He ran his hand across the engravings, trying to find a gap in its seal.
“Hey, don’t touch that. It’s an ancient artifact. The archaeologists wouldn’t want you…”
Tom removed the prybar from his backpack and started prying the lid off the sarcophagus.
“Hey, hey… what about the respect for the dead?” the guide asked.
“Don’t worry about it. There’s no one inside.” Tom slid the lid to the side.
The guide tentatively leaned over Tom’s shoulder to see for himself. Inside was a completely vacant sarcophagus. At the base of it, a single rectangular recess matched what they were looking for.
Genevieve opened the vacuum sealed, metallic casing and removed the sacred stone. She gripped it in her hand in wonder, before placing it carefully in its recess. Instantly, the stone developed an affinity for its new surroundings, latching on with such ferocity that it would be impossible for anyone to remove the stone by hand.
“Who are you guys?” the guide asked.
Genevieve fixed a hardened stare onto the guide. “Not the sort of people to be crossed.”
“Okay, okay.” The man opened his palms outward in a placating gesture. “What do you want me to do?”
Tom said, “Give me a hand. We need to slide this lid back and seal the sarcophagus.”
It took all three of them to seal the vault once more, and the stone wall leading to the hidden chamber replaced. By the time they were done, the strange hypogeum had returned to its original appearance.
Another hour later, the three of them climbed the series of stone ladders and finally reached the surface. They thanked their guide, tipping him well. The man, only too eager to leave, disappeared without a goodbye.
Tom picked up his cell phone and made a call. “Sam, it’s done.”
Two sacred stones down, two to go. Life was looking up for the survival of the human race. Tom then took a deep breath, because opposite the main entrance to the Orvieto’s Underground, watching him, was the Italian stranger from the restaurant.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Tom walked quickly. He’d left Genevieve to double back and see if the stranger followed him. They were still in the heart of the main tourist parts of Orvieto. He headed north. It took about ten minutes, before he turned yet another corner and into Via Magalotti.
Away from the main tourist center near the Duomo del Orvieto and the entrances to the Orvieto Underground, the narrow streets were no longer filled with tourists. Tom walked slowly, seemingly as though he was taking an interest in the unique gothic architecture. He would walk a dozen yards and then pause to study a shopfront or a private residence. The sound of his feet on the cobblestones was amplified by the narrow laneway, surrounded by medieval stone buildings.
His pursuer tried to soften the sound, but there was no hiding it.
Tom meandered in a northeastern direction through the labyrinth of slender laneways, alleys, footbridges and pedestrian tunnels. He’d checked twice, and both times the same man was following him. The stranger was heavyset, but not overweight. His muscular arms and broad chest were emphatic in his seamlessly fitted Italian suit. There was no doubt in Tom’s mind that if he tried to outrun him, the man would probably move like an NFL running back. Likewise, he had no doubt the slight bulge in the suit was a holstered weapon.
The thought made him move quicker. He turned into Via dell’Olmo. It was a slender one-way street, with no shopfronts in sight. Toward the other end, the deep guttural sound of the powerful engine of a sports car resonated and echoed. Otherwise, the street was completely empty. Tom quickened his pace. About a hundred feet ahead, he turned left into a small alcove. It stretched approximately twenty feet into the carved-out volcanic tuff, and then, like a garage, stopped in a dead end.
Fear rose in his throat like bile.
He was trapped. Tom looked for a door, a window, or anything through which he could escape. There were none. He wasn’t carrying anything that could even be used as a weapon. He turned to confront his pursuer head on.
The stranger followed into the stony alcove.
Tom looked directly at him. Their eyes locked together for a moment, before the stranger broke it by darting around the rest of the alley. The man’s jaw was rigid, and his face was set with determination. There was something else there, too. Tom thought he saw hesitation and doubt, as though he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next.
But Tom knew what he had to do.
He was about to take his chance, by pushing through the man and making a run for. Someone revved an engine from across the road. The vibrations ran across the cobblestones beneath his feet.
The stranger reached into his jacket.
He’s going for the gun!
The lethal realization surged him on with reckless abandon. The stranger was big, but Tom was bigger and just as fast. Mentally, he imagined himself knocking into the side of the man’s right shoulder. If he hit him hard enough he could dislocate the shoulder on his shooting arm. If the man was a professional, he would probably still try and shoot, but it would be highly unlikely the man could aim. It was a long shot, but it was the only one Tom had left.
He held his breath and then stopped.
Because Genevieve came around the corner behind the stranger. She moved quickly and silently. Before the man had fully gripped the handle of his weapon, she had slid the razor-sharp end of her butterfly knife into the soft tissues of his throat, inches away from his carotid artery.
The man’s arm went limp. “Okay… I’m not moving.”
“Why are you following us?” she asked, her voice a dangerous whisper.
The stranger swallowed. “Not you. I have no idea who you are!”
“Then why have you been following me?” Tom asked.
The guy shrugged. “I haven’t.”
She put more pressure on the tip of the knife. “Yes, you have.”
The man spoke in a calm, reserved voice. “No. I’ve been following Liu Bianchi.”
“Who’s he?”
“Not he. She. And she’s a notorious assassin. The Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna have been hunting her across Europe for years. Her face was captured just yesterday, when she pursued you into the country.”
“You work for the AISE?” Tom asked. He’d heard of the Agency. They were basically the Italian equivalent of their CIA, Britain’s M16, or Germany’s Bundesnachrichtendienst.
The man nodded. “If you will permit me, I’ll show you my credentials.”
Genevieve increased the pressure in the knife until the blade was just under the skin. “Nice and slow.”
“Mr. Rigozzi. Luca Rigozzi.” The man removed his ID badge and threw it on the floor. “And you are?”
Tom picked it up and read the details. It looked legitimate, but who knew? He ignored the question and called Elise on his cell phone. He explained the situation and gave the man’s details. She checked with the database, and confirmed Luca Rigozzi did work for the AISE.
Tom turned to Genevieve. “He checks out.” Then, to Rigozzi, he said, “I’m Tom Bower and this is Genevieve.”
Genevieve released him.
Rigozzi took a handkerchief and dabbed the fine blood from his neck. “Thank you.”
Tom asked, “Someone’s been following us since we got here?”
“Yes. Her name’s Liu Bianchi and she’s one of the deadliest assassins the world has ever seen. We thought she might have been killed a few years ago. She went to ground and didn’t come back, until yesterday.”
Genevieve said, “You know she’s been following us since we got here?”