beheaded; in another, the love letters between King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. There were documents pertaining to the Inquisition, to witch trials, to the Crusades, to letters from a khan of Persia and a Ming empress.
But what Vigor sought now was not so guarded.
It required only a long climb.
He had one more clue he wanted to investigate before he left for Germany with Rachel.
Vigor reached the small elevator to the upper rooms of the Archives, called the piani nobli, or the noble floors. He held the door for Jacob, closed it, and punched the button. With a shudder and bounce, the small cage rose.
“Where are we headed now?” Jacob asked.
“To the Torre dei Venti.”
“The Tower of the Winds? Why?”
“There is an ancient document kept up there. A copy of the Description of the World from the sixteenth century.”
“Marco Polo’s book?”
He nodded as the elevator shuddered to a stop. They exited down a long corridor.
Jacob hurried to keep up. “What do Marco Polo’s adventures have to do with the Magi?”
“In that book, he relates myths out of ancient Persia, concerning the Magi and what became of them. It all centers on a gift given to them by the Christ child. A stone of great power. Upon that stone, the Magi supposedly founded a mystical fraternity of arcane wisdom. I’d like to trace that myth.”
The corridor ended at the Tower of the Winds. The empty rooms of this tower had become incorporated into the Secret Archives. Unfortunately, the room Vigor sought was at its very top. He cursed the lack of elevator and entered the dark stair.
He abandoned further lecturing, saving his breath for the long climb. The spiral stair wound round and round. They continued in silence until at last the stairs emptied into one of the Vatican’s most unique and historic chambers.
The Meridian Room.
Jacob craned at the frescoes adorning the circular walls and ceilings, depicting scenes from the Bible with cherubs and clouds above. A single spear of light, admitted through a quarter-sized hole in the wall, pierced the dusty air and spiked down atop the room’s marble slab floor, which was carved with the signs of the zodiac. A line marking the meridian cut across the floor. The room was the sixteenth-century solar observatory used to establish the Gregorian calendar and where Galileo had attempted to prove his case that the Earth revolved around the sun.
Unfortunately he had failed—certainly a low point between the Catholic Church and the scientific community. Ever since, the Church had been trying to make up for its shortsightedness.
Vigor took a moment to slow his breathing after the long climb. He wiped sweat from his brow and directed Jacob to a neighboring chamber off the Meridian Room. A massive bookshelf covered its back wall, crammed with books and bound regestra .
“According to the master index, the book we seek should be on the third shelf.”
Jacob stepped through, tripping the wire that ran across the threshold.
Vigor heard the twang. No time for warning.
The incendiary device exploded, blowing Jacob’s body out the doorway and into Vigor.
They fell backward as a wall of flames roared outward, rolling over them, like the brimstone breath of a dragon.
4
DUST TO DUST
JULY 24, 12:14 P . M .
WASHINGTON, D.C.
T HE MISSION had been assigned crimson priority, black assignation, and silver security protocols. Director Painter Crowe shook his head at the color-coding. Some bureaucrat had visited a Sherwin-Williams store one too many times.
All the designations boiled down to one bottom line: Do not fail. When matters of national security were involved, there was no second place, no silver medal, no runner-up.
Painter sat at his desk and reviewed his ops manager’s report. All seemed in order. Credentials established, safe-house codes updated, equipment checks completed, satellite schedules coordinated, and a thousand other details arranged. Painter ran a finger down the projected cost
But what Vigor sought now was not so guarded.
It required only a long climb.
He had one more clue he wanted to investigate before he left for Germany with Rachel.
Vigor reached the small elevator to the upper rooms of the Archives, called the piani nobli, or the noble floors. He held the door for Jacob, closed it, and punched the button. With a shudder and bounce, the small cage rose.
“Where are we headed now?” Jacob asked.
“To the Torre dei Venti.”
“The Tower of the Winds? Why?”
“There is an ancient document kept up there. A copy of the Description of the World from the sixteenth century.”
“Marco Polo’s book?”
He nodded as the elevator shuddered to a stop. They exited down a long corridor.
Jacob hurried to keep up. “What do Marco Polo’s adventures have to do with the Magi?”
“In that book, he relates myths out of ancient Persia, concerning the Magi and what became of them. It all centers on a gift given to them by the Christ child. A stone of great power. Upon that stone, the Magi supposedly founded a mystical fraternity of arcane wisdom. I’d like to trace that myth.”
The corridor ended at the Tower of the Winds. The empty rooms of this tower had become incorporated into the Secret Archives. Unfortunately, the room Vigor sought was at its very top. He cursed the lack of elevator and entered the dark stair.
He abandoned further lecturing, saving his breath for the long climb. The spiral stair wound round and round. They continued in silence until at last the stairs emptied into one of the Vatican’s most unique and historic chambers.
The Meridian Room.
Jacob craned at the frescoes adorning the circular walls and ceilings, depicting scenes from the Bible with cherubs and clouds above. A single spear of light, admitted through a quarter-sized hole in the wall, pierced the dusty air and spiked down atop the room’s marble slab floor, which was carved with the signs of the zodiac. A line marking the meridian cut across the floor. The room was the sixteenth-century solar observatory used to establish the Gregorian calendar and where Galileo had attempted to prove his case that the Earth revolved around the sun.
Unfortunately he had failed—certainly a low point between the Catholic Church and the scientific community. Ever since, the Church had been trying to make up for its shortsightedness.
Vigor took a moment to slow his breathing after the long climb. He wiped sweat from his brow and directed Jacob to a neighboring chamber off the Meridian Room. A massive bookshelf covered its back wall, crammed with books and bound regestra .
“According to the master index, the book we seek should be on the third shelf.”
Jacob stepped through, tripping the wire that ran across the threshold.
Vigor heard the twang. No time for warning.
The incendiary device exploded, blowing Jacob’s body out the doorway and into Vigor.
They fell backward as a wall of flames roared outward, rolling over them, like the brimstone breath of a dragon.
4
DUST TO DUST
JULY 24, 12:14 P . M .
WASHINGTON, D.C.
T HE MISSION had been assigned crimson priority, black assignation, and silver security protocols. Director Painter Crowe shook his head at the color-coding. Some bureaucrat had visited a Sherwin-Williams store one too many times.
All the designations boiled down to one bottom line: Do not fail. When matters of national security were involved, there was no second place, no silver medal, no runner-up.
Painter sat at his desk and reviewed his ops manager’s report. All seemed in order. Credentials established, safe-house codes updated, equipment checks completed, satellite schedules coordinated, and a thousand other details arranged. Painter ran a finger down the projected cost
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