The Decrypter: Secret of the Lost Manuscript (Calla Cress Techno Thriller Series: Book 1) (30 page)

His eyes narrowed.

In an instant, terror surfaced on his face.

A swift bullet shot through the double windows, aimed right at the contract papers Samuel held in his hands. 

“Get down!” The voice intuitively left Mason’s throat as he took a dive behind his armchair.

Samuel cowered on the floor in time to avoid the sizzling ammunition that struck the edge of a Rembrandt that hung over the fireplace.

Samuel’s bodyguards darted in from the hallway and ascended on Samuel in an effort to shield him from further attack. 

For a good minute, none spoke or inched a muscle.

Mason emerged from behind the armchair.  “What the—”

Two of his security people, as well as Mrs. Hawke scrambled in, all three clutching semi-automatic firearms.

“Go see who that was!” he said.

A beefy Ethiopian, part of Samuel’s security team, hauled him upward.  “Let’s go, Mr. Riche! You’re safer in your car.”

They dragged him out and within minutes, his Mercedes accelerated off the estate, leaving a ghastly tire mark on the front lawn.

“Imbeciles!” The remark left Mason’s lips in blurts. 

With one glance at the window, he spotted his discarded business proposal on the floor.

Unsigned.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DAY 9

5:20 P.M.

Via Di San Gregorio

Rome, Italy

Calla marched ahead of Jack with a focused gaze on the ethereal Colosseum ahead - the long-awaited destination of most pedestrians streaming alongside them.

“What makes you so sure, C?” Jack said, using his pet name for Calla.

  She turned around and faced him as he curiously questioned the quick flight they’d managed to get from Thessaloniki to Rome.

Calla spoke words of conviction.  “
Imperato Caesar Vespasi anus Augustus amphitheatrum novum ex manubìs ac.  fieri iussit.”

“Huh!  I’m an engineer not a linguist.  Help here?”

“That’s the ghost inscription on the Colosseum or at least as a few scholars have identified,” explained Calla.

Jack’s quizzical look resurfaced.  “Huh?” He shook his head. “By the way, when did Nash say he would join us?”

“He should be here soon. I’m not sure why he didn’t travel with us.”

“And here he is,” said a voice behind them.

Nash appeared alongside them.  “You forget that your phone has a great GPS tracking chip.”

She eyed Jack.  “Thanks to you.”

Nash took the manuscript and studied the symbols to which Calla had referred.  “I’ve heard about this, the fact that the construction of this Roman stadium may have been paid for partly with booty that Roman soldiers seized from the Temple in Jerusalem, nearly 2000 years ago.”

Calla repossessed the manuscript and glossed a finger over the words.  “Correct.  Allegra’s notes say the manuscript could be about 2000 years old.  The second dominance is linked to an event two thousand years ago.  The clue is here.”

Calla secured the manuscript in her shoulder bag.  “We misinterpreted the translation and ended up on a detour to Pella.” 

Even as she spoke, she challenged her own statement.
Was it really a detour? What about the Gypsy woman?

She proceeded towards the lines that had formed outside the dramatic landmark, eager to proceed into the ancient stadium. 

Rome was serene, a city where contemporary met ancient and neither felt out of place.  Calla thought back to a time in her teens when she first came to Rome, starry-eyed at every monument, ruin and museum she visited.  Her love for history had been sparked then and continued to this day.  She would always return to Rome, but these wouldn’t have been her chosen circumstances.

“We need to find a quicker way in.  The Colosseum will be closing soon,” Jack said. 

Nash glimpsed at Calla.  “Didn’t the Roman Empire reach its largest size under Trajan?”

Calla grinned, glad she had at least one member on board.  “There was this one article in National Geographic.  Let me see.  I think I have it here.”

The queue moved smoothly ahead. Calla took a step forward and found the magazine clipping in her bag.  “National Geographic
describes the legacy of the Roman Empire in this article.”  She ran her fingers over a passage she’d highlighted.  “Rome’s influence is enduring.  It continues to affect much of modern life like language, literature, government, architecture, medicine, engineering, sports and even the arts.  There’s so much we owe to Rome.  For one thing, many of the words I’ve just used have their roots in Latin.”

“Impressive,” Jack said. “But, still lost as to why we’re here.”

“Two thousand years ago, world dominance was based in Rome.  That’s why we need to be here.  I found a hidden footnote in the manuscript.  It says that the path we need to tread is the same as that of the gladiators, almost two thousand years ago,” Calla added.

Jack gawked at the Colosseum’s monumental pillars and stones.  “Why?”

Calla caught up with him.  “Because the Colosseum was opened in 80a.d. under Vespasian’s son and successor, Titus.  The reason we’re in Rome is that as an emperor, Trajan’s reputation survived nineteen centuries, more than any other ruler.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “And?”

“The display of the city’s power was played out in the Colosseum,” Nash added.

She stared up at the height of the monumental stadium.  “When I visited as a teenager, I remembered that the gladiators displayed one of the greatest tests of courage in history, in the most powerful nation at the time.”

Nash leaned against the stones waiting behind the other tourists.  He nodded in agreement.  “Power and influence can’t be had without courage.”

Calla’s eyes caught his. He’d withdrawn a little yet she now wondered if it had to do with her own disengagement.   She turned forward and advanced with the moving line.
 After all the months we've known each other, why now?

Seven o’clock was the time of the last admittance into the Colosseum.  When they finally made it to the ticket counter at 6:45P.M, Calla paid for three tickets and they trailed behind the stream of visitors.  They traipsed through one of the eight arched entrances and ambled through the inner corridors. 

Calla focused ahead and caught her breath in the stadium’s inner court that once entertained up to 55,000 spectators.  She had to agree with the guidebook: despite being damaged over the centuries, the amphitheater was still extraordinary in stature and architecture.

They continued through the large terraced podium.  Calla considered how many emperors and wealthy families had taken their places here, looking down their noses at average commoners.

It was nearing 6:55P.M.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Colosseum will be shutting its doors, please proceed to the main exit.  We hope you’ve enjoyed your visit today.”

The PA message was repeated in four languages. As the trio half listened to the announcement, they observed hordes of thwarted visitors making their way to the exit.

“Okay guys,” Calla said. “We’re staying.”

With the sun already descending, the lights had been switched on, giving the Colosseum its opulent glow.  They plodded on behind the others. 

Nash spotted a secluded room in the lower galleries, a few feet from the ticket counter, and alerted the others. 

Proceeding with stealthy movements, they halted next to the locked door. He fished out a navigator lock-scope and picked the lock. 

The lights were off. Nash drew out a pocket torch from his combat pants and switched it on. Peering into the room, he gave the all clear.  They stole inside and searched for a spot to crouch. 

Calla and Nash located a half wall at the far end of the room and hunched behind it, while Jack stooped behind an old wooden desk.

“What is this room?” Jack whispered.

“Must be an unfrequented storeroom of some sort.  I read on the maintenance sheet that this room is closed from 6:30P.M.  With any luck, we’ll not be disturbed,” Nash said.

Calla tried to get comfortable as she hunkered down on the frigid stone beside Nash.

Even in the dark room, he caught her eyes.  In the subdued light of his flashlight, her pupils had dilated.  “We should wait an hour or so,” he said.

His face was inches from hers within the minuscule space.  She hoped he wouldn’t hear the awakened pounding of her heart.  With his nearness, she feared it would prance into a race.

Thirty minutes later, the ancient site fell silent, signifying the visitors’ departure.  The night staff hustled back and forth. The noise continued for several minutes until a static silence seized the air.

Calla checked the time on her smart phone, it was approaching 7:45P.M. She searched for the architectural application she’d downloaded, a building plan of the Colosseum, including a classified surveillance schedule. “There may be a night guard, so we need to tread carefully,” she said.

“Hey you two! How much longer?  My neck is killing me!” Jack said as he cowered behind the stale, wooden table.

“Any minute now,” Nash responded.

Light from the smart phone illuminated Calla’s face as she spoke.  “When I was here as a teenager, on a school trip, there was a man, a guide I think.  He took us around and showed us an underground room.  It looked more like a cage where the gladiators waited before they went onto the grounds.”

Nash listened intently, a tone of melancholy ringing in Calla’s voice, each time she dug up the past.

She swallowed hard.  “There was a frame, which I thought was a door. It stood directly opposite the opening of the grated iron.  I remember asking our guide, in broken Italian then, what it was for.  He seemed quite taken aback that this frame that resembled a door had been discovered.  I don’t think he intended it to be seen.”

“What did the door look like?” Jack asked.

“Like an arched entryway. He told me that nobody could see it.  I thought he was mad.  To me, the door was plain as day.  Anyway, later I found out that none of the other girls had seen it.”

“Did you ever find out what it was?” Nash said.

“Actually, I’d forgotten about it until now.”

Calla shifted a little as her foot went to sleep.  As she tried to stretch it out, it collided with Nash’s thigh.  He took her left foot and let it rest awhile on his lap. 

Relieved from the stinging of pins and needles, Calla leaned back against the wall, embarrassed at the position of her leg.  “No. He quickly told our class that it was nothing. Just a wrongly constructed door that led nowhere.  He must have seen that the other girls were teasing. Somehow, I didn’t believe him then.” She pored into his attentive eyes. “And I don't believe him now. That door may be exactly what we’re looking for.”

“Let me see your blueprint,” Nash said.

She zoomed in on her mini screen.

He pointed to a corner on her image.  “According to this, we would need to enter via this complex of rooms by this wall.  The blueprint does not show the door either.  But there may be a better way to see this.  Once we get there, I’ll use this. He pulled a cable-like, metal coil from his slim backpack. It resembled a shower cord - only much thinner in diameter.  “If we find an opening in the room, this camera will penetrate, or even x-ray through the walls.”

Calla examined the camera, brushing his fingers slightly.  “That’s impressive.”

Her eyes widened when she saw Jack shoot up.  “Jack, get down! Not yet.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I think we can go now.”

They exchanged a grin.  “Okay,” Nash said.  “I’ll lead the way.”

They moved towards the door.

Nash placed his ear against the door frame.

Jack massaged the back of his neck, hopping with a leg cramp.  “Surely if someone was going to hide valuable rocks, they would not pick a tourist place that is constantly under surveillance.”

Calla laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder.  “Yes, Jack, but two thousand years ago, this was not a historical monument, but a place of trade, business, sport, entertainment and a meeting place for some of the most influential people in history.  Think of it as…Times Square.”

She crept closer to the door as Nash inched it open.

“All clear.  From now on, not a sound,” said Nash.

He listened and selected their next position before leading them prowling out of the room. They followed the global positioning system on Calla’s phone, and when they’d swept twenty meters, Nash raised his right hand to signal movement. 

Lights from the arched domes of the exterior walls provided enough illumination for the main courts and walkways.  Nash searched for a concealed route as they crept over cobbled tiles and through dark passageways. Soon, he came to a halt at what he believed was the corridor leading to the room Calla had described.  “Jack, can you link up to the satellite?  We need to know where the security cameras and the alarms are.”