting into here, did he? And think of the nights that await you in his loving embrace!”

  As Amanda’s hesitation continued, he added grandly, “Remember what I told you at Villa Colosseum. Those days in Rome must have been a great time to be alive, if you were not the sacrifice. Would you be God’s sacrifice now? Should Juan Carlos become the innocent victim of your heroics?”

  Amanda’s anxiety mounted as she saw the avalanche of lava barreling down the mountain slope, smashing through the outskirts of Ercolano. Her chance of escape was practically zero if Vesuvius had erupted. Even the observatory’s drain, which might connect to a seaside culvert, would probably be impassable. There was nothing on earth that could spare Juan Carlos from the pyroclastic swath, and she would never be able to tell Cain’s story to anyone from the grave.

  Her mind clouded with doubt. If she allowed the devil to save her, perhaps she could later figure out a way to work around this deal. Or was this the devil’s way of getting his evil talons into her, like the orphan back in Chicago?

  “It gets even more gruesome. Listen!” the muralist proclaimed with a hint of glee.

  She could now hear the deafening sound of the death wave crushing hundreds of structures. She saw crowds of men, women, and children running down the streets, screaming in terror before the superheated volcanic flow enveloped them.

  “You evil little troll! You delight in human suffering. I hate you!” Amanda retorted, wiping back tears for the victims of Vesuvius’s wrath.

  “Don’t hate me. I didn’t cause the volcano to erupt. Hate the God who is responsible for this slaughter.”

  Amanda closed her eyes. Precious seconds passed as the devil silenced the noise of the approaching avalanche. The only sound that could now be heard was the tapping of his well-worn Bruno Magli loafer against the stone floor as he awaited the young archaeologist’s next move.

  Just then, a loud squeak echoed through the chamber. The devil’s neck twitched slightly as he scanned for the sound’s origin.

  Amanda did not notice the devil’s surprise because her attention was diverted to an odd motion in front of her. Layers of mud began to flake off the mummified body of Cain. The metal wheel in his hands jerked slightly in one direction and then the other.

  Was he coming back to life? Would Cain be her rescuer?

  “Cat got your tongue?” the devil asked sweetly, trying to seem as if he was still in control despite this strange development.

  Amanda gulped.

  The devil continued, fresh confidence filling his voice as he pointed his index finger upward to the dome.

  “Because you defy me, young lady, the oculus will now open, and you risk the same fate as that coward buried next to you. In a few seconds, boiling lava will spiral down into this chamber, bringing you, and all these knickknacks, to a fiery doom!” The devil punctuated his prediction with a demented howl of laughter.

  The wheel stopped and started, and then began to turn steadily in one direction. Flashbacks from her vision flooded her mind. Amanda had witnessed Cain’s heroic end, and now she questioned how she would face her own death.

  “This is your last chance,” the devil declared. “Agree to my terms and I will stop the wheel before the counterweights open the oculus fully. I can still save you, and your lover Johnny. But know this: I will slay Juan Carlos in a most unfair manner if you renege on our deal.”

  Amanda desperately considered her options. Was the devil lying, or was this really her last chance? Or was this all a test of faith? She stared once again at the dome as the annihilation of the city continued to play out overhead.

  The devil spoke a final time. “As you can see, my dear, Vesuvius has no more patience for this amusing chitchat. Nor, at this particular moment, do I. Make your decision.”

  “Now!”

  Epilogue

  Amalfi Coast, Italy

  Seven Hours Later

  SPEEDING ALONG THE ELEVATED highway above the picturesque Amalfi coastline, the Alfa Romeo 8C Spider negotiated the last few hairpin curves on the SS163 before reaching the small resort town of Praiano. Sunday evening traffic was almost nonexistent.

  “We just blew right by the hotel!” Juan Carlos shouted over the roar of the wind and the four hundred horses thundering under the hood.

  Downshifting the silky-smooth transmission, Amanda braked hard and swung the red convertible into a sharp U-turn, bringing the Spider to a dead stop in front of the Tramanto d’Oro. A quaint but upscale hotel, it was popular with high-end travelers from all over the world.

  “Take good care of this bambino,” she said with a broad grin, tossing the keys high in the air toward the wide-eyed valet attendants, who tried to outjump each other for the chance to park the exotic roadster.

  Stepping out of the passenger side, Juan Carlos could smell the brake pads still sizzling from their seventy-kilometer sprint along one of Italy’s windiest highways. Offering his arm to Amanda, who was shaking out and straightening her windblown hair, he exclaimed, “Chica mia! That was some driving!”

  “Gracias, Señor, for letting me pilot your rocket ship,” she replied. “After what we’ve been through today, I sure needed a release.”

  “You’ve come a long way from that motor scooter,” he joked.

  Taking his arm, she added, “Sorry I wasn’t very talkative on the drive down here. I had a lot on my mind.”

  “I understand,” he said, before looking at his watch. “Hey, there’s plenty of time to catch the sunset before dinner. Let’s make our way to the balcony.”

  As the two glided through the bright but understated lobby, Amanda brought them to a pause in front of a glass enclosure showcasing three Renaissance-era ship models.

  “Johnny, just imagine the adventures those sailors must have had,” she mused, her thoughts filled with vivid memories of the Nostos and its high sea adventures.

  Eyeballing the Spanish galleons, Juan Carlos replied, “I think you’ll prefer the menu here to the fish sauce and dried bread served up on those old-world sailing ships.”

  Amanda laughed, “You’re right, and thanks for suggesting our little getaway. This place is great!”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. Wait till we get outside.”

  Reaching the terrace, with its spectacular panorama of the coastline, they sat down next to each other at a table alongside the wrought iron railing. Other well-dressed couples were scattered about the patio enjoying the last rays of the crimson sun as it dropped toward the horizon.

  “You weren’t kidding!” Amanda exclaimed. She took in a deep breath of fresh sea air and glanced down toward the crashing waves some hundred meters below.

  “Now you know why I wanted us to get out of Ercolano,” Juan Carlos said. “The whole town smelled like sulfur from those fumaroles on Vesuvius.”

  Amanda just nodded, wondering if that was all he had in mind in proposing this particular destination.

  Greeted promptly by a waiter, Juan Carlos ordered two glasses of Brunello di Montalcino. Quietly, they took in the breathtaking views along the peninsula and toward the sailboats and megayachts that were wending to and from the island of Capri in the distance. Amanda remembered Cain sailing by this beautiful little paradise many times, as it marked the final approach to Herculaneum from Carthage and Judaea.

  While they waited for their drinks, she twirled the ends of her blond hair around her index finger and stared at the sea, lost in thought. Why her? Amanda felt so spiritually ill-equipped for what just happened. She had
n’t set foot in a church in seven years, and her knowledge of the Bible came almost solely from her profession. Now, however, she wasn’t the same person who went through those bronze portals to the past—or was she? Shifting her gaze back to Johnny, she wondered if she could ever tell him about her vision.

  Then a wild thought crossed her mind—the tile was in her purse!

  Juan Carlos broke the silence. With a gleam in his eye, he reached into his jacket pocket and produced two small cigars.

  “Time to make good on your promise from last night,” he said. “You deciphered the combination lock on the chamber doors in no time. I say we celebrate your success.”

  The look in Amanda’s eyes did not match her pearly smile as she accepted the Romeo y Julieta Petit Princess from him.

  “After what happened to Dr. Walker today, it doesn’t feel right to be celebrating…”

  “I understand,” he sighed as their wine arrived. Amanda noticed the waiter’s lapel badge bore the name Farzad, along with his hometown of Tehran. After a swirl and a perfunctory taste, Juan Carlos nodded his head to signify his acceptance of the vintage. Once the wine was poured, he raised his glass. “A simple toast, then, to honor his life. To Dr. Archibald Walker.” The couple clinked their glasses in silent remembrance of the Getty’s mercurial department head.

  Drawing up her courage, but then pausing for a second, Amanda reached into her purse and retrieved a small object. Holding it tightly in her hand, she extended it toward Juan Carlos.

  “I have something very important to give you,” she said mysteriously, and then she opened her palm.

  “Ah—my favorite lighter! Thanks for taking care of it.”

  “Well, to be honest, I dropped it in the observatory. I remembered it when you lowered the rope through the oculus to pull me out. Hopefully there’s no damage.”

  “Not a scratch,” Juan Carlos smiled as he pinged the lid open. Amanda leaned toward him and cupped his hand gently as the flame caught the tip of her cigar.

  “Whew!” she said with a wrinkle of her nose after puffing the slender corona to life. “I haven’t done this since college.”

  “Chica mia, I brought you a mild one. You’ll be just fine.”

  Their hands drifted together across the table, and the two leaned back and savored the beauty of the Amalfi Coast as the sun’s rays gilded the Tyrrhenian Sea.

  Amanda’s thoughts once again drifted to the tile. Although tempted, she couldn’t take the chance of showing Johnny the ancient pendant. Besides, without Cain’s personal scrolls, no rational person would believe the story of her vision. She needed more time to work out a plan.

  “…and that is how Cardinal Ravatti ended up at the site,” Juan Carlos said. He had just finished retelling some of the day’s events and turned to see her reaction.

  There was none. She hadn’t heard a word.

  “Amanda?”

  She stirred. “Oh yes, the sunset.” Amanda yawned while she stretched her arms and arched her back ever so slightly. Curling her long fingers around her wine glass, she took a sip and politely gestured toward the west.

  “Hey, Johnny. Maybe there will be a green flash this evening. It sure looks clear enough.”

  “Uh—a green what?” he queried, now thoroughly confused.

  “It’s astonishing! The top of the sun gains a phosphorescent crown of green light just as it dips below the horizon—but only for a few seconds.”

  “That would be great,” he replied gracefully. “I’ve never seen one.”

  “Really? I’ve seen hundreds of…”

  Amanda stopped herself midsentence, realizing she was confusing scenes from the vision with her real-life experiences.

  Juan Carlos gave her a curious look, and then he chuckled, “Sometimes I can’t tell whether you’re joking or being serious!”

  She gave him a coy smile, deciding to change the subject.

  “Tell me something, Johnny. How did you find the top of the dome?”

  “It wasn’t much of a problem. We had the GPS coordinates from the robot’s last position in the crack, so I was able to extrapolate from that point to the approximate center of the underground chamber.”

  “Wait—to do that you had to know the exact size and shape of the chamber!”

  “You’re right, and I did! It turns out that Silvio had a picture of a first-century fresco that he found in a nearby dig site a few years ago. It showed a Roman couple standing in front of the doors of the circular observatory. From their height, I could estimate the relative dimensions of the overall structure.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened a fraction as she sipped her wine.

  “I’d love to see that picture sometime,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Sure, I’ll ask Silvio to show it to you. Anyway, when the earthquake hit, I moved as fast as I could. My handheld GPS unit guided me pretty close to the apex of the dome. What I didn’t expect was that Carmelo had gotten there ahead of me!”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “He told me that Silvio sent him in case Walker couldn’t open the doors. I was relieved to see that he had already cleared away most of the soil covering the top of the dome. By the time I arrived, there was only a thin layer to scrape off. Imagine that—the height of the observatory was just about equal to the avalanche Vesuvius put out two thousand years ago!”

  Lost in reflection about how little the scene outside the observatory resembled the devil’s fantastic picture show on the dome, Amanda simply smiled in acknowledgment.

  Juan Carlos continued, “Carmelo had a pry bar and was pushing as hard as he could on the ridge of one of the interlocking plates that formed the oculus, but they barely budged. I looked around and found a service hole that directly accessed the gears for the mechanism. We leaned into the pry bar, slamming it back and forth until finally the whole oculus just spiraled open on its own. Whoever built that observatory must have been some engineer!”

  If only he knew, Amanda thought. The magnificently designed repository and its contents were the product of one of the greatest artists and engineers of all time.

  Then she chimed in. “From down below it was the scariest thing. In the dim candlelight, it looked as if the corpse were coming to life and turning the wheel that opened the oculus!”

  “Amazing how the mind plays tricks on you,” Juan Carlos offered, hoping to quell Amanda’s obvious concern.

  Nodding her head and taking a deep breath, she asked, “What do you think will happen now with the observatory?”

  “Well, I spoke with Silvio earlier before we left this evening. He was still with the Polizia di Stato having to justify the excavation beneath private property. He thinks the whole thing will turn into a huge fight between Renard Enterprises and the local property owner. Apparently, the owner became aware of the discovery and is trying to stop escrow from closing. Either way, whoever wins that round is still going to have to deal with Cardinal Ravatti and the Pontifical Commission. Silvio thinks it could be years before anyone is allowed to excavate.”

  “That would be terrible,” blurted Amanda. She had not counted on that news.

  Just then, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sea breeze picked up. Amanda, who was wearing only a light dress, caught the eye of Farzad and motioned to the attentive waiter. She politely requested that he bring one of the hotel’s propane heaters over to their table, and he left quickly to comply.

  Juan Carlos looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. “What did you just say to the waiter?”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I’m getting a little chilled, so I asked him to wheel over a heater.” She took a tiny puff on her cigar as she finished her explanation.

  “In Persian?”

  Amanda caught her breath and almost gagged on the smoke she’d accidentally inhaled. Stifling the urge to cough, she realized she had just spoken fluently in a foreign language she’d never studied—at least until that morning! At a loss to explain, she hoped her momentary discomfort would dive
rt Johnny’s attention.

  Perplexed, but ever the gentleman, Juan Carlos rose from his chair and removed his jacket, placing it gently over her shoulders. Amanda stood up, and as they embraced she melted into his chest. Gradually, she regained her composure.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’m not exactly myself. It’s been a long day.”

  “It’s okay, chica mia. You were alone in the dark for a long time. Anyone would be shaken up.”

  She squeezed Juan Carlos even harder, longing to share with him all she had been through. What he had just said echoed in her mind: “Alone in the dark.” Regardless of what her future held, Amanda knew one thing.

  There was no way she was going to face it by herself.

  Drawing back slightly from her rescuer, Amanda offered him her lips. Juan Carlos’s response told her everything she needed to know. After a passionate kiss, she took both of his hands in hers and looked deeply into his eyes.

  “Johnny, I’m still puzzled about what happened to me this morning. But I know one thing for sure: I must get back into that chamber!”

  ***

  Meanwhile, in Rome, two men were climbing up a dark stairwell.

  “Five stories and no elevator!” grumbled Luc Renard, as he and his bodyguard began the final flight of stairs in the dank, decaying apartment building. It was located just off of the Via della Conciliazione, the main artery leading from the Tiber River to St. Peter’s Square.

  “May I offer some assistance, sir?” the bodyguard inquired as he saw Renard clutch his side in pain. Both men were perspiring profusely, even though sunset was imminent.

  “Don’t worry, Enzo. I’ll make it on my own. This isn’t my first visit here, you know.”