The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,48
“After you,” he said, waving the group inside.
For once, Major Brossard did not follow.
Apparently, this was a bridge he wasn’t allowed to cross.
Once they were all inside, the monsignor waved his keycard over a reader. The doors closed and the cage began to descend.
“Where does this elevator go?” Gray asked Roe.
“To a set of ancient vaults. The oldest part of the palace dates back to the thirteenth century. But you might have noticed the ancient Roman amphitheater in the woods on these grounds. It was part of a larger complex, the villa of Emperor Domitian. The palace is built atop its ruins. We’re headed down to the villa’s old water cisterns and wells.”
“Exactly how old are these ruins?” Maria asked.
“Parts date back two thousand years.”
“In other words, to the founding of Christendom,” Gray said, quoting Roe’s earlier description of the contents of this secret library.
Roe smiled. “It only seemed appropriate to place the Holy Scrinium here.”
The elevator bumped to a stop and the doors opened.
They all exited into a great bricked vault. Its walls spread out in a circle thirty yards wide. The dome of the roof was supported by thick stone arches lined by caged lights. Seichan had seen such architectural handiwork in Rome’s ancient Forum, but she also recognized the size and shape from a moment ago.
Maria did, too, as she gaped around. “It looks to be the same size and shape of the observatory dome above us. Only made of stone here.”
“As above, so below,” Roe intoned with a hint of a smile.
Gray glanced at the man. “That’s a quote from the Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistus.”
“Esatto. It only seemed appropriate, considering what I’m about to show you. Hermes was a Greek god gifted with forbidden knowledge of the universe.” Roe set off across the space. “Come. Let me show you.”
As the group followed him, Seichan noted three hallways branching off in different directions. Down the closest, massive steel doors lined the passageway. Electronic locks glowed crimson on the walls next to them, likely securing millennia-old treasures inside.
But the monsignor led them instead under an archway to a medieval-looking mahogany door banded and studded in black iron. He yanked on a huge ring and pulled it open. Firelight greeted them, along with a wash of warm air.
Beyond the threshold, tapestries draped a small reading room. Long desks abutted the walls, with dark lamps on them. Four wing-backed chairs circled a tilted wooden bookstand, which held aloft a large silk-draped volume. Past the stand, a small fireplace crackled and snapped.
The room was also occupied.
Father Bailey stood up from one of the chairs. He had left the group earlier, obviously to collect someone else to bring to this gathering deep under the palace.
Maria hurried forward. “Mac . . .”
The bearded climatologist remained seated, his arm in a sling, his shoulder bandaged. “About time you all got down here.”
Maria fussed over him, but the man assured her he was feeling better. “They topped me off,” he said, tapping his arm where he must have been transfused. “Feel good as new.”
Seichan had been shot too many times to know that was not true. The wince as the man sat straighter also gave him away.
“I wasn’t about to miss this show-and-tell,” he added.
Bailey frowned. “Dr. MacNab was the only one here who actually saw the map aboard the Arab ship. We needed his confirmation.”
Gray shifted closer, drawing the others with him. “Confirmation of what?”
Bailey turned and removed the silk drape from the book on the stand—only it wasn’t a book. The light reflected off a large gold map inside a bronze case. It showed a topographic representation of the Mediterranean Sea and its surrounding lands.
Mac gasped from his seat. Shock drew him to his feet, his pain clearly forgotten. “That’s what we found aboard the ship.” He calmed himself enough to turn. “But it’s obviously not the same one. It’s in much better shape. And the astrolabe is missing.”
Gray’s face darkened, clearly tired of these secrets. “Where did it come from? Who made this?”
Bailey answered, “It was crafted by a great scientist and artist.”
Roe moved protectively forward and turned to them. “It’s the work of Leonardo da Vinci.”
14
June 23, 6:43 A.M. CEST
Castel Gandolfo, Italy
Amazing . . .
Gray listened as Monsignor Roe recounted the story of a secret meeting between Pope Leo X and Da Vinci in Rome, of the discovery of the design for a mechanical map tucked into an ancient volume of Arabic engineering from the ninth century. But Gray’s eyes