The Stolen Da Vinci Manuscripts

~~~

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. The characters,
incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and
are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published in the United States by Joshua Elliot
James

Published 2014

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About the Author

EPISODE 1: THE STOLEN DA VINCI MANUSCRIPTS & DEATH
IN GENEVA

1: The Mysterious Letter

2: Visit To London

3: The Mysterious Man From Rome

4: Late Night Detective Work

5: Back On Track

6: The Tango Competition

7: The Suspects

8: Murder In Geneva

9: Panama And One Purple Bag

10: Back To Rome Meeting The
Traitor

11: Retrieving Valuable Manuscripts

EPISODE 2: THE STOLEN DA VINCI MANUSCRIPTS & MURDER
IN SPAIN

1: Singapore

2: Calling In Favors

3: The Millionaire

4: Confusion

5: Facing Gavin

6: Being Chased In Rome

7: Murder In Spain

8: Under Arrest

9: Finally Back To London

10: Romance in Rome

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The envelope contains a small corner of
paper, apparently torn from a manuscript, and a note that reads ‘If
you want more, come to 60-12 Piazza de Castagno 1, Rome, Italy,
81053.’ There is no mention of a date or time. I flip the envelope
and scan for clues- it is addressed specifically to me ‘Ms. Arcadia
Jones’, Curator, Metropolitan Museum, New York, NY. 11201; there is
nothing else but the postmark of Roma.

I’m optimistic, because the sender expects me
to date the sample and become excited enough to pursue the lead, so
I head to schedule a test with my assistant Sebastian Sabourin.

“Three days.” He tells me.

“Can you work it in earlier?” I beg, “I have
a feeling it’s important.”

He scans his work schedule. “I guess I can
bump ‘Harrison’ – he was called away for two weeks. Okay, I’ll have
it tomorrow – say around noon.”

I hand him the corner of paper and plant a
kiss on his cheek. “Sebastian, you’re wonderful!”

The Accelerator Mass Spectrometer carbon
dating device performs impeccably and tells us that the scrap of
parchment is dated circa 1510 plus or minus.

Okay – let’s get to work.

I’ll base my search engine on Italy and
include a span of five years either side: I’m offered several
starting points – The Great Flood of Rome, the Great Fire at the
Rialto of Venice, the Medici restored to power, Florence was
captured by the Spanish, Agrippa returned to Northern Italy… none
of these stimulate my interest. Anyway they’re pretty well
documented. No, there’s something missing…

Missing…

Now I get interested. What’s
‘missing’
from that period? Was that what somebody found? The search engine
is not co-operative on finding ‘missing’ parameters, so I lean back
in my chair, close my eyes and allow my imagination to run free.
I’m in Italy, there’s the Tower of Pisa – doesn’t seem to be
leaning to me at the moment… paintings I’ve only dreamed of seeing
are there before my eyes, the canals of Venice – I’m in a gondola
heading to the Sistine Chapel, I look up and see the yet unfinished
work of da Vinci – I sit bolt upright, but don’t open my eyes. Wild
tales told by my parents flit through my mind – da Vinci…
something’s ringing a bell…

Back to the search engine; I type in da
Vinci… blah, blah – all the stuff I remember from studies at
Harvard, but wait… what’s this? There’s a link to a different site.
I open it and it leads me to the ‘ten top mysteries of all time’.
There, staring me in the face at ‘number ten’ is a report of the
disappearance of 85% of da Vinci’s books containing ideas for
inventions, with sketches. On his death these books were bequeathed
to his friend and pupil, the painter Francesco Melzi, but they were
stolen on his death in 1570 when his possessions were ransacked and
many of them stolen. As a painter, Melzi worked so closely with and
for Leonardo that some works which were originally attributed to
Leonardo are today ascribed to Melzi

When things seem too good to believe, they
usually are and there was one time when I thought the same of the
‘Rosetta Stone’ – but I digress. Back to the present; obviously I
have to pursue this, so I’ll get Professor Hannibal to sub for me
at Harvard and take a leave of absence from the museum for two
weeks – that will give time to see my parents in London. If anybody
can shed light on this, it will be them – after all they taught
‘Indiana Jones’ all he knows.

I so miss the speed of the retired
turbojet-powered supersonic passenger airliner Concorde, when
traveling to London on one took no longer than a regular flight to
Florida it seemed, but we eventually touch down at Heathrow and I
whisk through ‘customs’ with all the special benefits of a ‘first
class’ passenger.

A forty minute cab ride and I’m hugging my
parents in their luxury ‘flat’ - as they call an apartment in jolly
old Britain, on the banks of the Thames. I can see HMS Belfast, now
a permanently moored tourist attraction near the London Bridge,
from their panoramic window.

“So bring us up to date with this mystery
letter.” My father urges.

I show it to him and he produces an ever
ready magnifying glass from his waistcoat pocket. After several
minutes of study he hands it to my mother without a word. She
scrutinizes back and front, but pays particular attention to the
torn edge before returning it with a nod.

“Vellum undoubtedly, probably from around
1500.” He announces with authority.

“Stored particularly well.” My mother adds.
“If not, this sample would be brittle or mold stained; just the
right amount of humidity.”

“Why not parchment?” I ask.

My father hands the glass to me. “See the
faint hair mark? This is most likely the back of the sheet.
Parchment had a different process which typically removed hairs –
this is from calf skin – not lamb.”

“What about the envelope?”

“It’s just an envelope – nothing special,
although the address is intriguing.”

“Why?”

“Rome. Home of a subversive art movement
founded by a former pupil of da Vinci – Bartolomeo Suardi, if I
recall correctly.

“You guys are amazing.” I compliment.

“Guys? What happened to your vocabulary,
Arcadia? My mother complains.

“America.”

“When are you leaving for Rome?” Father
asks.

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Good – let’s invite Gavin Galbraith for
dinner tomorrow then.”

“Gavin – he’s in town?”

“Yes, he called last night.”

“That would be nice.”

Gavin was the hottest man I ever knew and our
relationship was perfect until he spoiled it by asking me to marry
him. He was the one responsible for sparking my passion for red
high heel shoes - and the Argentine tango, the most sensuous dance
in the world. The two fit together so perfectly.

The moment I see him, old emotions flood
back. His gorgeous black hair is a little longer than before and I
imagine how great it would look slicked-back under dance floor
floodlights. His hazel eyes show obvious pleasure in seeing me and
his strong arms engulf me greedily.

“Arcadia, you look radiant!” He compliments
and takes a step back to admire me from head to foot. “Ah - red
shoes.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, you know
that. Your father tells me you’re off on another quest
tomorrow.”