The Stone of Archimedes (17 page)

He shook his head. “No ma'am.”

“Could you just call me Toni? And I'll call you Max. It'll make things a lot easier.”

“Sure thing, Toni.” He cleared his throat and continued, “As I'm sure you know, private yachts are not required to file an official cruising plan, although many do for safety purposes. From what I've heard of this yacht, it's quite the specimen. It's supposed to be one of the fastest yachts ever built.”

“Faster than that Seahawk?” She finally found a smile for him.

“Not quite. I can push 150 knots with that beast.”

She nodded her head. “Are you my driver?”

“Sure am, Toni. Anytime you're ready.”

“No time better than the present, Max.”

With that the two of them wandered toward the helo.

The catacombs of Siracusa were a maze of underground limestone caves first used by the Greeks to move their water underground to keep it from evaporating. The Romans improved on this system and eventually converted most of them into a nifty place to perform religious burials, entombing their loved ones for all posterity—or at least until grave robbers stripped them clean of anything valuable. Yet, according to Professor Sara Halsey Jones, much of what remained was an elaborate story of the past, engraved in stone.

Jake Adams wasn't entirely sure the professor was correct, but he wasn't inclined to completely squash someone else's belief unless it got in his way to keep her safe.

They had been wandering through the damp catacombs for a couple of hours now, the scattered lights barely letting them see far enough to walk without hitting a wall or low arch into another room or passage. The professor would keep looking at her tablet computer for guidance, the light from which gave her expressive face a little more illumination. Jake wasn't sure what she was seeking with her research.

“How are we doing?” Jake asked Sara.

“This area ahead is supposed to contain the oldest artifacts,” Sara said.

“What exactly are you trying to find?” Elisa said, moving closer and looking over the shorter woman's shoulder at the computer screen.

“It's complicated.”

“Remember who got you into this structure,” Elisa said, referring to the call she had made that morning to the Vatican. Only a representative from the Holy See could approve of this visit, and the request usually required two week's notice, along with a compelling reason to be there. Elisa had obviously called in a favor.

“And I really appreciate that, Elisa.” Sara switched from the computer to her hand-drawn map from the translation of the Doric Greek tomb in Taormina. “Here we go. Should be just ahead.” She wandered off by herself.

Elisa grabbed Jake by the arm and whispered, “This would be a great place to make love.” Then she followed the professor through a small passage that each had to duck to get through.

Wow. He couldn't argue with Elisa. What had he gotten himself into this time? He ducked and followed the two women.

The lights in this area did not exist. Jake was carrying a small kerosene lantern, which hissed as he made his way toward the women ahead. Sara had a small head lamp on and Elisa carried a pen light. The professor was on her knees examining a non-descript tomb with what appeared to be Greek writing, much like the one they had photographed in Taormina. Suddenly she started digging away at the damp alluvial sand in front of the tomb. Moments later and another stone was exposed, and Sara worked feverishly to removed the sand from the surface. Jake came over and helped her, and once the writing on this stone materialized, he removed a water bottle from his small backpack and poured enough moisture on the stone to make the letters and symbols stand out clearly.

Sara stood up in awe. The stone seemed to take her breath away. Then she took a number of photos with her digital camera, the flash blinding them temporarily each time.

“This is amazing,” Sara finally said as she viewed the images on the LCD screen on the back of her camera.

“What is it?” Jake asked.

“To the casual observer it's just Greek writing, although in the ancient Doric or Dorian dialect.” She looked up to Jake now and smiled, as if she'd gotten exactly what she wanted for Christmas. “But this is more.”

Elisa stooped down for a better look. “How so?”

“My God,” Sara said, and then placed her hand over her mouth. When she recovered somewhat, she continued taking photos as she said, “This is not a tomb at all. It's the work of Archimedes himself.”

“Are you sure?” Jake asked.

“It has to be,” Sara said. “Look, this here is not writing. It's not some homage to the dead. This is mathematics. More precisely it's calculus.”

“Okay, I'm just a layman here,” Jake said, “but why is this important?”

Sara looked like she might faint. Finally she whispered, “Because calculus, according to everything we know, was first developed around the year 1700 by Sir Isaac Newton. Now it looks like Archimedes beat Newton by almost two thousand years. To a mathematician this is like porn. This could be the most important discovery on Archimedes since. . .ever. Very few documents can last over two thousand years. Archimedes was known to cut his principles into stone and engrave them on various mediums he hoped would last through time.”

“How can you be absolutely sure?” Elisa asked.

“Because the only actual writing on this tomb in rough translation says, ‘Rise above oneself and grasp the world.' This quote is quite famous and attributed to Archimedes. This must have been like his signature. Carbon dating will confirm what I believe. I'm certain. This stone should be in a museum.”

“All right,” Jake said. “Let's get out of here and find a way to report it without having every math geek in the world turning this place into a shrine.”

Sara looked wistfully at the stone and agreed with a nod. “Right,” Sara said. “But first we must make it look like it did before we came. The sediment here could be thousands of years old. It was either buried here on purpose, or flooding of the catacombs layered the sand here over time.”

As she shifted the damp sand smoothly over the top of the stone, Jake added a little more water to make it look like they had never been there.

They started to head out when Jake stopped them. “Sara, have you made any marks on your digital or physical map of these catacombs indicating this location?”

“No.”

“Good. Don't do so. We'll have to go from our memory.”

Sara agreed with a nod and they continued out through the low passageway. Eventually, after a number of wrong turns they got closer to the entrance, where the lights were more frequent, yet it was still not the best visibility.

Then the lights went out completely and the three of them stopped in their tracks.

“What now?” Elisa asked.

“The Vatican forgot to pay its bill,” Sara provided, followed by a nervous laugh.

Jake, on the other hand, slipped his gun out of the holster on his left hip and placed it alongside his right leg.

Suddenly there was yelling from multiple locations in front and on both sides of them. Jake threw the kerosene lantern and the light went out. Then in the relative darkness, he backed up slightly against the limestone wall. Only the headlamp from Sara and the hand-held penlight from Elisa gave him any indication of his surroundings.

The Greek yelling, which Jake didn't understand, was followed by additional screaming in Italian. He aimed his gun toward the screams, but he couldn't fire not knowing for sure his target of if one of the women might be in the line of fire.

The Italian said to put down their guns. Greek was probably the same, but Jake couldn't be certain.

When the headlamp started moving forward, Jake yelled, “No, stay put.”

“They'll kill us all.” It was Sara.

Then the pen light went out and Jake could hear shuffling feet coming closer to him.

More yelling and Jake's head was filled with uncertainty.

“Jake?” Elisa whispered.

“Here,” he said quietly.

By now the head lamp was closer toward the entrance and then a scuffle and the light went out.

“Sara,” Jake yelled, his voice echoing through the catacombs.

Nothing.

When he yelled for the professor again, all that came back was the sound of gunfire, sending him toward the ground. He quickly returned fire, shooting high into the ceiling so as not to hit Sara.

“You will not leave here alive,” said a man's voice in English with a heavy accent.

Jake reached out and felt the leg of Elisa. He moved his hand up her body until the two of them lay side by side. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

“Yes. What do we do?”

“Come with me.” He pulled her to his feet and back the way they had come. In about ten feet they reached the entrance to another corridor, which they slid into. At least now they would have some cover.

The Italian continued to yell at them, taunting and trying to draw their fire. Jake wished like hell he had his night vision goggles, but he had none of his usual toys on this trip.

“What now?” Elisa asked him.

“I'm not catching everything they're saying,” Jake said. “Is it slang?”

“It's Sicilian slathered with Mafia slang,” she said. “He says he will kill us both. But not until he's filled me with his. . .”

“I got that. He needs to be taught a lesson in civility.” Jake listened carefully and said, “There's more than one of them. Probably the gunman that got away, along with the driver. Maybe a couple of reinforcements considering the amount of shuffling out there and whispers.” He had to believe the Greeks had Sara and were whisking her away at this moment. Probably already out the catacomb entrance. That was good and bad. Bad because they now had Sara. Good because that meant anything that moved would be a potential target. He aimed around the corner and waited to hear anything at all. Any noise.

There. Jake shot twice and went back behind the edge just as a number of guns rang back toward him, bullets glancing off the stone walls.

“Are you all right?” Elisa asked, her hands touching him.

“Shh.”

This time Jake got down to his knees, put his gun up over his head, and shot once, waiting for return fire. When the flashes came, he aimed for the flash on his left and fired twice. He could hear the distinct sound of bullets penetrating flesh with a thud, and then a body hitting the dirt and stone floor.

More whispers from the Italians as they reach out for their friend.

Jake nudged up to Elisa and whispered into her ear, “Get down on the ground and when I tell you to shoot, send two bullets flying.”

“All right.”

She did as she was told. Jake moved out into the main corridor slightly into a narrow stance and aimed toward the center so he could move his gun to either side quickly.

“Now,” Jake whispered.

Elisa shot twice.

Flashes came from two positions, so Jake had to choose one and fire three times, his only indication of his target coming with his own muzzle flashes. Just as he saw a man drop, he dove to his right. The two of them lay next to each other, their heavy breathing in synch.

“Are you just trying to get closer to me?” Elisa asked him.

Jake's ears were ringing now, so he guessed hers would be as well. One of the men screamed in pain out in the corridor. “Maybe a little,” he said. “Hey, tell them if they leave now we'll let them live.”

“Are you trying to taunt them?”

“It might work. They have two down. I'm guessing they're just guns for hire. Tell them there's no profit from dying.”

She did what he said, her voice echoing off the limestone walls.

Jake had a feeling the only thing these guys would object to is being told what to do by a woman.

The response was easy for Jake to interpret. They called her a fucking bitch, and they'd rape her in every hole just before they killed her.

“Now that was uncalled for,” Jake said aloud in English. He turned on the light on his watch and decided they needed to make a move or the Greeks would be too far ahead of them, even though he had a feeling he knew where they would take Sara. “Listen,” he whispered to Elisa, “I've gotta do something on my own here. It's the only play we have here.”

“No. We can wait them out,” she pled.

“They've got us trapped without lights, without water, without food. They could hold us off with just one guy for days, changing the sentry every four hours. That's what I would do. Now I'm guessing they either killed the man who let us in here or they have some pull with him to keep his mouth shut. Maybe they just threatened his family. That's the Mafia way in Sicily, as I'm sure you know. But we have one advantage. If we can't see, then they can't see. I've been down that corridor and know what it looks like.” This was only partially true. Just before the lights went out, he remembered that the corridor angled to the right up ahead. He explained his plan to her very carefully. It would require shooting discipline and patience.

She protested, “I don't know, Jake. Is this the only way?”

“Yes. Check your watch.”

Elisa turned on the light on her watch.

“Exactly two minutes from right now.”

Jake got to his feet and quietly slipped out into the dark corridor, moving to the far left edge and barely touching the wall with his left hand. Then he moved forward as if he was back in the mountains of Montana trying to sneak up on a bull elk through the noisy aspens. But this was much easier, since the ground was soft stone and wet sand. He tried to tick off the seconds in his mind and then raised his gun as the two minutes got closer.

Suddenly the sound of gunfire behind him was followed by the flashes from Elisa's barrel. Then two flashes came from the Italians ahead and Jake started running and shooting simultaneously at those figures.