The Alchemist’s Code (35 page)

I hesitated.

“Move, Lorenzo. The lives of hundreds of people depend upon it.”

I grabbed the backpack, clicked open the clip, put the Cardan grille and the keys inside, then closed it again.

“Good. Now leave it where you found it and tell me what else you've discovered.”

“What?” I asked, confused, “I've just put everything I had in the backpack, I don't
have
anything else.”

“Lorenzo, I've already told you I'm a long-standing admirer of yours – I know very well the way you think. You gave me the clue, but you've already found out more details, haven't you? Why are you wasting my time?”

And at that moment, in a sudden, vivid flash of memory, I remembered who the voice belonged to. But it was absurd.

“Camille? Is that you? It can't be! You're supposed be in prison…”

Camille Ferri, a woman I had met years before, when the police had consulted me in an investigation about some archaeological relics that had been stolen by the Nazis. Camille was involved, and I had helped the police arrest her.

“You should read the news more often, Lorenzo. I'm back in business.”

“I don't believe it—”

“That's enough. I don't give a shit whether you believe it or not. So, what have you found out?”

I really didn't have much to give her, apart from the grille and the keys. I sighed, hoping she would be satisfied with them.

“The only thing I know is that we must not activate the Baphomet, Camille.”

“That'll be for us to decide. Now, tell your policeman friend to keep his phone on and charged at all times, because as soon as we locate the idol we will call you. And so you know, you have just activated a bomb – a little something to prove to you that we are not kidding.”

I looked at the backpack a few centimetres from me. I knew what that woman was capable of – in the past she had behaved completely unscrupulously, and had almost killed several museum guards and agents of the French gendarmerie.

It seemed that she had seen my worried look, because she said, “Don't worry – the bomb isn't there, that was just the detonator. You'll hear a small bang from around Piazza di Spagna. Now off you go, and enjoy yourself.”

There was a metallic click and I realised that she had gone. I stood there paralysed for a few seconds before I managed to get over my surprise and started running towards the place where I had left the police car. At that moment my mobile rang.

“Lorenzo, what's happening?” it was Oscar, sounding worried.

“Oscar, tell your colleagues immediately, something's about to happen in Piazza di Spagna!” I shouted into the phone. “I don't know what, that's all Raymond's contact told me.”

“But we didn't see anyone talking to you.”

“I'll explain in a moment.”

Reconstruction of events upon the basis of police interrogations

Piazza di Spagna, Rome, January, 2013 – 17:35

Luisa was happy. She had finally bought those fabulous Jimmy Choos she'd been dreaming about for the last two months. Ok, they weren't exactly cheap, but she'd saved at least a hundred euros thanks to the winter sales. She'd walked into the shop in Via Condotti trembling with excitement, desperately hoping that her size was still available. And luck had been on her side. The shop assistant had given her the box with such solemnity that you'd have thought she was handing her the Holy Grail. They were perfect, and they suited her lovely, slim twenty-year-old frame perfectly. Roberto, her boyfriend, would go crazy when he saw her in those heels.

There she was now, at Spagna metro station, waiting for the train with her friend Beba. The platform was packed, as usual. Every once in a while her beautiful green eyes would alight on the Jimmy Choo bag and she would sigh happily. She was so enraptured at having managed to get her hands on them that she was hardly listening to Beba. Even when her friend tried to draw her attention to the sparks she'd seen in the tunnel, Luisa hadn't paid much attention.

“What the hell
is
that?” Beba was wondering. “It sounds like something's making contact.”

Luisa just had time to lift her eyes before the last sparks disappeared in the dark tunnel.

“I don't know, maybe it was water on the cables. These trains are all falling to pieces anyway,” she said, without giving the situation much thought.

A moment later they heard the train coming, but they also saw thick white smoke accompanying it. The crowd waiting on the platform turned in fear towards the tunnel, and even Luisa lifted her eyes from her Jimmy Choo bag for a moment. The train roared out of the tunnel, its brakes screeching loudly and sparks spraying from the rails. As one, the crowd broke into a sudden rush towards the exits, but Luisa stood there immobile, watching the train as though hypnotised. A moment later there was an explosion from underneath the locomotive and it was launched up onto the platform by the blast wave. Luisa, clutching her shopping bag, watched, petrified, as it slid along the floor towards her, emitting smoke and flames like some kind of mythological monster.

Events reconstructed by Lorenzo Aragona

Piazza del Popolo, Rome, January, 2013 – 17:37

I had almost reached Oscar and the others when I realised that panic was starting to spread through the people in the square.

“Oh no, no!”

I turned towards Piazza di Spagna and saw against the cold blue sky a column of whitish smoke rising over the buildings.

“You sons of—”

I was about to head back to the square, but stopped when I heard someone calling my name from the opposite direction.

“Lorenzo, this way!”

I jumped into the car immediately and we shot off along Via di Ripetta to Piazza Augusto Imperatore, where we took a sharp left and plummeted through tortuously narrow alleys until we found ourselves on the right side of Piazza di Spagna.

When we arrived, it was difficult at first to work out what was going on. From the small alley which led from the metro entrance, people were pouring out in all directions, many coughing and struggling for breath. The police were attempting to help them but they too were struggling. One coughing policeman came over to our car, and Caruso tried to establish what was happening from him.

“It seems as though something's happened to the metro… Thick smoke started coming out… of the train that was coming into the station… Then there was an explosion and the train hit the platform. That's all I know.”

In the meantime, ambulances had begun to arrive in the square, together with more police cars.

Oscar shook his head in disbelief.

“Jesus – this is hell on earth!”

Panicking people were still emerging from the underground and the square was rapidly emptying, soon after we too were forced to move because the spreading smoke had almost reached the place where our car was parked.

Caruso started the car.

“Chief, the wind's blowing towards the Tevere – let's take Via del Tritone.”

As we were leaving we saw two policemen dragging away a screaming girl.

“Luisa! Luisa!” she shouted, crying and coughing. “Let me go – Luisa's still down there!”

I noticed that the girl was stubbornly clutching a shopping bag to her chest and that the policemen hadn't managed to prise it out of her hands.

“Pure insanity,” I murmured.

*

While Caruso was racing towards the southern part of the city, Oscar tried to take the situation in hand.

“Ok, tell me what the hell just happened. We saw you talking to yourself, turning towards a bag, opening it and putting the keys and the grille inside. And then all hell broke loose.”

I nodded.

“I wasn't talking to myself. There was a little envelope tied to the backpack, and inside it there was a micro-receiver. There was a woman on the other end giving me instructions. A woman I know very well.”

Oscar waited silently for me to say the name.

“Camille Ferri – do you remember her?”

He nodded his head incredulously.

“Damn her, she didn't waste any time.”

“Did you know she was out?”

“Yes, but the news was classified and we were told not to talk about it to anyone, don't ask me why.”

“That woman has more connections than the secret services of most countries, that's why. Her friends made sure that news of her release stayed under wraps.”

“She wasn't released – she
escaped
. Maybe that's why our French colleagues wanted to keep the news secret: to avoid looking like fools. Anyway, whether she's involved or not, we have more pressing problems now. What did she tell you?”

I reconstructed the conversation between Camille and myself in detail, and explained how it had ended a moment before the incident in Piazza di Spagna.

“So apparently you unwittingly activated the mechanism that set off the explosion,” said Oscar in astonishment.

“It looks that way. Did you hear what Anna said? These people have sophisticated technology.”

Unable to understand why all this was happening, Oscar was desperate.

“We gave them what they wanted, why would they do that?”

“Car three, car three… Caruso, can you hear me?”

“Car three here – yes Commissioner.”

“Let me speak to Franchi.”

“Here, I am here, Volta.”

“Franchi, the backpack's disappeared, and the chaos of the explosion covered their tracks so we didn't manage to identify the person who took it, even though that side of the square was under surveillance.”

“That's what I'd imagined. I've got another name for you to check, Volta, a French criminal who escaped some time ago from a prison in Paris. Her name is Camille Ferri. Apparently she's working with Raymond Woland now.”

There was a moment of silence. “Volta, are you there?”

“Franchi, Woland isn't involved. The girl's got it wrong. I've looked into it and… It's not him. Do you hear me? It's not him.”

“But we have an eyewitness!”

“Exactly.”

From Volta's tone, Oscar realised that someone had ordered them to leave Woland in peace. But why?

Reconstruction based on the statement of A.N. Glyz

Aventino, Rome, January, 2013 – 17:30

Anna immediately recognised the villa she'd escaped from a scant half hour before, and, though the sight of it brought back terrible memories, a wave of adrenalin made her clench her fists. She tried to remain calm. After all, she was with six policemen.

The three police cars surrounded the villa, two parked at the front and one at the back, and three of the six policemen went towards the gate, while Grimaldi stayed in the car with Anna. The gate opened and a man in a black suit appeared. He was very polite and let the agents in. After a few interminable minutes, one of the three policemen came out of the villa and approached the car where Anna and Grimaldi were.

“So, what's happening, Ferraris?” asked Grimaldi.

Inspector Ferraris' face was wan. He ignored his colleague's question.

“Miss, could you come with me?”

“Where? Inside the villa?”

“Don't be afraid, there's nothing to worry about.”

“What's happening, Ferraris?” Grimaldi asked again.

“A screw-up, Grimaldi. A huge screw-up,” Ferraris answered enigmatically.

Anna and the inspector entered the villa. They had apparently cleaned up after the shooting, as everything was in order. The other two policemen were in the hall – the same hall where the girl had escaped the taser attack. They were standing by the sofa Anna had used to take cover from the bullets, and a painting was now hanging there, covering up the damage to the wall. An old man was sitting on the sofa, his legs under a woollen blanket.

“Please, Miss, come closer,” one of the agents said. “Do you recognise this person?”

Anna looked at the old man for a few moments without replying. She was confused.

“This is Mr Raymond Woland, the tenant of the property and the President of Nanotech…”

“…and by the grace of God, not a kidnapper or a terrorist!” said the old man sarcastically.

This can't be happening, thought Anna – it looks like him, but it's not him!

“This is not the man who introduced himself to me as Raymond Severus Woland. Maybe it's his father, they do look alike.”

“Miss, I am the only Raymond Severus Woland in the world. You can ask around, if you like, I'm quite well known,” said the old man calmly, but with a hint of irritation. “The good Lord didn't grant me the honour of an heir, so I have no children, unless you count the thousands of orphans who have a home, food and education thanks to my foundations. You can look into that too. Even the Holy Father himself, whom I have had the good fortune to meet on more than one occasion, will confirm what I'm saying.”

One of the policemen looked at Inspector Ferraris and raised an eyebrow, to indicate that they had made a blunder.

Anna smiled nervously.

“No, no, come on. This is the house, there's no mistake, they must be using some trick to try and fool us. They've got rid of the men I took out and cleaned up. I was assaulted with some kind of weird electronic weapon right here and, if you look carefully, you'll find the room where they kept me locked up. It's downstairs.”

Woland burst into a hoarse laugh.

“Electronic weapons! You certainly have a good imagination, Miss. Anyway, please keep a civil tongue in your head when you're in my house. I will be happy to show the detectives everything, but not before seeing a search warrant.”

The agents were deeply embarrassed and, as if that wasn't enough, the telephone rang precisely at that moment. The man who had opened the door answered, listened briefly, then passed the telephone to Woland.