The Alchemist’s Code (34 page)

“Go on, answer it!”

“Hello?”

“Lorenzo!”

“Speaking—”

It wasn't Raymond's voice. It was a woman.

“It's me, Anna!”

For a moment I stood there, unable to speak. And then the surprise passed.

“Anna! Are you Ok? Where are you?”

“I escaped. I'm in Rome, near the pyramid. I'm calling from a bar.”

“Ok, listen, stay where you are, we'll come and pick you up and—”

I was about to complete the sentence when Oscar's phone rang. Everybody jumped and Barucci motioned me to come closer.

“…hide and call back in ten minutes. I have to go!”

I hung up and quickly put on the headphones. Barucci told his man to answer the incoming call on Oscar's mobile phone.

“Lorenzo.”

“It's me.”

“Commissioner?”

“I'm here too.”

“Hmm, I have the impression that there's someone else there too, but it doesn't matter – you won't be able to locate this call. But this, dear Lorenzo, means you are still telling me lies.”

“You're wrong. I'm trying to fulfil your request.”

“Oh, really? How thoughtful of you. So pray tell, what have you found for me?”

“I have a clue. I went through my grandfather's stuff more thoroughly and it appears that he left another encrypted message. I've found the key to decode it.”

Raymond was silent for a moment, then asked, “What is it?”

Barucci, Father Palminteri and I had decided to give Oscar what he wanted, or at least let him think we had.

“A Cardan grille, like the one I found in Kiev which led us to the Lavra catacombs.”

It was the truth and Raymond seemed satisfied. “Very well, let's say you're telling the truth. Be in Piazza del Popolo, under the obelisk, in half an hour. You'll give me the keys and this grille you have found. But if I have the slightest suspicion that there is someone with you, people will die.”

He hung up.

We all turned towards Barucci, who was no longer looking so smug and self-confident. He shook his head worriedly. “He has a foreign accent, like you said. Maybe American. How can you set up a meeting in a place like that? It'll be packed with people.”

“They're organised, and they know what they're doing,” I objected.

“I don't know what to think,” Barucci continued. “He might be an attention seeker, but then again, he might not be… Alfano?”

“No, Captain, there's no way of working out where he is. He was piggybacking other lines, so the system located four different cells in four different parts of Lazio.”

I thought for a second, and then something struck me.

“Anna said she was close to the Pyramid of Cestius. Maybe they're not far from there either. I doubt she'd have been able to get far on foot.”

Oscar nodded but didn't look completely convinced. “She might have been kept in one place while Raymond was somewhere else, though.”

“Anyway, it doesn't look like we've got a choice, we have to be at Piazza del Popolo in half an hour,” said Barucci. He glanced at Oscar and continued, “We have to involve the Italian Police, of course. I'll take care of it – at the moment I have a direct channel for contacting my Italian colleagues thanks to this summit tomorrow. I'll make sure you can work with us, even if you
aren't
here officially, Commissioner.”

Oscar gave a vague, sarcastic smile. “Thank you.”

Barucci nodded. “Let's go.”

My phone rang again. “Lorenzo.”

“Anna, it's you. Where are you? We'll send someone to pick you up.”

“The owners of the bar were nice enough to hide me in the back.”

“What's the bar called?”

“Bar Piramide.”

“Ok, we'll come straight there and get you.”

“Hurry up, Lorenzo. They've found a clue. I think it's another message that needs to be decoded with a Cardan grille.”

Events reconstructed by Lorenzo Aragona

Rome, January, 2013

We reached the entrance of the Governorate, where we said goodbye to Father Palminteri. “Keep me informed about what happens. And let's keep everything to ourselves for the moment. If things should take a nasty turn, I'll have to inform the Vatican and maybe even the Holy Father himself.”

Thanks in part to Barucci, Oscar had been given authorisation to proceed with the investigation, and they had assigned him two unmarked police cars. We had only twenty-five minutes to get to Piazza del Popolo, but we decided to fetch Anna from Testaccio before heading into the city centre. We were counting on our sirens to clear a way for us through the perennially bad Roman traffic. In the meantime, using all possible discretion, several plain clothes policemen had been informed of the situation and were making their way to Piazza del Popolo to help the officers already there monitor the situation and try to identify suspects. Even though it was quite a way off and the traffic was pretty bad, we reached Piazzale Ostiense in only a few minutes and located Bar Piramide immediately.

When the man behind the counter saw us, he stared at us, trying to guess our intentions. He had obviously understood we were there for Anna.

“I am a police commissioner – we're here for the girl.”

The barman seemed to relax. “Ok
Commissioner
– she's very upset. We gave her a drink and let her hide in the back. She's in there with the owner now. Let me call him for you.”

The short bald man disappeared through a door. “Romolo, the police are here for the girl—”

“Coming,” we heard someone answer.

The barman appeared again, followed soon after by Anna and a good looking young man with an untidy beard and languid eyes.

“Thank you Romolo, you've been very kind. I'm feeling better already.”

Apparently, the owner of the bar had managed to cheer her up, but as soon as Anna saw me she threw her arms around my neck, and I hugged her back, upset by the shocking marks of the violence she had suffered on her face.

Before getting into the car, Oscar looked at her for a few moments and said, “So finally, we meet. You're even harder to pin down than the criminals we're after.”

With a serious expression on her face, Anna stared back at him. “Our lives often force us to act in ways that are incomprehensible to others, Commissioner.”

Oscar nodded. “Please, call me Oscar. I'll be glad to hear your story later, if you feel like telling me it. Right now, though, let's try and deal with this situation. The place where you were kept hostage is close by, right?”

“Yes, on the hill behind the Pyramid. It's a pretty luxurious villa. As soon as I managed to get out, I ran like hell and managed to lose them.”

“Great job. Would you be able to take us back there?”

“I suppose so. Hard to forget a place like that. My kidnappers' boss even introduced himself to me, he said his name was Raymond Severus Woland. He speaks fluent Italian, but he's a foreigner. He's handsome, somewhere between sixty-five and seventy, and he's completely bald.”

Oscar leaned into the car, where agent Grimaldi was informing headquarters of our progress.

“Commissioner Franchi, Commissioner Volta wants to speak to you.”

Michele Volta, Commissioner of Sant'Angelo police station, knew Oscar quite well, despite being much younger. They nurtured mutual respect for one another, but had never yet had the chance to work together.

“Volta, it's Franchi.”

“So, what's the news, Franchi? Have you got the girl?”

“Yes, we have, and we also have her description of the place where they kept her hostage and an identikit with a name that we need to check, even though it might be false: Raymond Severus Woland. He speaks Italian, but he's a foreigner, about sixty-five years old, bald. The place is a villa on the Aventino hill. I'll leave the girl here with Grimaldi. If you can start having the area discreetly inspected, I'll get over to Piazza del Popolo with Caruso and Aragona. We only have a little over ten minutes now.”

While Oscar was quickly making arrangements with his colleague from Rome, Anna asked to speak to me in private.

“Lorenzo, Woland and his men found a peculiar text – a strange little poem, under a church, not far from here. The place was shown in the message we found in Kiev.”

“What's the name of this church?”

“Santa Prisca. Last night Woland and his men sneaked inside and went into the basement, where there's an ancient Roman mithraeum. They forced me to go with them, so I saw everything.”

“A mithraeum… and what did you see, exactly?”

“They dug under the altar and found an empty metal case. I guess it was another red herring placed there by my grandfather. Inside it there was a message. Woland threw it away in anger, thinking it was unimportant, and I'd almost managed to put it in my pocket, when one of them, a woman, took it off me. Woland doesn't think it's important, but I think it is.”

I thought for a moment, then showed her the grille we found among Sean's stuff.

“If things are like you say, and as I suspect, this is the key to decoding the message.”

“It's another grille. Where did you find it?”

“Long story. Anyway, it looks like they've got the lock and we've got the key. If they really are planning on letting off a bomb, this could be a good bargaining chip.”

Oscar turned to us. “Lorenzo, we need to go. I've arranged everything with Volta.”

“Oscar, it looks like Raymond and his men have found a message that could be decoded using Sean Bruce's grille.”

“Are you sure?”

“The mechanism seems clear now,” Anna confirmed. “If we can stop them by giving them the grille, that's what we'll do.”

I hesitated, thinking about what Sean had told me of the Baphomet's power. I thought about Àrt. I swallowed. Playing games with these people meant risking the lives of dozens, perhaps even hundreds of people.

“Ok, let's go to Piazza del Popolo,” I said finally, resigning myself to the situation.

Oscar nodded. “Ok, but I'd like Anna to stay with agent Grimaldi and wait for the other two cars that are on their way here to search the Aventino area. Hopefully we will find the villa. Do you think you can manage that, Anna?”

I looked at her, hoping she would understand that we had no other choice. “We have to stop them, Anna. That bastard Raymond is probably a serial killer and he's threatening to let off a bomb.”

Anna nodded too.

“Ok, Lorenzo, but we all need to be very careful. This man isn't just some ordinary criminal or lunatic. His organisation has extremely advanced technology and a lot of men. When I was escaping from the villa, they used a strange gun against me – some sort of taser that can reduce a wall to rubble. Don't underestimate him.”

Oscar put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “We won't. You've done a great job so far, Anna. You saw that man, and you'll be able to identify him. Your help will be invaluable.”

“Ok.”

“Commissioner, we need to go now if we don't want to be too late,” Superintendent Caruso said as he opened the door of the other car.

“Anna, tell everything you know to my colleagues who'll be here soon. It'll help them find those men. Lorenzo, let's go!”

Oscar climbed into the passenger seat next to Caruso and I got into the back, stared at the grille I was holding and gave a sigh. “All these mysteries and red herrings… my grandfather and his cronies must have really enjoyed hiding all the clues that lead to this thing. They put together an honest-to-God code.”

*

Caruso made the car practically fly the short distance to Piazza del Popolo. It was almost five-thirty now, it was already dark, and the Lungotevere was jammed with the cars of commuters going home after work. A moment before arriving, Caruso turned off the siren and called the operation centre to ask if the undercover policemen in the area had noticed anything suspicious.

“There's a group of young people sitting on the stairs around the Piazza del Popolo fountain,” came Volta's voice through the radio, “but we can't tell if Raymond's man is among them.”

“We'll find out soon enough,” I said rushing out of the car.

“Lorenzo, be careful!” shouted Oscar. “Remember, there's an enormous responsibility on your shoulders!”

I reached the centre of the square quickly and checked the time. I was perhaps a minute late, but I hoped Raymond's watch was at least thirty seconds slow. I walked around the lions at the corners of the fountains, hoping to catch somebody's eyes, but none of the people sitting there looked as though they were waiting for me. Eventually I noticed a dark blue backpack which had been left by the base of the obelisk. On the upper part somebody had written my name in clear white letters and drawn an arrow beneath it, indicating a small paper envelope, like the ones used for business cards, with something inside it. I opened it carefully and realised it was an earpiece. I placed it in my ear.

“Hello, Lorenzo,” said a feminine voice.

“Who are you?”

“That's irrelevant now. Do you have what we want?”

“Yes. It's in my pocket.” I made a theatrical gesture so the policemen would understand I was talking to somebody. The female voice remained silent. After a few never-ending seconds she spoke again, her voice now extremely angry.

“What the hell do you think you're doing? Stop waving your arms about.”

When I heard that tone of voice, some dimly remembered memory stirred.

What was it?

“… don't fuck me about – I've never liked it, as you know very well,” the familiar voice continued.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“An admirer of yours from way back. But we'll have plenty of opportunity to remember the good old days, don't worry. Now, put everything into the backpack.”