“And the second name on the list?”
“Genevieve — no surname — she’s the brunette hanging out with Tom currently in Orvieto.”
“Her passport says her name’s…”
“It’s fake. Trust me. She’s been living a lie since she arrived onboard the Maria Helena two years ago.”
Ilya stared at the photo of Tom and Genevieve. “She’s cute. Tom’s a lucky guy. Maybe I should personally pay her a visit?”
“Forget it. There’s something familiar about this girl. I recognize something about her face from somewhere, but I can’t place it. From what my sources at the Office of the Secretary of Defense tell me, she’s dangerous — an ex-assassin or something — very professional. Trained overseas for covert sanctions. Don’t confuse her soft smile, blue eyes and coquettish good looks for vulnerability — fuck with her, and she’ll chew you up and spit you out before you know what hit you.”
“So, what do you want me to do with them?”
“Nothing. Have your man observe and report back. Nothing more — and find out what the hell Sam Reilly’s searching for.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Tom paid for the meal and stepped out the door.
They walked three hundred feet up Via Ripa Serancia and into a ceramicarte — or what appeared to Tom as a boutique pottery shop. There, they waited. But no one came.
“Are you sure it was him?” Genevieve asked.
“I’m telling you, it was the man from the Great Blue Hole in Belize. I’m not sure about the rest of him. I didn’t really get a good look at him before, but his eyes were definitely the same. Gray-blue eyes, almost silvery. I’ve seen plenty of blue eyes over the years, but never like that. It would be pretty unusual to find a second person with the same color.”
“But not impossible.”
“No,” Tom agreed.
He stared out the window. No one left the restaurant.
Genevieve stepped back from the window. “They’re not following, and there’s no one else on the street. Maybe you’re wrong?”
“I don’t know. I was sure it was him. Even so, no reason to wait around here all day. Let’s make a start.
They cut through Malcorini Ripa Serancia and onto Via Del Caccia, before heading north-east to the Necropoli del Crocifisso del Tufo. The path took them along the top of the fortified defensive walls built above the dramatic near-vertical cliff-face of volcanic tuff. From there, they descended into the necropolis through an impressive pedestrian path that dropped down from Porta Maggiore.
The Necropolis del Crocefisso del Tufo was an Etruscan necropolis located at the base of the cliff of Orvieto. Tom and Genevieve casually studied the tombs. There were about seventy, all made of tuff bricks to form individual chambers. They were arranged orthogonally, with small trenches in between.
Fifteen minutes later, Tom’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and spoke to Sam for a couple minutes, before hanging up.
“What did he say?” Genevieve asked.
“He said that he and Billie placed the first of the sacred stones and not to bother with the necropolis. We need to find a specific tomb.”
She smiled. “There’s plenty of tombs here.”
“I know, but Sam says the one we’re after is going to be buried underground. He recommends the Orvieto Underground.”
“Sure, that makes sense.”
It was a forty-minute walk, climbing the steep stairs up into Orvieto. At the main entrance to the Orvieto Underground, Tom met many guides offering their services. He found one, an older man who’d been guiding the tunnel system for more than a quarter of a century, and agreed upon a price for a private tour.
“Is there something that you’d particularly like to see?” the guide asked.
Tom said, “Yes. We’re looking for a particular tomb or sarcophagus.”
The guide thought about it. “There aren’t any sarcophagi down there. Lot of interesting stuff, but none of those.”
“We’re looking for a particular monument where one might bury an Egyptian treasure,” Tom persisted.
It was an unusual request, given that the tunnels were carved by Etruscans, who had spent more than two and a half thousand years carving out the tunnels using hand tools.
The guide smiled. “I know what you’re after.”
“You do?” Genevieve and Tom replied in unison.
“Sure. You want me to take you to see that strange pyramid shaped hypogeum.”
Tom had never heard of it, but it sounded like the closest thing they were going to get to a tomb. He smiled. “That would be perfect.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
It took them fifteen minutes to reach the pyramid shaped hypogeum. As they descended the series of ladders carved out of the stone walls, their guide informed them that the Orvieto Underground had more than twelve hundred tunnels in total.
As Tom descended, all he could think about was how similar the place felt to the subterranean city of Derinkuyu in Turkey, with a series of interwoven tunnels and giant round stones capable of blocking off individual levels or tunnels from others.
Inside the hypogeum Tom studied the walls. It wasn’t a quarry — its walls were fixed at purposeful angles. Nor could it have been a cistern, because its walls showed no evidence of previous exposure to water.
The guide said, “It’s interesting to wonder what its purpose was, isn’t it?”
Genevieve removed the black light wand from her backpack. “I have high hopes you might get to see the answer to that question, shortly.”
The guide glanced at the wand. “What are you looking for with that?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’m hoping I recognize it when I see it. Do you mind switching of your flashlight, please?”
“Hey, you’re paying. If you want to play archaeologist, you go right ahead.”
The hypogeum went dark. For a moment, nothing seemed to appear, but then they spotted it. Along the southern wall, a rectangular stone — roughly four feet in height — lit up with the image of a horse.
Tom’s eyes widened as he touched it. “The stone’s fixed solid.”
The guide laughed. “Did you think you might move it?”
“I kind of hoped so,” Tom admitted.
Genevieve said, “Hang on, look at that.”
Tom followed her gaze. Toward the northern wall, a series of smaller stone tiles were lit up in the blue luminescence. There were several of them and when you joined them all together, it formed the image of the Greek letter of Sigma.
He sighed. “Well, at least we know we’re in the right place.”
“Sure, but now what do we do with it?” Genevieve asked.
Tom pressed his weight on the first of the luminescent stones. It depressed half an inch into the ground behind. It was a small enough movement that he needed to test the other non-radiant stones nearby to see if he could achieve the same effect with them. When he discovered he couldn’t, Tom carefully went around to the rest of the stones that joined to make Sigma.
When the last one was depressed, Tom heard the distinct sound of machinery. His eyes turned to the luminescent horse. Nothing changed. Genevieve went up to the stone wall and pushed. The entire stone block slid along an ancient set of rails into a hidden recess, revealing a set of stone stairs leading farther down.
“What the hell did you do?” the guide asked.
“What has to be done,” Tom replied, stepping into the opening.
The guide said, “I don’t think you should be going down there.”
Tom ignored him.
At the bottom of the stairs was an intricate sarcophagus. It was almost identical to the one found inside the queen’s chamber.