The Venice Code by J Robert Kennedy

how I thought you knew me better than that.” He looked at his father and uncle. “We went far enough ahead so that we could talk for a few minutes before you arrived. I knew right away it was impossible for Roberto to have returned to the church then make it to the wall in the time he had. I figured if he were innocent, then Vincenzo had been killed by their pursuers as they returned to the church, and Roberto had been able to run away. In which case you were perfectly safe.
    “On the other hand, if he had betrayed his God, he would have killed Vincenzo, found some of his compatriots, then staged his escape. And again you would be perfectly safe since you didn’t have the idol.”
    Giuseppe looked at his master, not totally convinced that he had been safe on that first leg of their escape, but certain he hadn’t been on this final portion.
    “And now? Despite your misgivings you let me travel alone with him, with the idol?”
    “We had to be sure. I honestly didn’t expect him to make his move so soon. You must have figured it out yourself.”
    Giuseppe nodded. “Just before he attacked me.”
    “So you were ready for his attack.”
    It was a statement of fact that happened to be true to a point. But his being ready didn’t mean he wasn’t covered in bruises and scrapes from his fall, or exhausted from one final bout of swordplay.
    “Yes,” was all he could manage, and it was barely a murmur.
    “Then all is well!” pronounced Marco’s father. “We have the betrayer, he has been incapacitated. We have the idol, and we have escaped our pursuers. I think the day has been a success!”
    “You will never escape,” muttered Roberto, wincing as he tried to straighten himself to glare at his foes. “You will be pursued to the ends of the earth until either the idol is retrieved, or you are all dead. Your victory today shall be short lived.”
    Marco eyed their prisoner, then looked at his father. “What do you think?”
    “I think he’s right. The sooner we get to Khanbalig the better.”
    “I say we destroy it, leave it here to be found, and then there’s no reason to pursue us,” said Giuseppe, sheathing his sword.
    Marco’s head bobbed in agreement. “That’s a good idea.”
    “But it isn’t what the Khan wanted,” replied his uncle. “We must obey his wishes.”
    Marco frowned. “Then we must move forward, and quickly. We will be safe in Khanbalig.”
    “You may be safe there, but the moment you set foot outside its walls, you will be pursued once again,” said Roberto, his eyes filled with hate.
    Giuseppe turned to Marco. “You could be in hiding for years. Decades!”
    “If that is God’s will, then so be it,” replied Marco. “We have rid a city of its false idol and freed a people to worship the true God once again. When this idol is safely hidden away, it matters not what happens to us. Should we die, we die. But the idol will never disturb another soul again.”
    “You will spend the rest of your lives in exile for your actions today.”
    They all turned toward Roberto.
    “Do we need him for anything?” asked Marco’s uncle.
    Marco shrugged. “I can’t think of anything.”
    His father plunged his sword into Roberto’s belly, twisting the blade. “Neither can I.”
     
     

 
     
    Unknown Location
    Present day, one day after the kidnapping
     
    Grant Jackson lay on a cot, his left hand cuffed to the frame, his right free to pull at it uselessly. He had woken here several hours before and determined that “here” was a basement of some type, it seemingly old, the beams over his head solid wood that clearly showed its age, and if he knew his home renovation shows from television, they hadn’t made them like that in decades, if not nearly a century.
    No laminated beams here.
    The musty smell and tiny windows set high in the walls had him thinking a century old home, perhaps even a farmhouse. His head had pounded for the first couple of hours, now it was a dull ache that had