sarcophagus? Or is each combination of symbols unique to the deceased?”
“While several of the symbols are used on more than one of the tombs, the combinations are all unique,” he said. “But to the best of my knowledge, the symbols do not represent anything beyond the whims of those who designed them.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate the information.”
They waited for the priest to leave before speaking again.
“We treat it as a road map,” Romero said. “My guess is that only one of the tombs will have both symbols.”
The layout of the cathedral made for quick work, and they found the sarcophagus they were looking for on the third try. To be thorough, they examined the fourth and last tomb as well to be sure the one they’d selected was indeed the only one with both symbols in the stone.
As they moved around the tomb of the Archbishop Ottone Visconti, the two symbols assigned an unobtrusive spot on the lid at the position where Romero suspected the man’s feet to be, they worked to determine what the symbols and their positions meant—and if the other tomb markings and adornments were tied together. But with no point of reference, nothing to give them direction, they foundered.
“There are several symbols along this side of the lid and lower, along the containment vessel here,” Romero said, gesturing. He pointed at one in particular. “This one is on Intimiano’s tomb but in a different spot.”
“So position is a clue,” Espy said.
Romero nodded, but slowly, as if his thoughts had suddenly gone somewhere else. As Espy watched, Romero retrieved his phone and began to scan through the pictures he’d taken of the symbols around the dais. When he’d cycled through them, he frowned.
“This one here,” he said, pointing at a symbol on the side of the tomb. “This one does not appear on the dais.”
“Are you sure?”
Romero didn’t answer. Instead, he muttered, “I need a pen.” He pulled the cathedral guide from his pocket. While Espy looked among her belongings for a pen, Romero unfolded the guide until he found a panel with white space. Taking the pen from Espy, he quickly drew one of the symbols and then, after studying the sarcophagus for a moment, he drew the second symbol directly over the first. When he finished, he held the paper out for Espy’s inspection.
The result of Romero’s efforts was a near-perfect representation of the symbol that was not on the dais.
“I knew there was a reason I brought you along,” Espy said.
She knelt down and began to trace along the outer edge of the new symbol. A moment later, she looked up.
“It’s not Gafat,” she said. “It’s Latin. Two words. The first is—I’m not sure I’m reading this right—Nehushtan? The second is easier: Cyrene.”
“Cyrene is the name of a Greek settlement. I’ve sold pottery recovered from the ruins there.” He shook his head and aimed a wry smile at Espy. “It’s in Libya.”
The smile the two shared was one of satisfaction, but floating along the edges of that feeling was the ugly fact that knowing Jack had gone to Libya was not the revelation they’d hoped for. However, there was still the promise of the second word.
“Any idea what Nehushtan means?”
Romero could only respond with a shake of his head.
“Give me a minute,” he said, pulling his phone out again. It took what seemed a long while to Espy before Romero could establish an Internet connection and find any information about what they’d uncovered. When he did, he released a low whistle. “I know now what Jack’s searching for. And why Sturdivant wouldn’t tell us even after I threatened to fly there and present a convincing argument.”
He handed his phone over to Espy, who brought it close so she could read the small screen.
“You’re kidding . . .”
“I never knew the name for it,” Romero said.
“You’re kidding,” Espy repeated.
“I think we’ve covered that,” he said, reaching for the phone. “According to legend, it had the power to heal snakebites.”
“I remember,” Espy said. “I was the one who always paid attention in Sunday school.”
Romero chuckled but the laughter faded quickly. “Does your boyfriend ever do anything that doesn’t have quite so dramatic a flair?”
Esperanza knew that the question was meant to be lighthearted, but it had a sobering effect. Now that she knew what Jack was after, she felt an iciness grip her insides. There were simply too many similarities to the last time Jack had gone after a biblical artifact. And since she