27
THE STONE
METERS AND METERS BELOW THE BASILICA DI SAN CLEMENTE, THREE people are struggling with a large stone. With their panting, pulling and pushing, the stone has begun to give, wobbling like an old loose tooth. The time has gone by slowly. No one has come down to disturb them.
After much effort, the stone is finally pushed to the side, revealing a large niche. Full of dust, the space is about as large as a shoe box. Barely big enough to trap a mouse in.
As the niche is revealed at last, Joe Vinile raises his gun. His raspy voice warns Ermete to move aside. Then he points the gun at Elettra. “Take a look … rrr …,” orders Joe. “See what’s inside … rrr … !”
Mice in a trap, thinks Elettra, kneeling down beside the gap.
There’s dust. Her hands are as hot as lightbulbs. Beneath the dust is more dust. And beneath that are strips of linen.
“Anyone home?” asks Harvey, slowly pushing open the front door to the house.
On the other side of the door is a dark room with a stairway leading up to the second floor. A few paintings on the walls. A little table. A lamp, which is switched off.
A cold wind howls down the staircase.
Harvey repeats his question and then walks in. The foyer leads into other rooms. The doors are all arch-shaped. The ceiling is painted light blue.
Harvey turns around. Sheng joins him, his face pale.
“Scared?”
“You bet.”
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know.” Sheng looks around. “The top warned us about the guard dog … maybe we’d better not bother him.”
Harvey stares at the steps leading upstairs. “Should we go up?” he asks.
Crouching down on the floor of the mitreo, Elettra brushes away the dust. Her fingers touch an object carefully wrapped in old strips of linen. It’s long and slender, sticking out edgewise from the niche.
“Well … rrr …?” Joe Vinile asks impatiently.
Water gurgles noisily from behind the walls around them.
In the opposite corner of the room, Ermete nervously bites his fingernails.
Elettra grabs hold of the object and begins to pull it out, discovering that it’s very light. Her hands are burning up. Trembling, she rests the bundle of linen on the floor of the room.
It’s held together by a golden seal.
“Well … rrr …?” rasps Joe Vinile. His voice is as pleasant as a handful of salt on an open wound. “Take off … rrr … the cloth … rrr … !”
Elettra turns toward Ermete, but the engineer is staring off into space.
“What are you waiting for … rrr …?” coughs Joe. “Open that thing up … rrr … ! Let me see … rrr … what the heck … rrr … it is!”
Elettra touches the ring-shaped seal. She pulls on it gently, just enough to undo the strips of cloth.
Inside is a circular object. It’s made of iron.
Elettra’s hands hastily unravel the last strips of linen.
She takes it in her hand. She holds it up.
It’s a mirror.
On the second floor of the house is a hallway with four doors. One is open, and it leads into a small bedroom with a light blue ceiling. Closed shutters seal off its only window, and streaming in through the slats are the last traces of daylight.
“Whoever was staying here,” observes Harvey, “they didn’t leave very long ago.”
Sheng picks up a few of the photos and then drops them with a shout. “The professor!” Harvey picks them up again and takes a look. They’re all very similar: Alfred Van Der Berger’s lifeless body sprawled out on the ground. And, standing beside him, the man with the violin.
A shiver of terror runs down the boys’ backs.
“We’ve got to get out of here …,” murmurs Sheng.
Harvey steps out of the room and into the hallway. Trailed across the floor is a long smear of blood. It leads into a bathroom.
“Harvey …,” Sheng insists. “It’s not a good idea to stay here.”
Harvey follows the red smear, his heart in his throat.
The bathroom door is open. Inside is a large mirror, a sink and a bathtub hidden behind a plastic shower curtain.
The trail of blood disappears behind the curtain.
Very slowly, Harvey moves closer.
And, very slowly, he pushes it aside.
“Harvey …,” Sheng whispers from the hallway. And then, the instant he hears his friend scream, he shouts, “Harvey! Harvey!”