Dial grimaced. ‘Nah. I’m not much of a theater fan. More of a sports guy myself… But for the sake of my investigation, let me ask you something. Does anyone die in Hamlet?’
‘Good heavens, yes! The whole play is about murder and revenge.’
‘That’s kind of interesting, considering recent events. I wonder if there’s a connection?’
The man looked around, paranoid, then lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Of course there’s a connection. There has to be. Why would someone dump a body here if there wasn’t?’
Dial stood from his chair, finally ready to examine the crime scene. ‘That’s what I need to figure out.’
5
Maria figured it was an illusion caused by poor lighting. All of that changed when she put her hand on the stone. Its texture was too perfect to be natural. ‘Professore? Do you have a minute?’
Boyd crossed the grotto, stepping over the tangle of power cords and dusty tools that were scattered about the floor. Maria was staring at the wall, so he turned in that direction. In an instant he knew what it was, and the realization made his knees buckle.
Over a span of three feet, the cave went from rough to smooth to rough again, like someone had taken a giant piece of sandpaper and rubbed it against the wall. He reached out, half afraid, worried that the floodlights were playing tricks on his weary eyes. The sleek surface proved that they weren’t. ‘Quick! Hand me my gun.’
The gun was Boyd’s nickname for his handheld blower, a small archaeological device that he used during excavations. Approximately the size of a cell phone, the gun contained a small cartridge of oxygen that blew dirt out of the tiny crevices and did less damage than a sharp tool. Boyd cleaned the surface of the wall using a paintbrush in one hand and his gun in the other. Rubble fell to his feet like heavy rain, causing tiny wisps of dust to float into the air. A few minutes later the outline of a three-foot square began to take shape in the middle of the cave.
‘Yes, I do believe you have found something.’
Maria squealed with delight. ‘I knew it! I knew that rock looked different!’
After clearing three sides of the seam — upper, left, and right — Boyd was able to measure the stone slab: thirty-seven and a half inches square by five and a half inches deep. Maria dragged one of the lights closer and tried to peer through the corners, but the cave wall had a back lip that prevented it.
‘Professore, what do you think it is? It’s too small to be a door, isn’t it?’
Boyd finished writing in his binder. ‘Drainage, perhaps? Maybe an aqueduct? Once we see what’s on the other side, I’m sure we’ll have a better idea.’
Boyd handed her a crowbar. ‘And since you found the stone, I think you should have the privilege of removing it.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered as she slipped the bar in the seam. ‘This means a lot to me, sir. I actually feel like we’re a team.’
‘Now don’t be surprised if you need my help. Stones like this can be rather stubborn. I recall one time in Scotland when — ’
A loud thud echoed through the chamber as the massive rock crashed to the floor. The two archaeologists glanced at each other in disbelief, then lowered their gaze to the giant slab that sat at their feet. ‘Good Lord!’ Boyd said. ‘Have you been taking steroids?’
Confused, he dropped to his knees and examined the stone that had practically jumped from the wall. He tried to push the block on its side but was unable to budge it. ‘Then how in God’s good name did you manage that? This thing weighs a ton. And that’s not a hyperbole, my dear. This thing literally weighs a ton!’
‘I don’t know. I barely put any pressure on it. I just put the crowbar in and… pop!’
Boyd realized engineers in ancient Rome were advanced for their time. However, he couldn’t figure out why they would build a wall where one of the stones could be knocked out of place with such minimal effort. Perhaps, he thought, it was an escape tunnel.
‘Excuse me, Professore?’
He blinked, then turned his attention to his assistant. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I was lost in thought. Did you need something?’
Maria nodded. ‘I wanted to know if we could go inside now.’
Boyd’s face turned a bright shade of red. ‘Good Lord! How silly of me. Here I am, pondering the significance of this bloody stone when we’re on the verge of…’ He took a deep breath. ‘Yes, by all means, let’s venture inside.’
The passageway was narrow, giving them just enough room to enter. Boyd went first, then waited for Maria to pass him his equipment. When her arm finally appeared, he snatched the flashlight and struggled to find the power button. The powerful beam overwhelmed the blackness, shattering the sanctity of the holy grounds for the first time in years, exposing the high-arched ceiling and the colorful murals that adorned the smooth walls.
‘My Lord,’ he gasped in amazement. ‘My sweet Lord!’
Seconds later, Maria squeezed through the hole while carrying a video camera. She had no idea what Boyd was gaping at but was determined to capture it on tape. At least that was the plan. But, the moment she stepped inside the chamber she was so overwhelmed by the artwork that she dropped the camera to her side. ‘Santa Maria!’
Stunned, she spun in a small circle, trying to soak in everything at once. The vaulted roof was typical of the ancient Roman era, allowing the majority of the ceiling’s weight to be supported by the chamber’s four walls. Despite this classical approach, the chamber still utilized a series of four Tuscan columns, one placed in each corner for architectural decoration.
In between each pillar, starting just below the arched ceiling, was a series of four religious frescoes, each depicting a different scene from the Bible. The showcased piece of the group appeared to be the life of an unknown saint, for it was twice as large as the others and was centered on the right wall directly behind a stone altar.
‘What is this place?’ she whispered.
Boyd continued to gaze around the room, amazed that he’d found the mythical vaults. ‘The basic design looks similar to many buildings built during the peak of the Roman Empire, but the paintings on the walls are much more recent — perhaps fifteenth or sixteenth century.’
He paused, staring at the frescoes. ‘Maria, do they look familiar to you?’
She strolled forward, studying the colorful scenes as she moved about the chamber. She had no idea what he was referring to, but that didn’t stop her. She carefully eyed the paintings, trying to find the common thread that would unite them. ‘Oh my Lord! I have seen these before! These murals are in the Sistine Chapel.’
‘Exactly!’ Boyd applauded. ‘Adam and Eve, the flood, Noah’s ark. The three main subjects of Michelangelo’s ceiling. In fact, these frescoes look remarkably similar to his.’
Maria glanced from picture to picture. ‘They do possess his flair, don’t they?’
‘I almost hate to say this without any tangible proof, yet… I wonder if Michelangelo actually did these himself.’
Her eyes doubled in size. ‘You’re joking, right? You actually think he painted these?’
Boyd nodded. ‘Think about it, Maria. This place served as a second Vatican for decades. When the Great Schism occurred, the Italian popes came to Orvieto for protection. At the time the Church was in such disarray the papal council actually considered moving the Vatican here permanently. They felt this was the only place that could offer them adequate protection.’