“Look, we should all be concerned,” Zane said. “To be perfectly honest, my stomach is in knots over what might have happened.” He paused for a moment, measuring his words. “I apologize if I’ve seemed uncaring, but when things happen that are out of my control, I’ve learned to block them out. Besides, Brett is trying to get her number as we speak. Once we have that, maybe we’ll be able to contact her and put all this behind us.”
After a long pause, Amanda said, “I guess I, of all people, know what she’s going through.”
Zane knew she was referring to her own father’s death. He was surprised he hadn’t thought of their shared experience until now. She was one of the few people who could understand the emotions and the pressure that must weigh on Emily.
He tapped the book in her lap. “Anything helpful in there?”
“A lot of good stuff, although I’m beginning to wonder if we’re ever going to understand what he was referring to. There is just way too much information.”
“I was afraid of that. What’s the subject matter?”
“Old Testament archaeology.”
“Oh, boy. A foolproof cure for insomnia.”
Amanda shook her head. “I can’t help it if you have bad taste. Old Testament history is exciting.”
“If you say so.”
As she continued to read, Zane picked up the remote and turned on the television. A pretty dark-haired reporter appeared on the screen. She stood at the edge of the square along the Grand Canal, clutching a microphone with one hand while pointing with the other. The scene was still chaotic with police and emergency workers moving around behind the yellow tape. She seemed to be saying a search was still on for suspects. Apparently, the police were still refusing to rule out terrorism, even though no one seemed to have suffered any significant injuries beyond bumps and bruises from the stampede. That last sentence gave Zane some hope Emily might have made it out unscathed. Had she been shot or killed, the authorities would surely know.
Moments later, the scene switched to a male reporter in a different part of the city. He stood not far from Pauling’s home. Behind him, dozens of people were crowded up against a law enforcement barrier. The reporter quoted the police as saying they believed both events were connected, although the nature of the connection was not yet clear.
“Well, we did accomplish something tonight,” Carmen said over the sound of the television.
Zane lowered the volume. “And what’s that?”
“We were able to field test Brett’s new toy.”
Zane still wasn’t sure if the blast had actually killed anyone. After all, the gunmen could’ve run off before the device detonated. But it had done its job, which was to suppress incoming fire and give them the time they needed to get away. “Brett’s bombs.” He laughed. “I have to hand it to him. The triggering mechanism worked to perfection.”
Carmen looked over her shoulder. “And don’t forget we still have one left.”
“Let’s just hope we don’t—”
“What the…?” Amanda sat up straight, a look of shock spreading over her face.
Zane frowned at her.
She met his gaze. “I think I found Dr. Pauling’s message.”
CHAPTER TEN
Zane found it hard to believe what he’d just heard. He hadn’t expected her to find anything tonight. If there was a clue hidden in the book, he’d assumed it would take hours of study. Perhaps Pauling had done something simple like slipping a piece of paper between the pages.
He muted the television. “What does it say?”
“Well, I don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean?” Carmen joined them on the couch. “You said you figured it out.”
“Here, take a look. It’s not what you’re thinking.” Amanda turned the book. Zane’s eyes widened. A square had been cut into the center of the pages that comprised the last half of the volume, and lying in the created space was a small device.
“I was skipping ahead, flipping through the pages,” Amanda continued. “When I got about halfway through, I came to one that wouldn’t turn. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. Book pages often stick together when food or drink is spilled inside. But after looking at it more closely, I realized all of the remaining pages were stuck together. So I peeled a few back and found this.”
Zane leaned closer. The device appeared to be an MP3 player. Amanda tugged but had trouble getting it out.
“Looks like it’s glued in there,” Carmen said.
Amanda tugged harder, and finally, the player broke free.
“Probably didn’t want it to bounce around if someone happened to pick the book up,” Carmen noted.
Zane was stunned. The subject of Pauling’s text to Dr. Rust had been right here under their nose the entire time. He’d expected the clue would be one of the artifacts detailed in the text, not an audio recording.
Amanda pushed the power button. “Let’s see what we have.”
Zane and Carmen leaned in.
When the device lit up, only one file showed on the screen. Amanda tapped it, and a video began to play. A man appeared, seated in a black leather chair. He had salt-and-pepper hair and wore stylish, wire-rimmed glasses. Zane immediately recognized Dr. Richard Pauling. He had a pleasant expression — the kind of man you felt comfortable with right away.
The footage had clearly not been shot in or around Venice. Pauling sat in a room, probably a private residence. The area around the house was visible through several windows behind him. Beautiful mountains rose in the distance, which Zane assumed were somewhere in Italy, although he had no way of knowing for sure.
After a brief moment, Pauling cleared his throat and began:
Hello, Andrew. I hope this finds you well. The fact that you’re watching this means two things. One, I’m probably dead. And two, you’ve followed my instructions to the letter. Let me first explain what this is all about. A little over six months ago, I got the opportunity to examine an ancient map. From the very beginning, I was skeptical about its authenticity, but after meeting with the seller and performing a few simple tests, I realized it was the real thing.
What is it a map of? It would be too risky to divulge that information here. You’re the best at what you do, and I have no doubt you’ll be able to figure it out for yourself.
Pauling took a drink of water.
So why did I ask you to come here to Venice? Let me explain. Shortly after making the purchase, a close friend told me word had gotten out regarding the existence of the map. Apparently, the seller had talked to the wrong people, and word eventually made its way to a group that had been seeking it for years. They had let it be known they would do anything to acquire it. When you finally understand the nature of the map, you’ll also understand why I can’t let it get into the wrong hands, even if it means giving up my life.
In any event, I had to make sure that, in the event of my death, someone could carry on with my work. Unfortunately, the map is not complete, and some additional work needs to be done in order to find the location it describes. It’s like having a map of the neighborhood, only you don’t know what city that neighborhood is in. I have some strong suspicions about where that might be, but you’ll have to figure that out yourself.
At this point, you’re probably expecting me to divulge the location of the map. The actual map is being held by my attorney, who shall not be named, and will be distributed to an unnamed individual upon confirmation of my death. But don’t worry. You won’t need the actual map because I’ve made a perfectly legible electronic image. Once you find it, you’ll be able to use it in your research.