The Cross of Sins (10 page)

As he slipped into sleep, a word softly escaped his lips.

"Sam—"

"He's sleeping. He'll be fine. He just needs to take it easy." Eden joined Luca and Will by the fire, taking the glass of red wine that Luca handed him.

"Who is he?" Luca asked.

The Professor still stood in front of the enormous window. He turned now and faced the three young men. "Let's wait for Shane. Then, we'll talk. There's much to talk about."

"Jake said something," Eden told the Professor. "A name. Sam?"

The Professor nodded. "The homeless boy. He sees Jake as something of a father figure. He's old enough to look after himself. At least for the short while that Jake's incapacitated."

"What the hell's going down, Professor?" Will asked, distractedly stabbing at the fire with an iron poker. "Come on, give."

"I told you, I'll 'give' when Shane arrives."

"Where the hell is Shane, anyway?"

"On his way. With a very important package." The Professor suddenly smiled and turned his head, as though a ghost or an angel just whispered in his ear. "Ah, here he comes now."

Will crossed the room to the window and saw the headlights of a Jeep cutting its way up the mountain road.

The young college student grinned in astonishment and was about to open his mouth when Elsa entered from the kitchen, a stack of dinner plates and wine glasses in her hands. "Don't ask," she told Will, setting the glasses down at the table and shaking her head. "You'll give him an ego."

Will smiled. "I wasn't gonna say a word."

"Gentlemen," the Professor announced, "please take a seat at the table. Something quite extraordinary is about to come to light. At least it soon will, if we have anything to do with it."

The men took their places at the table. The Professor sat at the head. Luca and Will sat to his left, Eden to his right. Next to him, an empty chair awaited Shane. Fresh bottles were opened, wine was poured. Elsa vanished once more into the kitchen and returned with a large silver dish. A roasted leg of lamb was surrounded by mountains of steaming baked vegetables—potatoes, pumpkin, beans, carrots and parsnips. As she emerged from the kitchen, all the boys pushed out their chairs and moved to help her carry the dish. She barked them back into their seats. "Don't be stupid, all of you sit down. I can carry this. I carried the Professor up a flight of stairs once. You think I can't handle a little bitty dish?"

"You did not!" Will grinned, amused and impressed.

The Professor raised an eyebrow and leaned toward his youngest. "She was drunk and showing off. She had a hold of me before I knew it. And no, it wasn't an entire flight of stairs. The mighty Elsa managed to climb three steps before she dropped me. On my head!" The Professor turned to Elsa as she set the roast into the middle of the table. "If my memory serves me, you couldn't walk for a week."

"Pssh-pssh!" Elsa scoffed. "Silly details." Just then, the door opened downstairs. Elsa shouted over the table, "You better make certain that hat is off before you come up here, otherwise no dinner for you!"

Everyone turned as they heard Shane's footsteps bound up the stairs, three at a time. He burst into the room, a bag slung over his shoulder and his cowboy hat in his hand. "Give me a kiss, Elsa," he beamed.

He put down his bag, rushed toward her and scooped her up in his arms. Elsa let out a shriek but let Shane plant a kiss on her cheek nonetheless. "Now put me down!"

He did so. Elsa fanned herself with her apron, shaking her head as she trotted away. "You boys! You boys! I don't know what the Professor is teaching you, but it's not manners; that is certain. I'm going to leave you to your business. I'll be in the kitchen. Where it's quiet. And peaceful."

"Thank you Elsa," the Professor smiled after her. The boys all called out thank you as well, but Elsa and her shaking head had already disappeared into the kitchen. The Professor turned his attention to Shane as the others all stood to greet him with warm embraces. "You found him all right?" Professor Fathom asked.

"Big open spaces are my specialty," Shane replied.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the treasure from Turkey, still wrapped in cloth. Gently, he placed it down in front of the blind Professor, and then took the old man's hands in his and laid them on the object so he could feel it.

The Professor drew in a short excited breath, smiled, and then slowly—ever so carefully—began to lift away the layers of cloth. Shane took his seat next to Eden. All eyes were fixed on the object in front of the Professor as he peeled away the last piece of fabric to reveal the stone. The tips of his fingers traced the surface of the treasure so lightly, they barely made contact. But with one touch, the Professor knew exactly what the object was before them.

"Gentlemen," he breathed softly. "Behold, one half of Zefferino's stone."

Will looked curiously at the broken piece of stone on the table in front of them, at the small carvings etched into it, the intricate tapestry of a language Will did not recognize. "I'm guessin' whatever that is, and whatever it says, it's gotta be important," he said. "Because I've never heard anyone use the word 'behold' before."

"Important is perhaps an understatement," Professor Fathom said. "Zefferino's stone is revered by some and scorned by many. This is one of two halves, dispersed by Zefferino himself after the execution of his master, the artist Videlle. According to legend, the two pieces of the tablet tell the secret location of Videlle's last work of art. A statue called
The Naked Christ
, known by some as
The Cross of Sins
. Luca, perhaps you'd like to shed more light on the subject."

Luca took a sip of wine and recounted the story of the artist Videlle. "Videlle was born in Paris in 1606 but moved to Florence when he was a young man to pursue a life of art. He painted feverishly; he sculpted figures so real, it was as though one kiss could breathe life into them. He was underrated, often snubbed by both critics and fellow artists alike for his unconventional compositions and inappropriate subject matter. Instead of saints he painted sinners. Instead of kings he sculpted thieves. Instead of virgins he portrayed whores and hags. He depicted vices rather than virtues. He created real life, but that's not how the Church viewed his work. They called it 'evil unpunished.' No morality, no heavenly salvation, no humility or respect for God. Videlle teased his critics by always signing his name upside-down, jokingly referring to himself as the anti-Christ of the art world. One fanatical faction of the Church in particular, the Crimson Crown, began to keep a watchful eye on him. It seemed the only person who appreciated his work was his young lover and apprentice, Zefferino. As the years went by, the constant rejection of his work turned Videlle bitter and reclusive. He began to shun the world, just as the world had shunned him. He sent Zefferino to the market for food and wine and refused to leave the house. He boarded up windows. He became so paranoid of eavesdroppers and spies that he even went so far as to invent a secret language that only he and Zefferino could understand. He wrote a book of translations for Zefferino and told him to keep it in a secret place. Then one day, Videlle announced he was about to create his finest work ever—his last work. He went into his studio with a block of marble and his chisel and did not surface for three months. When he finally emerged, he was a different man. Almost as though he had been enlightened. Almost as though he had been set free. He took down the boards from the windows, he stepped outside the house, and he unveiled to the world
The Naked Christ
."

Luca stood from his chair and moved over to the fire, as though trying to shake off a chill. "The rest of the story is nothing short of tragic. The Crimson Crown, with all the strength of the Church behind it, descended upon Videlle like ravenous wolves. The moment he revealed
The Naked Christ
, he was ambushed. There on the street, in front of his house, they snatched out his eyes and cut off his hands and had him executed for all the world to see."

"What about Zefferino? And the statue?" Will asked.

"Zefferino was no match for the Crimson Crown, he knew that. He could not save Videlle from his fate, but he realized quickly that he could save
The Naked Christ
. While Videlle's tormentors were busy with their murderous crusade, Zefferino fled with the statue, hiding in the shadows of Florence, behind church columns, in the dark of sheltering doorways, until he managed to smuggle the cross out of the city. Nobody knows where he went, but as the legend goes, he carved the details of the statue's whereabouts onto a stone tablet using Videlle's secret language, and then he purposely broke the tablet in two. He hid one part of the tablet in the back of a cart traveling east, and the other he smuggled on board a merchant ship heading west toward the sunset."

"So we're missing half the clues, then," Will said. "One piece isn't going to lead us to the statue, right? And even if we did have the other piece, we can't read what's on it. Not unless we have—"

"The book," answered Luca. "Which is in an antique shop in London, run by a man called Elliott Ebus. Once we have the book, we can translate the carvings on the tablet."

"But we're still only half way there," added Shane. "What about the other half of the stone?"

The Professor smiled. "The key to that is in the other room."

"What is it?" Will asked.

"Actually," the Professor added, "The question is
who
is it? His name's Jake Stone. I've been observing Mr. Stone for some time now. He's infamous from Bombay to Brunei as a treasure hunter, a rogue with a taste for adventure and a talent for trouble."

"Sounds like he'll fit right in," Shane smiled.

"I hope so. I see great potential in him. Fortunately, Eden was at hand and managed to track down Mr. Stone in the South Seas after a run-in with a rather shrewd Parisian art collector."

"Art collector?" said a hoarse voice from a nearby doorway. "I've got a few other titles that'd better suit the guy."

Everyone at the table turned quickly to see Jake using the frame of the door to prop himself up. He was naked but for the bandage around his midsection and a bed sheet wrapped loosely around his waist. Just then, his eyes rolled back, and he began to fall.

Eden jumped up from the table and caught him just before he hit the floor.

Shane, Luca and Will rushed forward and helped Eden get Jake to the sofa.

The Professor stood just as Elsa came storming out from the kitchen. "What is all this fuss!" she demanded. She saw Jake. "Oh, my. I'll get some water."

Through splintered vision, Jake tried to keep focus on the faces looking down at him. He recognized Eden's face almost immediately, but not the others. Then, Professor Fathom appeared over him.

"What are you looking at?" Jake challenged groggily.

"Nothing," the Professor answered calmly. "I'm blind."

"Where am I?"

"I believe Eden has already informed you that you're in Austria. My name is Professor Maximilian Fathom. This is my home."

"Where's Sam?"

"Back in New York. My interest is not with Sam, it's with you."

At that moment, Elsa pushed her way through the men with a glass of water. "Here, drink!" she demanded.

"What is it?"

"What do you think it is? Water!"

"It's okay," Eden assured Jake.

"Who's she?"

Professor Fathom said, "This is Elsa, my housekeeper. And I'd advise you to do as she says. She has quite a temper." Elsa gasped indignantly before the Professor continued the introductions. "You've already met Doctor Eden Santiago, biologist, physician and genetic engineer. To my right, is Shane Houston, expert in cartography and horse handling. Beside him is Luca da Roma, my guiding light when it comes to all things artistic. And to my left is Will Hunter, currently majoring in ancient history at college in San Diego—although given his heroics on the football field his education may well be ancient history any day now."

"Enough with the formalities. Drink!" Elsa insisted.

Jake looked at Eden who smiled and nodded. Elsa pressed the glass gently to Jake's lips and wiped his mouth with her apron as he coughed and struggled to drink it.

At that moment, the phone rang.

Elsa patted Jake's mouth dry and excused herself to go answer the phone. Before Jake could ask another question, Elsa came hurrying back, her face twisted with panic and despair.

"Professor! Professor, come quickly! It's Mr. Musa on the phone, curator of the museum in Ankara. Something's happened to Doctor Hadley! Something terrible!"

For the next few minutes, the room was silent as Professor Fathom was told of the shocking murder of his dear old friend, Joseph Hadley. "Whoever did this was looking for something," Mr. Musa said over the crackling line from Ankara. The Professor couldn't tell whether the line was breaking up or whether it was Mr. Musa's grief-stricken voice. "The camp was ransacked; the workers were driven into the desert. The police think it may have been nomads, but nothing was stolen from the site. Whoever did this didn't bother to steal any of the gold artifacts or silver treasures at the camp. They took nothing. Nothing but Doctor Hadley's life! Who would do such a thing?"

For a moment, the Professor said nothing. Then, in a soft and somber voice, he replied, "We'll find out. I promise you. I swear on Joseph's body, we'll find them."

Nobody said a word after the Professor hung up the phone.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was the spit and crackle of the blazing fire. Then, suppressing all the rage and shock and pain inside him, the Professor turned to the others.

"Freedoms have been lost. Lives have been taken. The time has come for truths to be told, and for secrets to be revealed.
The Naked Christ
is more than just a statue. It is a symbol of the fight against oppression. It's a fight we must win."

Professor Fathom turned toward the fire then, his face orange in its glow. He whispered into the flames, "My dear, Joseph. My poor, dear, intelligent, Joseph. I'm sorry."