Vatican.”
“So you can take off again? I think not.”
“Maybe,” Sydney said, as she slid into the front passenger seat, “we should return to the safe house. We might even hear something about Tex.”
Griffin kept an eye on Francesca as he walked around the van, opening the side door, apparently to make sure the professor didn’t bolt. “We can’t afford to compromise the place.”
“Can we afford to at least have lunch?” Francesca asked. “I’m starved. And at the very least, we can decide on the next course of action. I would very much like to find this second sign.”
“Do you know of any restaurants nearby?” Griffin asked.
“Just up the road. The Hostaria Antica Roma. A rather apropos setting if I do say so myself.”
The restaurant was about a three-minute drive up the road, and just as she said, very apropos, Sydney thought, if one didn’t mind dining in a place that once housed the dead. “Part of the charm,” Francesca said, smiling at their expressions when they saw what made up the walls of the patio setting: ruins of a columbarium, much like the one they’d just left.
The owner, Paolo Magnanimi, introduced himself when they walked in. He stood almost as tall as Griffin, his dark, handsome features lighting up when he recognized Francesca. “It has been far too long since you last visited my restaurant. Please sit down,” he said, waving his hand toward the empty patio, it still being early for lunch.
When he started to reach for the menus, Francesca stopped him, saying something in Italian.
“Sì, professoressa. The best for you and your friends.”
He left, and Francesca told Sydney, “I told him to bring us whatever is fresh from the garden for a vegetable, for pasta, the tagliolini in a fresh tomato and basil sauce, and for dessert, his exquisite tiramisu.”
“About this second sign?” Griffin asked, apparently not about to let the matter of food get in the way of his mission. “What is it? And where is it?”
“If I knew that, I would have been there long before now.”
“Then how do you intend to find it?”
“By researching the phrase scratched on the wall in the columbarium. If it is correct, it should lead to another burial chamber of some sort. There are three, each one leading to the next.”
“And the final destination? The culmination of these signs?”
“As I said, di Sangro’s final resting place. Until I get there, I can’t be sure.”
Griffin leaned back in his chair, looking as though he didn’t believe a word she said, but was interrupted from saying anything as a waiter brought them each a glass and a bottle of sparkling water. When the waiter left, Griffin turned to Sydney. “Your friend, Doc Schermer. Do you think he can research this for us? This phrase found on the wall?”
“It’s worth a try,” Sydney said.
“Call him.”
She looked at her watch. “You realize it is about two in the morning, there?”
“Call.”
She took out her cell phone, called Doc Schermer’s cell, hoping he kept it with him, since she didn’t have his home number. He answered on the fourth ring, his voice thick with sleep.
“Hey Doc. It’s Sydney.”
“I’m guessing you must still be in Rome, otherwise you’d know it’s dark here.”
“First, sorry for waking you. Second, there’re extenuating circumstances. I need you to look up some obscure facts having to do with a Latin phrase.”
“Give me a sec.”
Sydney heard what sounded like the phone being put down, some shuffling, probably booting up his computer. She covered the phone, asked Francesca to write down the phrase. Griffin handed her a pen and a receipt he found in his pocket. When Doc returned to the phone, she spelled out each Latin word, then said, “It means: ‘Here lies dust, ash, and nothing.’ Supposedly it was inscribed there by Raimondo di Sangro, Prince of Sansevero, as a clue to find his final resting place.”
“Anything else I should know about the phrase?”
She repeated his request to Francesca.
“I’m looking for a connection to another burial chamber. Something with bones. And if it has a Masonic connection of some sort, that’s even better.”
Doc apparently heard her, and said, “Give me a few. I’ll call you back when I find something.”
“He’s checking the info now,” she said, placing the phone on the table after turning the ringer to vibrate.
They fell into a somewhat strained silence, finally broken when Griffin asked Francesca, “Why the Masonic connection?”
“Raimondo di Sangro was a Grand Master of the Masons, and as such was very fond of including Masonic