The Lost Catacomb (43 page)
“
He
did mention that he
’
s going to work on that now.
Calling in a few favors, I imagine.
But it might take several days.
”
He hugged her and held her close, his
cheek resting against the top of her long, wavy hair.
“
Don
’
t
worry,
cara
.
We
’
ll
get through this together.
We
owe it to your grandmother
—
and to Matt
—
to follow through on this.
We
’
re not going to let
Rostoni get away with murder.
Not
this time.
”
“
Do
you have everything we need?
”
Bruno asked, glancing
sideways at Nicola as he pulled out of their parking space and began driving in
the direction of the Via Appia Antica.
“
I
think so,
”
she replied quietly.
She opened the backpack once more and
verified that it contained an assortment of picklocks, a crowbar, a hammer,
some heavy spikes, flashlights, penlights, extra batteries, a magnifying glass,
and a pair of small but powerful binoculars.
The dark pouch belt at her waist held her
wallet and an extra set of keys for the small black Smart Car that Bruno had
rented at Termini earlier that day, paying in cash and using false ID provided
by a document technician in the laboratories at the Secret Archives whose
loyalty to Father Benedetto was unimpeachable.
The car would be easier to maneuver and
hide at night than Bruno
’
s larger, flashier
Brava, and Matt
’
s death had forced them
to consider the dangerous possibility that they might be followed.
Forty minutes later they reached the corner of
the Via Appia Pignatelli, not far from the Vigna Randanini, where Bruno turned
off the headlights and pulled over to the side of the road.
He put the car into neutral and they
wedged it behind some dense shrubbery, where it easily blended into the dark
shadows.
“
Watch
out,
”
he warned Nicola in a low whisper as they began to
walk towards the entrance to the Marchesa's property.
“
There
’
s
a pile of rocks to your left.
”
He turned on a slender penlight
and flashed it quickly over the rubble.
“
Thanks,
”
she whispered back, grabbing his arm for support as she sidestepped the
rubble.
“
I
probably would have tripped over it
—
and then our
little adventure might have come to an end before it really started.
”
It was the middle of the night, three days
after the package with its disturbing contents had arrived from Greece.
Bruno and Nicola had carefully prepared
for this nocturnal expedition, returning to the Secret Archives with Father
Benedetto to find original reports of the excavations at the Via Appia Pignatelli
dating back to the 1860s.
Together
they had narrowed down the probable location of the entrance to the lost
catacomb to somewhere within an area of a quarter of a square mile, in the
middle of a secluded meadow surrounded by crumbling stone walls and overgrown
with weeds and tall grass.
A small
site map, divided into grids, had been carefully marked to indicate where they
should concentrate their efforts.
After careful consideration, however, they had
decided to return first to the Vigna Randanini to look for a hidden crypt or
passageway behind the wall in which they
’
d found the buried
yad
,
believing it was far more likely that the stolen artwork would have been
secreted there, rather than in the nearby catacomb of the Via Appia Pignatelli,
whose entrance had vanished long ago.
Moreover, having noted the difficulty of exploring the terrain near the
lost catacomb during a quick, surreptitious visit the previous day, they felt
it would be safer to work underground rather than to risk the possibility of exposure
in an open field, even under the cover of darkness.
By
now they were convinced that the Greek and Iberian artifacts stolen by the
Nazis had been transferred to the catacombs at some point during World War II
and that the
yad
, dating from the period of the Spanish Inquisition, had
been embedded between the bricks of
tufa
literally to point in the
direction of a secret doorway.
Unfortunately, however, when they had pried it out of its hiding place,
they had been unaware of its possible significance and had failed to take note
of the precise position in which the tiny hand had rested.
Now,
clad entirely in black
—
with
a lightweight ski cap to cover Nicola
’
s
long auburn hair
—
they
hugged the high brick wall surrounding the estate of the Marchesa and moved
silently towards the wrought iron gate, whose lock and hinges they had
carefully oiled two days earlier in anticipation of tonight
’
s visit.
The
carabinieri
were parked some
twenty feet from the entrance to the grounds, and Nicola and Bruno could hear
the sounds of laughter and quiet radio music being played.
“
Maybe you should take a
peek at them through the binoculars,
”
Nicola suggested,
“
and
see what they
’
re
doing.
I know we have permission to
be here, in theory, any time of day or night, but I wouldn
’
t want them to spot us,
especially the way we
’
re
dressed. We look like a pair of cat burglars,
”
she added dryly, as she surveyed their black
active-wear and shoes and pulled her ski cap down more snugly over her reddish
curls.
“
They seem to be wide
awake,
”
Bruno
replied as he took a careful look.
“
But,
fortunately for us, they don't seem to be paying attention to anything but the
beer they
’
re
guzzling.
I don
’
t think we
’
ll have a problem.
”
He handed her back the binoculars
and she stuffed them into her pouch belt.
Beckoning
her to follow, Bruno now moved forward swiftly and opened the tall gate just
wide enough for them to slip through.
Skirting the inside of the wall, they tiptoed softly through the grass,
with starlight as their only guide, and reached the entrance to the catacombs
without incident.
On
their last visit there, they had also made sure to oil the hinges of the heavy
iron door that sealed the underground catacomb network and had left it
unlocked.
Now they closed it
noiselessly, picked up the oxy lamps that they had placed near the entrance,
and made their way down the long corridor leading to the disputed
hypogeum
.
“
Bruno?
”
Nicola whispered as
they reached the
yad,
her voice echoing faintly in the hollow of the
tunnel.
“
How do
you want to start?
”
She set her oxy lamp down on the
floor.
Its pale yellow light shone
eerily through the grid of its metal casing, throwing a series of quivering
elongated shadows on the walls and ceiling of the passageway.
She shivered in the dank coldness of the
crypt and moved closer to the lamp for warmth.
“
Well,
”
he considered,
“
we can either try to
move some of the
tufa
bricks, the way you did when you discovered the
amphora, or we can try to pry off some of the false tomb markers near the
yad
to see if there
’
s
some sort of hidden opening.
”
“
Okay.
Why don
’
t we start with the tomb markers,
”
Nicola proposed.
“
I
think it
’
s far
more likely that we
’
ll
find a crawl space behind one of them, leading to a tunnel or another crypt,
rather than some sort of secret door built into the walls of the
passageway.
Any opening of normal
size would just be too difficult to camouflage, at least in my opinion.
I only hope that nothing shatters,
though,
”
she said
in concern,
“
because
if we don
’
t find
what we
’
re looking
for, we
’
ll be hard
put to explain how we allowed these irreplaceable tomb markers to become
damaged.
“
And by the way, I think
we should wear latex gloves this time,
”
she added, pulling some out of her pouch belt and handing him a
pair.
“
I know that our fingerprints are all over the
catacomb, but for this little escapade,
”
she said wryly,
“
I
think it
’
s best
that we avoid leaving any identifiable traces on the plaques we
’
re trying to dislodge
or on anything we might find eventually in a hidden storeroom or chamber.
”
Taking
the other oxy lamp with her, she entered the
hypogeum
and returned a few
minutes later with a specially prepared solvent in syringes that she had set
aside previously for this specific purpose.
Handing one of them to Bruno, they
worked systematically, injecting the chemicals into the periphery of the
plaques, one at a time, hoping to dissolve or at least loosen the mortar that
cemented them to the walls.
They
waited patiently for fifteen minutes for the solvent to take effect.
Then, working together, Nicola grasped
the plaques on the top and bottom to stabilize them, while Bruno inserted a
flat trowel and tried to pry them off the surface of the
tufa.
Several of the plaques crashed to the
ground despite their efforts to avoid chipping or smashing them, and they
gathered the broken pieces together in individual piles, deciding to ignore the
damage in the meantime.
Finally,
about half an hour later, they removed an unusually large tomb marker to the
far right of the
yad
, nearly at waist level, and Nicola gasped in
surprise.
“
Bruno,
”
she cried triumphantly
as she shone her flashlight into the gaping hole that was now revealed.
“
There
’
s nothing behind this
plaque.
Nothing, that is, but a
tunnel!
”
“
Dio
! You
’
re right.
”
He reached through the open space
and flashed his light into the dark passageway on the other side, bouncing its
beam off the walls and ceiling, noting that the floor was littered with sharp
limestone fragments.
The tunnel
appeared to stretch out endlessly into a deep black abyss.
“
Can you boost me into
it?
”
he
asked.
“
I think I should go first, just in case.
”
“
Sure, but maybe it
would be safer if you climbed onto a stool and tried to squeeze through.
I can hold it for you.
”
“
Actually I have a
better idea, Nicola.
Bring me
another stool from the
hypogeum
.
Maybe I can ease it through the hole and set it down inside, on the
ground.
That will make it easier to
climb in.
There are too many shards
on the floor, and we don
’
t
want to slip and get cut unnecessarily.
”
He
maneuvered the stool through the recess and dropped it into the tunnel,
managing, somehow, to position it upright.
He then climbed onto the other stool that Nicola now brought and
gingerly hoisted one leg into the recess.
“
It
’
s a bit tight,
”
he said, crouching as
he tried to angle himself through the hole,
‘
but I think I can manage it.
Here, take my pouch belt.
”
He unclipped it and slowly
squeezed through the empty
loculus
, dropping
to the other side
and landing safely.
His
voice echoed back and forth as he beamed his flashlight into the blackness and
called out,
“
It
looks clear from here.
Climb onto
the stool and I
’
ll
help you slide through.
Give me
your hand.
”