The Grecian Manifesto (12 page)

Chapter 22

Rome, Italy

Carl parked the car next to the sidewalk on the outskirts
of the Piazza Navona. “You’ll have to go on foot from here,” he explained. “No
cars allowed where you’re heading.” Both of the friends gave a thankful nod for
the information.

A few minutes later, Tommy and Sean were making their way
through the maze of old homes, shops, and cafes. They pushed quickly through
the heavy visitor traffic at the Fontana del Moro, a fountain many believed to
be a tribute to the ancient god Neptune. Its rose-colored marble base and
dramatic sculptures drew the imagination and admiration of many a tourist.

The little streets teemed with people, many busily
striding from one place to the next, others strolling casually through. Sean
looked at his phone a few times to make sure they were walking in the right
direction. He’d entered the address Emily sent to his Google Map application.
Based on the blinking blue dot on the screen, they appeared to be only a block
away from Cagliari’s home.

They hurried by a coffee shop, its patrons sitting out on
the patio enjoying conversation. The rich smells of Italian coffee hung in the
air as the men passed by. Sean and Tommy both loved good coffee, and they
exchanged a longing glance as they left the shop behind.

“Next time,” Sean said, knowing what his friend was
thinking.

“I do love coffee the way the Italians make it.”

Up ahead, the narrow thoroughfare twisted to the right,
angling its way slightly up a small hill. Just around the bend in the alley,
Sean stopped at a red door and double-checked the number attached to the side
of the sill. “This is it,” he said after confirming the text from Emily.

The door was set in a three-story, beige stucco building.
The adjacent structure was of the same build and design, save for brighter burnt-yellow
paint. Many of the buildings in the Piazza Navona featured similar
architectural and design expression.

Sean rapped firmly on the entrance and took a step back.
He glanced down one direction of the alley and then the other, an old paranoid
habit he’d kept for nearly a decade. An elderly couple walked slowly down the
other side of the narrow road. A man in a business suit walked by, talking on
his cell phone in Italian and clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. A few
tourists lumbered by, speaking in an English accent, talking about a place
where they’d like to eat later.

The door creaked open slowly, allowing only a slim space
to see inside. A pair of old, gray eyes stared out from the opening. The orbs
were set deep in a pair of recessed sockets and placed underneath a wrinkled, pale
forehead. The man’s white hair and sagging skin below his jaw emphasized his
age.

“Signor Cagliari?” Sean asked in as respectful a tone as
possible.

“Si. Sean Wyatt?” The question caught Sean off guard. How
did he know?

Sean nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m Sean Wyatt, and this is my
friend Tommy Schultz. Would it be all right if we came inside?”

“Of course, Sean,” the man answered in strong voice. “I
have been waiting for you. Please, come in quickly.” Cagliari opened the door
wider and beckoned the two visitors to enter.

The two looked at each other curiously, and then did as
told. Once inside, the old man looked down both stretches of the street before
closing the door and locking it.

Inside the apartment was like stepping out of a time
machine and into a world that had long since been left behind. The high
ceilings were accented by ancient timbers, running from one side of the great
room to the next. The kitchen to the left had been modeled in the Tuscan
design, and featured exquisite tiled floors and backsplashes, complementing the
pale stone countertops. On the far wall of the great room, a floor-to-ceiling
bookshelf stretched high and wide, burdened with hundreds of books on every
single level.

“Please,” the host said, showing the way to a plush, navy
blue couch, “sit down. I am sure you have many questions.”

The men accepted the offer and sat down on the
surprisingly soft cushions.

“Can I offer you a glass of wine or perhaps some coffee?”
Cagliari asked, shuffling toward the kitchen.

Tommy remembered the smell of the coffee from the street
and was about to accept when Sean gave him the silent shake of his head. “We’re
in a hurry,” he mouthed.

“No thank you, sir. I do appreciate the offer,” Tommy
said, full of resignation.

“No worries. I am just finishing my daily glass. I hope
you don’t mind.” The old man scooped up a thin, long-stemmed glass with a small
amount of deep-red liquid still in the bottom.

“Not at all, signore. It’s your house,” Sean smiled at the
man as he returned to the great room.

Cagliari padded over to a leather club seat and eased into
it, sighing as if he’d just run ten miles to get there. He took a long sip from
the glass before setting it on top of a small, glass top end table.

“So, you have come for the scroll.” Cagliari spoke in a
casual, matter-of-fact tone.

Tommy and Sean glanced at each other, not sure what to
say. Sean spoke up first with a bewildered expression. “We aren’t really sure
what we are here for, signore. We were hoping you could help us with that. All
Adriana left us was your name. She left you a scroll?”

The old man had lifted the wine glass to his mouth once
more and took another draught. He shook his head fervently at the question.
“No, my friend. She did not leave the scroll with me. You are looking for the
scroll. It is not in this place.”

Tommy seemed more befuddled. “What scroll, signore?”

“Now that is the question.” He set the glass down again
and folded his hands over the tops of his legs. “The scroll is hidden. I have
searched much of my life to find another Eye of Zeus, but it has eluded me. If
you can find the scroll, you can find the missing device.”

Sean jumped back into the conversation. “So it’s a map?”

“Possibly,” Cagliari said, putting his hands out with
palms up. “No one really knows for certain. The common theory is that, yes, the
scroll is a map.”

“I’m sorry, signore,” Sean put a hand up and stopped the
man. “I feel like there is a backstory we are missing. Would you mind filling
us in on where the scroll came from, and why we are looking for it?”

“Certainly,” the man said with a wide smile. His teeth
were in remarkable shape, clean and bright. “I began my career as a young
student of archaeology, much like yourself, Mr. Wyatt.” He jabbed a crooked
finger in Sean’s direction. “When I was thirty years of age, I stumbled upon a
story about an ancient mechanism that could forecast future events. This is the
relic known as the antikythera, or in some circles, the Eye of Zeus.”

“Wait,” Tommy interrupted. “People believed this thing
could tell the future?”

“Yeah,” Sean answered for Cagliari, “I forgot to tell you
about that. Just let him finish, and I’ll fill you in later.”
 
Then he switched his attention back to
the old man. “Please, professor, continue.” Tommy held his tongue
incredulously.

Cagliari nodded and smiled before he went on. “At first,”
he laughed, “I thought much like you did. The ancients had many strange
superstitious beliefs. Some seemed downright outlandish. However, when I
discovered that Julius Caesar had a keen interest in the Eye of Zeus, my
disposition changed immediately.

“Gaius Julius Caesar was not a man with whom to be
trifled. His command was law, and only his ambition for the Roman nation
trumped that. He knew that with great plans come great consequences, both
within circles, and without.” Sean nodded. He knew what Cagliari was referring
to: Caesar’s betrayal by those who were closest to him. “Caesar knew that he
could never let those who would betray him take hold of the Eye of Zeus. It
would mean the collapse of everything he’d worked so hard to establish.”

Outside the great room’s window, children laughed and
squealed as they ran by, probably playing some game. Sean’s mind was on full
alert, and every sudden noise jerked at his attention.

Sean finished Cagliari’s story. “So he hid it.”

“That is correct.”

“Where?” Tommy asked.

Cagliari’s smile broadened and he took another sip of
wine. “That, my friend, is a question that had occupied my mind for nearly
three decades.” He stared down at the floor for a minute. His smile never
faded, but Sean could tell he was thinking about something jarring, regret
perhaps. “All the time I spent working on that project never came to fruition.
Of course, I was working at the university most of the time so my work on the
Eye of Zeus came out of my personal time. Sad to say, I gave up a few good
relationships as a result. Still, I never found the thing. That was, until I
met your friend.”

“Adriana.” Sean said reverently. His heart thumped again
in his chest. He rarely worried about people. Worrying never helped anything.
It was like experiencing failure in advance, but rarely did it help someone
prepare for it, much less help the situation.

“Yes,” Cagliari said proudly. “She’s a remarkable woman.
Adriana was able to figure out an ancient mystery that had remained hidden for
centuries, and to these old eyes for many years. The solution was so simple. It
was hidden right under my nose the whole time.” He laughed again at the
thought.

The old man stared at the floor for a few seconds before
realizing his guests were waiting for more answers. He looked up and began
speaking again.

“For years, I pored through the secret writings of Julius Caesar.
I was granted access to the archives within the Vatican, a privilege that few
ever attain. I found hundreds of texts concerning battles, planning, and even
some things on civic responsibilities such as sanitation, water, and crime.
When I finally found an entry regarding the Eye of Zeus, its meaning escaped
me. I spent almost a year of my life desperately trying to unravel the last
thread of the mystery.”

“What thread was that?” Tommy asked like a boy hearing a
ghost story around a campfire. He leaned forward in his seat, on the edge of
the cushion.

Cagliari stood up and padded over to a humble wooden desk
in the corner of the room. The little workstation was only three feet wide and
made from maple worn by time. The man picked up a copy of something sitting on
the right side of the desk and brought it back over to his guests. He handed it
to Sean and returned to his seat.

Tommy stood up and anxiously stepped over to Sean’s side
to look over his shoulder. The sheet of paper was a copy of a document that
must have been thousands of years old.

“I found that in the Vatican archives a few years ago,”
Cagliari interrupted the silence. “I suppose it took a pair of young eyes to
understand its meaning, though. It seems that is life’s way. The older, more educated
of us are too set in our ways to be open to new ideas.”

Sean read the words, written in Latin. “These were written
by the hand of Julius Caesar?” Even though what he had in his hands was just a
copy, Sean still appreciated the gravity of the document.

The old Italian nodded silently, beaming with pride.

Sean and Tommy both did the translation in their head as
they stared at the sheet, puzzled by the riddle.

The key to the Eye
of Zeus is in the mouth of the great god.

Chapter 23

Rome, Italy

“That’s a strange riddle,” Sean said flatly.

Tommy echoed his friend’s sentiment by repeating part of
the phrase. “The eye is in the mouth? No offense, signore, but I can see why
that had you stumped for so long.”

“None taken, Thomas.” The man grinned. “I must say it was
a relief that someone actually figured it out. I would have gone to my grave
entirely frustrated if your friend had not come along and saved me.”

Sean didn’t want to be rude, but he knew that time could
be running out for Adriana. “What was her solution to the riddle, signore?” he
asked as politely as possible.

Cagliari sensed Sean’s urgency and happily obliged. “The
life blood of the city of Rome is its river, the Tiber. It has always been the
source of vitality for Romans, dating back to its earliest settlers. In the
beginning, the first people here believed that the river was a gift from their
gods, a blessing that would help them build a great society. They were not
wrong about that part.” Cagliari winked then went on. “The name Tiber was
bestowed upon the river as a tribute to the ancient king Tibernius, who drowned
in its waters.

“According to the Roman legend, Jupiter made the king a
god and tasked him with guarding the people of Rome from his river throne. In
the lore, the river flowed from the god’s hair and beard to the people.”

Now Sean understood the riddle. The Tiber River was the
great god. That meant the key to the Eye of Zeus would be somewhere near its
mouth. Sean frowned.

“The mouth of the great god? So we are supposed to search
the mouth of the river? That covers a huge surface area where the river meets
the sea. How would you know where to start?” A sickening feeling crept into
Sean’s stomach. They didn’t have time to do a full-on excavation at the mouth
of the Tiber.

Cagliari’s eyes gleamed like someone who kept a grand
secret. “You are correct, Sean. If we were looking for the mouth of the river, that
would be a problem. Fortunately, it is not the mouth of the river you seek, but
the mouth of the god himself.”

The answer struck Tommy first. “The river’s source. It
would have to be a spring or something small. Right?”

Their host nodded. “Correct.” He drew the last remnants of
wine into his mouth and continued. “You can find the source of the Tiber in the
Apennine Mountain Range, on Mount Fumaiolo. It is a few hours north of here,
but it is a well-known location. Italians consider it a historic landmark.
Benito Mussolini put a plaque there to commemorate it. The river begins as a
spring flowing from a small opening in the mountain. According to the answer
your friend, Ms. Villa, provided, it is there you will find the key to the Eye
of Zeus.”

The last sentence brought up another question in Sean’s
mind. “You said we will find the key. What does that mean? The relic isn’t there?”

Cagliari’s mouth creased to one side. “No. You will not
find the last antikythera at the source of the Tiber. That would have been too
simple for anyone living in Caesar’s time, or so he thought. The key is like a
map. It should tell you the location of the Eye of Zeus, but beware: It is
likely that Caesar made the key difficult to decipher. If I were to guess, he
probably called upon his years at sea to create the last piece of the puzzle.”

“What makes you think that?” Tommy asked, returning to his
seat.

The old man glanced down at his empty glass with a longing
expression, and then leaned back in his chair. “Julius Caesar loved his time
with the Roman navy. He reflected back on it throughout many of his journals as
some of his favorite years. The time he spent upon Roman vessels shaped who he
was as a man. It hardened him, focused him, and educated him in ways he would
not have imagined before. It would make sense that his riddle would have
something nautical in it.”

Sean absorbed the information quietly. Inside his head,
the gears were turning. They needed to get to Mount Fumaiolo fast. “Will you be
going with us to the mountain?” he asked respectfully.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Cagliari said with a smile.
“It would be a great honor. Alas, I am too old to be running off on such
adventures, Mr. Wyatt. It is time for me to pass the quest for the antikythera
to someone a bit younger than I with the energy to see it through.”

“Are you sure?” Tommy pressed, probably just being polite.

“I am quite sure. I would only slow you down, and as I can
see, you are in something of a hurry.”

“Thank you for your help,” Sean said. “I hope I can repay
you someday.”

Cagliari raised a dismissive hand. “No repayment
necessary. Now, you should get going. It’s a few hours’ drive from here, and
you need to get the mountaintop before dark.”

Sean and Tommy stood simultaneously, followed by their
host. The three men started to head to the door when their goodbyes were suddenly
interrupted by five vigorous knocks. The three froze in place at the edge of
the living room.

“You expecting company?” Sean asked, just above a whisper.

Cagliari said nothing at first, but shook his head slowly.
He pointed to the back of the great room to a dark doorway. “Quickly,” he said
in a hushed voice.

The old man moved fast toward the back of the house. Sean
was surprised at his speed. Cagliari led them through the short archway and to
the left where a set of stairs descended into the basement of the home. The
three men hurried down the steps and through another door. They were greeted by
a vast wine cellar with racks of bottles lining the walls.

“Where are you taking us?” Tommy asked, wondering if they
weren’t being put in a corner with no escape.

Their host flashed another mischievous grin. “Some of
these old buildings have secret passages built in. It was one of the reasons I
bought this home. I couldn’t help myself. I love mysterious things.” He stepped
over to a narrow wine rack that stretched up to the low ceiling. Cagliari
reached out his hand and pulled on the third bottle from the top of the far
right row. The entire wine rack swung slowly away from the wall like a giant
door, revealing an opening behind it.

“Quickly, gentlemen.”

Cagliari removed a cell phone from his pocket and tapped
on the screen a few times until the light on the back side of the device came
on, illuminating a dark, musty passageway behind the wine rack. He disappeared
behind the rows of bottles, still moving faster than Sean thought possible.

“I guess this is our way out,” Tommy said.

“I guess so.”

The two followed the old man into the entry of the secret
passage and pulled out their phones, turning on their lights the same way
Cagliari had.

The Italian stepped over to a handle on the wall and
pulled it down gently. A second later, the wine rack swung closed, immersing
the three men in the darkness of the corridor, save for the light their phones
provided.

“Where does this lead?” Sean asked as Cagliari began to
make his way forward.

“Ironically, it leads to the river.”