privacy whatsoever. Certainly no place to keep valuables.
Perhaps tonight Leonardo would lead him to the spot? It wasn’t long before Roux discovered the man’s destination.
The cemetery was eerily quiet and Leonardo did not look back as he wandered down a wide aisle toward a mausoleum on the north end beneath a copse of oak trees.
Roux held off, squatting between two gravestones, one frosted in verdant moss, the other new, for the name carved in its surface held a sharp edge. The fetid air did not agree with him, and he wished he’d brought along a clove sachet but then dismissed it as another foul situation he must endure. He was tired and hadn’t eaten since morning.
The man’s whistling echoed through the air. The painter was jovial and frenetic, always jumping from one idea to the next. As he’d explained, the notebook he kept secured at his hip with a length of braided leather provided the means to catalog his stream of creative ideas and thoughts.
Roux didn’t think he’d ever need to worry about having so much on his mind he must write it down to make room for it all. Despite his lacking position in a military or a royal court, he did have a focus. And he would not waver.
Moments passed, and the painter strolled by Roux’s hiding spot, which wasn’t concealed, yet Leonardo did not notice him, for the shadows had fallen over Roux’s brown tunic and pants. The painter jingled coins in his purse. A jingle Roux had not heard previously. For as sought after a painter as he was, he didn’t seem to reap many rewards for such work. Roux suspected the man was in debt.
When Leonardo reached the edge of the cemetery and silence hung over the place as if covered by a shroud, Roux snuck down the aisle to the mausoleum that the painter had visited. The narrow building that but a single man might stand inside was fronted by an iron door featuring a cut-out cross in the metal.
Roux pushed against the door and it gave. Not locked. But then, he didn’t see a means to secure even a padlock. He entered the dry, dirt-tainted air of the small chamber. The walls boasted burial drawers, something new he’d not seen until now. The darkness would not allow him to read the inscriptions, so he ran his fingers over the words and names carved into the stone.
Well, that didn’t help, either. Didn’t matter. He cast his gaze about the dark room, but didn’t see any handles or rings to open the sarcophagi. He tested the floor with some bounces on his boots. Oftentimes there was a chamber beneath for more burials. Felt solid.
A sweep of his hand along the front of a stone bench revealed a keyhole.
Roux cursed.
Stepping outside the mausoleum, Roux pulled off his hat and cast a glance at the starry sky. Now he would be forced to pinch the key from Leonardo da Vinci’s home.
He was not a thief.
Until he must be.
Roux made his way back toward the city, well aware of the shadowy presence that tracked a number of paces behind him. He didn’t have to wonder if it were a footpad or cutthroat. Some devils were impossible to shake. And this one in particular had been on his backside for years.
Chapter 9
Annja had only stepped out for a quick meal, but for some reason all the thugs in Venice seemed attracted to her.
Behind her hotel, Annja felt the intruder stir the air before actually hearing the footsteps that quickened to gain on her. She spun swiftly and caught a dark-clothed figure advancing. The attacker put his weight into the lunge and growled, attempting to push her down. She countered by bracing herself and leaning into the person. A forceful shove managed to disengage their sudden, surprising tangle.
The man was dressed in black; even his face was wrapped, ninjalike. He bounced on his feet, clad in black athletic shoes, ready for another lunge or even a kick. Seeing no weapons in either of his hands, Annja reacted with a roundhouse kick that skimmed her attacker’s shoulder just as he tilted his hips and bent
Perhaps tonight Leonardo would lead him to the spot? It wasn’t long before Roux discovered the man’s destination.
The cemetery was eerily quiet and Leonardo did not look back as he wandered down a wide aisle toward a mausoleum on the north end beneath a copse of oak trees.
Roux held off, squatting between two gravestones, one frosted in verdant moss, the other new, for the name carved in its surface held a sharp edge. The fetid air did not agree with him, and he wished he’d brought along a clove sachet but then dismissed it as another foul situation he must endure. He was tired and hadn’t eaten since morning.
The man’s whistling echoed through the air. The painter was jovial and frenetic, always jumping from one idea to the next. As he’d explained, the notebook he kept secured at his hip with a length of braided leather provided the means to catalog his stream of creative ideas and thoughts.
Roux didn’t think he’d ever need to worry about having so much on his mind he must write it down to make room for it all. Despite his lacking position in a military or a royal court, he did have a focus. And he would not waver.
Moments passed, and the painter strolled by Roux’s hiding spot, which wasn’t concealed, yet Leonardo did not notice him, for the shadows had fallen over Roux’s brown tunic and pants. The painter jingled coins in his purse. A jingle Roux had not heard previously. For as sought after a painter as he was, he didn’t seem to reap many rewards for such work. Roux suspected the man was in debt.
When Leonardo reached the edge of the cemetery and silence hung over the place as if covered by a shroud, Roux snuck down the aisle to the mausoleum that the painter had visited. The narrow building that but a single man might stand inside was fronted by an iron door featuring a cut-out cross in the metal.
Roux pushed against the door and it gave. Not locked. But then, he didn’t see a means to secure even a padlock. He entered the dry, dirt-tainted air of the small chamber. The walls boasted burial drawers, something new he’d not seen until now. The darkness would not allow him to read the inscriptions, so he ran his fingers over the words and names carved into the stone.
Well, that didn’t help, either. Didn’t matter. He cast his gaze about the dark room, but didn’t see any handles or rings to open the sarcophagi. He tested the floor with some bounces on his boots. Oftentimes there was a chamber beneath for more burials. Felt solid.
A sweep of his hand along the front of a stone bench revealed a keyhole.
Roux cursed.
Stepping outside the mausoleum, Roux pulled off his hat and cast a glance at the starry sky. Now he would be forced to pinch the key from Leonardo da Vinci’s home.
He was not a thief.
Until he must be.
Roux made his way back toward the city, well aware of the shadowy presence that tracked a number of paces behind him. He didn’t have to wonder if it were a footpad or cutthroat. Some devils were impossible to shake. And this one in particular had been on his backside for years.
Chapter 9
Annja had only stepped out for a quick meal, but for some reason all the thugs in Venice seemed attracted to her.
Behind her hotel, Annja felt the intruder stir the air before actually hearing the footsteps that quickened to gain on her. She spun swiftly and caught a dark-clothed figure advancing. The attacker put his weight into the lunge and growled, attempting to push her down. She countered by bracing herself and leaning into the person. A forceful shove managed to disengage their sudden, surprising tangle.
The man was dressed in black; even his face was wrapped, ninjalike. He bounced on his feet, clad in black athletic shoes, ready for another lunge or even a kick. Seeing no weapons in either of his hands, Annja reacted with a roundhouse kick that skimmed her attacker’s shoulder just as he tilted his hips and bent
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