No Place Like Rome Read online

  I followed Basia back to the suite. At least Slash had been right about one thing. Whether we wanted to or not, we needed to get some sleep. We had no idea what we’d find at the cemetery tomorrow and our brains needed to be fresh and ready for anything—dead or alive.

  Chapter Twelve

  The drive to Vaprio d’Adda took just over six hours. Slash’s sedan was large for a car in Italy, but with six of us, it was a tight squeeze. Basia volunteered to sit in the middle of the front seat between Slash and Tito. It didn’t escape my notice that it prevented Slash and I from sitting in close proximity. Not that there was anything planned with a full crowd of people. Still, I squeezed in the back between the twins.

  I was kept from being too cranky by the fact that Slash, Elvis, Xavier and I had successfully hacked into Rutgon’s accounts earlier in the morning. Between the four of us, we discovered six accounts scattered across the world. Two of them had recent deposits of nine million euros. Can anyone say ‘bingo?’

  In the meantime, Basia and Tito had compiled everything they could find on Francesco Melzi, his background, paintings, painting techniques, and connection to Leonardo da Vinci. Since we were headed to the city where he was most famous, it made sense to accumulate what knowledge we could. Tito told us about the speculation that da Vinci and Melzi were lovers and that was why Melzi had been named executor of his estate. What, if anything, that had to do with the painting and why we were headed to Vaprio d’Adda, we didn’t know.

  We still didn’t understand how it all played out with Maisto either. Tito reported they were at the cutting edge of pharmaceutical medical research with several major research studies underway for a couple of promising drugs to help patients with Multiple Sclerosis, Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy and Parkinson’s Disease. They seemed legit and we didn’t have a clue why or how they’d be mixed up with a guy like Rutgon.

  For now.

  We stopped twice during our trip. Once for a bathroom break and once for dinner to go. Slash conducted some evasive maneuvers to make sure we weren’t being followed, but I didn’t see how it was possible to know if we were or not. When we finally arrived at the small cemetery, it was almost dark. We parked in the empty parking lot. Tito and Slash unpacked our gear and we each got a flashlight and turned it on. We had all dressed in the oldest clothes we had with us. I’d worn a light windbreaker and the jeans I had on when the perfume disaster had occurred at Nonna’s. I wished I hadn’t, because I’d smelled up the car for the whole trip. I’d also discovered the perfume bottle was still in my pocket. My worst fear was someone would sit on my lap or drop something heavy on me and then we’d all have to suffer anew. I thought about dumping it in the trash at one of our stops, but what if Nonna asked for it back?

  Thankfully, everyone was too polite to keep mentioning the smell after the first round of gagging, but I wished I’d thought to rinse my pants in the hotel sink or send them to the hotel valet for washing.

  Elvis had the GPS into which he’d entered the exact coordinates from the painting, so we let him lead the way. We passed through an ancient cast iron gate and onto a rocky dirt path. I was kind of sorry we weren’t seeing the cemetery in the day, because it looked fascinating. Night had fallen quickly, but the light of the nearly full moon helped illuminate the area and cast a luminescent glow over the headstones. They gave off an eerie glint as we passed. Basia drew in a breath more than once before moving closer to Xavier as we walked by a pair of fierce stone creatures standing sentinel at a tomb. A few steps later, another headstone caught my eye because of its unusual shape and size. I paused and shined my flashlight beam over it.

  “Jeez. Is that supposed to be an angel or a gargoyle?”

  Tito stepped up beside me and tried to read the headstone. It was largely illegible. “I suppose it would depend on who’s buried here, yah? It’s too old. I can’t read the inscription.”

  Xavier looked over my shoulder. “Acid weathering will render it unreadable. However, if it’s intended to be a celestial being, it’s not a very peaceful representation of heavenly pursuits.”

  “No kidding.”

  We continued on, passing graves with enormous stone crosses and strange-looking obelisks. Elvis spoke.

  “‘There the traveller meets aghast,

  Sheeted Memories of the past—

  Shrouded forms that start and sigh,

  As they pass the wanderer by—

  White-robed forms of friends long given,

  In agony to Earth—and Heaven.’”

  “Dude.” I was impressed. “Edgar Allen Poe?”

  “Yes. His poem ‘Dreamland’.”

  We went a few more yards when Elvis abruptly stopped near a large raised sarcophagus as the GPS beeped.

  “X marks the spot, team.”

  Two stone angels leaned over the sarcophagus on either side, appearing to guard it.

  “Who’s buried here?” I asked.

  Slash held a small battery-operated lantern close to the headstone. “It says Volante Melzi, 1475-1523.”

  Basia stepped up next to me. “That would be Francesco Melzi’s mother.”

  Slash knelt next by the headstone. “Interesting. When was Melzi born?”

  “1491.”

  “The dates would fit. She would have borne him when she was sixteen.”

  “There are empty spaces on the tomb, but no other names,” I observed.

  “Si. A family crypt but only one member of the family buried here. Odd. Basia, was there any mention of Melzi’s father or any siblings?”

  “None. Not a single mention of either.”

  Tito leaned against the sarcophagus. “I wonder why the mom wasn’t buried with her son. Isn’t his tomb a few kilometers away?”

  Basia peered at one of the angels. “Yes. He’s buried on his estate.”

  “Well, maybe he and his mom didn’t get along.” I shrugged. “It’s not so farfetched. He left Mom here and got his own tomb in which he encased himself and his own immediate family.”

  “I still think it’s odd.” Slash straightened. “Let’s take a closer look at this crypt.”

  We shone our flashlights over the structure. Behind the sarcophagus was a marble wall flanked by two Romanesque columns that held up a small triangular stone roof. A stone cherub sat at the foot of one of the pillars, gazing up at a small alcove built into the wall. There were deep nicks in the wall and some writing that was nearly illegible.

  “Over here,” I said, pointing to the alcove. “There’s something written here in Italian, I think.”

  Basia read the words aloud and then translated. “Tutte le nostre conoscenze ha le sue origini nella nostra percezione. All our knowledge has its origins in our perceptions.”

  Slash came and stood next to me. “Leonardo da Vinci.”

  I nodded. “Yes. It makes sense. They were friends, teacher and pupil, lovers or whatever.”

  Basia linked her arm with mine. “Well, they were close enough that Da Vinci made Melzi the executor of his considerable estate.”

  Tito tapped on the inscription. “So, is the quote significant to what we’re looking for?”

  “Technically, we don’t know what we’re looking for.” I wound my ponytail around my finger in a nervous gesture. “We’re looking for a clue. Something that has to do with the painting. I think.”

  Slash strode over to the sarcophagus, patted the lid. “We need to get a look inside.”

  Basia took a step back. “
God, I knew you were going to say that.”

  Tito tried to push the lid but it didn’t budge.

  I shined my flashlight along the seam. “It’s a solid piece of stone. It’s not two pieces as in lid and bottom. It’s all one piece. There is no way to open it.”

  Xavier frowned. “That can’t be good.”

  Both Tito and Slash independently inspected the lid, finally concurring with me.

  Slash shoved his hand through his hair. “There has to be an opening somewhere.”

  Basia looked relieved. “Maybe this tomb was intended for one person. Put her in, seal her up, end of story. No opening needed. Ever.”

  Slash wasn’t buying it. He strode over to the cherub statue. “This is located in an odd spot. Perhaps it is a catalyst of some kind.” He pressed against the statue starting with the head and working his way down.

  Elvis got on his hands and knees and started crawling along the base of the sarcophagus, shining his flashlight along the spot where the stone met the ground. Xavier, Basia and Tito began examining the crypt wall inch by inch for any kind of clue.

  There was nothing else for me to look at, so I climbed on top of the sarcophagus and began shining my flashlight along the lid, feeling every crevice with my fingers. It was a big sarcophagus and the going was slow and painstaking. After several minutes, Tito came to stand beside me.

  “How’s it going, Lexi?” He put a hand on the cold stone. “Need some help?”

  I didn’t have a chance to answer because Elvis yelled, “I found something.”

  Suddenly the night was split by the sound of rock grinding against rock and a thudding snap. The sarcophagus wobbled beneath me and then opened. I started to fall, so I screamed and reached out at the thing nearest to me...Tito. My fingers closed around his thick T-shirt and a sickening rip sounded as I fell a good three meters and landed on watery ground right on my butt with a jarring thump. I still held Tito’s ripped shirt in my hand.

  “Lexi!”

  Everyone started shouting, but it took me a minute to catch the breath that had been knocked out of me. “Relax. I’m okay.”

  I wiggled all of my extremities and nothing appeared broken, however my rump was sore. I immediately shoved my hand into my pocket to find with relief that the perfume Nonna had given me was also still intact. Thank God. I could manage a sore bum, but not if I reeked like a field of white gardenias.

  I rubbed my rear as I looked up into the shining light at the top of the hole. “What happened?”

  Basia’s face appeared. “Elvis found a switch or something. It opened a trap door on top of the sarcophagus right where you were sitting.”

  “Jeez. Tell Tito I’m sorry. I have his shirt. Unfortunately, it’s a complete loss.”

  “It’s okay. Actually, he’s excellent eye-candy without a shirt on, but it is a little chilly. We explained to him that you have this habit of stripping clothes off of men.”

  “What?” Heat crept up the back of my neck. “I do not.”

  “Do too.” She laughed. “Just ask Elvis.”

  I was glad it was dark so no one could see my red face as I remembered my first awkward encounter with Elvis at the beach. “Just throw me down a flashlight. I must have dropped mine.”

  A flashlight came hurtling down and landed with a wet thud a few feet away. I picked it up and to my relief it turned on. Its yellow glow shone feebly in the light.

  “See anything?” Elvis called down.

  I swept the beam around. “Thankfully I don’t see Melzi’s mother. At least not yet, anyway.” I wasn’t necessarily squeamish, but being surrounded by bones or skeletons in the dark might freak me out.

  “It’s also pretty damp down here. Okay, so someone explain this to me. If that opening is the entrance to the crypt, how did they get the bones or a coffin down here?”

  Tito answered. “They must have lowered it down with something. Ropes probably.”

  “You’d think they’d build some stairs.”

  Basia snorted. “What the hell would be the purpose? Lower the body into the crypt. Close it up. Forever. If you go in there, you’re not coming out.”

  “Good point, which begs the question, ‘Why is there a tunnel here?’” I stepped closer to the opening, swinging the beam of my flashlight around it.

  “There’s a tunnel?” Slash’s voice sounded excited.

  “Yeah, but it’s small. Crawl-worthy only. Hands-and-knees height. I’ll check it out.”

  “You will not, cara. Not without me.” In seconds Slash appeared in the entrance with a rope tied around his waist. He instructed Tito to hold it and he slid down. He untied the rope and tugged it once. It slithered back up to the top and disappeared.

  Slash came over to me, pulled me into his chest. “You took ten years off my life, disappearing into the sarcophagus like that.”

  “I assure you, it was unplanned.”

  He cupped my cheek with his hand and I thought he was going to kiss me when Elvis appeared at the opening.

  “I’m going, too.” He began tying the rope around his waist.

  Xavier protested. “Dude, you’re claustrophobic.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Slash released me and began examining the tunnel by the beam of his flashlight.

  A minute later Elvis landed in the crypt, his shoes sucking into the muddy ground as he took a step toward me. “You sure you okay, Lexi? I feel responsible. I had no idea the switch would open a trapdoor on top of the sarcophagus.”

  “Of course, you didn’t.”

  “Nothing broken?”

  “Nope. Just shook up. Literally and figuratively.”

  Slash straightened, calling up to the others. “Lower down the lantern. The rest of you stay there until we know what’s going on. Or if we don’t come back.”

  I glanced at Slash, not liking how that sounded. I hoped he was kidding, but his face was shrouded in the shadows.

  Tito appeared at the entrance. “Agreed. I’ll be needed to pull you all up.” He lowered the lantern and Elvis got it.

  “Be careful, Lexi.” Basia peered into the hole. “You’re crawling around in a crypt, for God’s sake.”

  “Gee, thanks for the gruesome reminder, Basia. Sure you don’t want to come?”

  Slash knelt on his hands and knees at the tunnel entrance. “The fewer people in here, the better. Let’s go take a look at what we’ve got.”

  Just like that, he and his light disappeared into the tunnel. Elvis motioned to me to go next, so I took a deep breath and followed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’m not claustrophobic like Elvis, but I’ll admit I did not like crawling around in a crypt tunnel, especially when I had no idea where I was headed. There was some comfort in the fact that I had two guys on either side of me, ready to pull me in one direction or the other, if things got hairy. Also, I was eternally thankful that Slash went first, most likely destroying any spider webs or scaring away any potentially crawly creatures that would be in the way. I tried not to think about it.

  The tunnel was small and it was a good thing none of us had a lot of fat on us, because that would have been significantly problematic. The tunnel itself was dry, but the mold and musty smell was strong. I breathed through my mouth, trying to calm my racing heart and pretending that I was on a grand adventure that didn’t involve potential dead bodies, ghosts, or assorted creepy bugs. I could hear both Slash and Elvis breathing hard. The cacophony of sound somehow comforted me. I’m sure I would have freaked out within minutes i
f I’d been crawling around alone.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Slash muttered an oath and then he called back that there was a small drop-off ahead. I carefully crawled a few feet more and saw Slash’s hand extending to me. I took it and he pulled me out of the tunnel and into a small cavern. I stood, my knees aching from the crawl. My ponytail was plastered to the back of my neck and I realized I’d been sweating. I couldn’t tell if it were from fear or exertion. Moments later, Slash pulled Elvis out of the tunnel. His face was deathly pale and I imagined crawling in the tunnel and keeping a handle on his claustrophobia had taken its toll on him. I wished I could do something to help, but here we were, stuck in claustrophobic hell.

  I glanced around. “Where are we?”

  Slash held up the lantern. We stood in a cavern approximately ten meters high and six meters wide. There was no discernible exit. More importantly, it had no body, coffin, urn or evidence that Melzi’s mother had been buried here.

  I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand. “Jeez. This is just weird.”

  “There has to be access to the outside.” Elvis shined his flashlight across the rock ceiling. “A small access hole, at the least. There is air in here. But it will be impossible to detect the source at night.”

  I scanned the ceiling with my flashlight beam, too, but Elvis was right. It would be impossible to pinpoint the source without light.

  Slash was examining the walls with the light of the lantern. “There’s writing over here, too.”

  I stood next to him, adding my beam to his. “It looks like hieroglyphics.”

  Elvis stood on the other side of Slash. “Egyptian, by the looks of it.”

  I frowned. “Why in the world would there be ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics in an Italian crypt?”

  Slash ran his fingers over the drawings. “This is not ancient. But it is old. I suspect it was drawn at the same time the crypt was constructed. It must be significant.”