Michael White - The Medici secret

They were silent for a moment, but then the spell was broken by Sonia. 'The CCTV cameras,' she said, her eyes wide with excitement. The others stared at her blankly.

'You might not have had time to see the other side of the key, but they would.' 'Sonia, you're a genius,' Edie exclaimed. Removing the memory stick from the camera in the lab, Sonia slotted it into a multi-media reader connected to one of the Macs.

'You know how to work this?' Edie asked as Sonia took over the keyboard and began tapping at some keys.

'I've picked up a few tips from my brother. He works for a security firm in Milan. These cameras are pretty standard. They record on to these sticks and then they're wiped automatically every twenty-four hours after the original images have been stored on a hard drive. So all we need to do is fast-forward to about twenty minutes ago,' Sonia said.

Most of it showed an empty lab. Then they saw Sonia enter and leave. A little later, Jack Cartwright came in from the corridor and stayed for an hour or so working at one of the computers. Fast-forwarding, Sonia found footage of Edie and Jack working on the body on the trolley. They watched Edie remove an object from the corpse, place it on a table, open it and take out the key. 'That's it,' Edie said. 'Go back.'

Sonia tapped at the keyboard and the film went into reverse. She slowed it until it was tumbling back in time frame by frame. 'There,' she said.

On the screen they could see Edie's latexed finger and thumb holding the key.

'It's impossible,' Jeff said despondently. 'You can't make anything out.'

'Hang on,' Sonia said, her fingers dancing over the keys. The image on the screen grew larger and shifted to the right, stopped and began to grow again. The key filled the screen, but it was blurred. 'Just need to enhance this…' A few seconds later, Sonia sat back. 'Voila!' They could just make out a faint etching at the top of the key. It was the impression of a single-storey building and a word: ANGJA. In the centre of the building were two tiny characters, M and D. ? At 7 a.m., Pisa airport was almost empty, more reminiscent of a large bus station than an international airport. Rose, wrapped up in her thick winter coat, was sipping at a polystyrene cup of weak tea Jeff had just handed her.

'You really don't have to pack me off home, you know, Dad,' she said and ran a gloved hand along his arm, clasping his palm.

'I'm afraid I do, Rose. Believe me, I regret it, but we've had one too many frights.' He felt furious with himself for having put his daughter's life in danger, for ruining her trip to Italy, for exposing her to such horrors. 'I'm…' he began.

'Dad, there's no need. It's not your fault. Look at it this way, how many girls my age get to see such action?' She laughed. 'Think of the stories I can tell… I'm joking,' she added quickly, seeing her father's face drop. He managed a tired laugh and gave her a hug.

'So, promise,' he said holding her at arm's length, 'promise, not a word to anyone, not even to your mother… especially not to your mother.' 'Cross my heart.' They turned as Edie approached. 'All set?'

'Yep. Passport, tickets, money,' she said with a grin at Jeff. 'At least I had all three last time I was told to check two minutes ago?'

Edie laughed and kissed Rose on the forehead. 'We'll see you soon.'

Rose went up on tiptoes and gave her father a kiss on the cheek. 'Ow!' 'Oh God! Sorry, Dad!'

'No problem.' He fingered his bruised face gingerly.

At the security check he said, 'Phone me when you get home, yes?'

'I will, and please Dad, take care. I don't really understand what's been going on with you guys; but maybe it's time you went to the police?'

'Yeah, maybe Rose. Maybe. But don't worry. We'll sort it all out. And you'll be back in a few months, OK?' 'Try and stop me.'

With that she was gone. On the other side, she collected her bag and turned one last time to wave to Jeff and Edie before entering the wide corridor that led to the departure gates. Rose was sitting reading a magazine when a voice announced in Italian, and then in English, that Business Class passengers could board the BA flight to Gatwick at their convenience. She folded her magazine, slipped it into the side pocket of her bag and stood up. 'Rose,' said a voice behind her.

She turned, startled, then smiled. 'What are you doing here?'

Ragusa, June 1410 By the time sunlight had begun to leach across the eastern sky, Cosimo's party had left the monastery many miles behind. Three days later, they had reached the coastal city of Ragusa.

It had felt good returning to civilisation, and they did not dwell on the hardships they had faced. By the time they reached a tavern situated in the midst of Ragusa's thriving harbour, the sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow across the shimmering water of the bay. Sailors were cleaning the decks of their boats and stallholders scrambled to sell off cheap their remaining stock of fish and vegetables. Laughing children played around the ropes holding fast the boats to the quay and chased each other round the nets and crates as the adults talked and drank.

Cosimo was in buoyant mood. The adventure had been extremely risky, but worthwhile. The haul from the monastery was truly astonishing, including as it did a collection of essays by Martial, a commentary on Homer and a wondrous text that appeared to be a very early copy of a Platonic discourse. He had also managed to save a chunk of an original Aristotle text, and, most prized of all, an almost complete original work called Histories by the great Herodotus. They all slept like logs that night, their first in a good bed since the night before the raid on the monastery. Cosimo knocked on the door. He banged again, harder this time. Still no reply. 'Ambrogio… Ambrogio,' he called.

Contessina and Niccoli waited in the corridor behind him. They turned as the innkeeper approached swinging a large set of keys.

'You are concerned for your friend? Perhaps he drank a little too much last night.' The man chuckled and rubbed the bristle on his chin. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Ambrogio lay sprawled on the bed.

'Hah! I'll leave you to help him with his headache,' the innkeeper said merrily.

Contessina held Tommasini's hand. 'Ambrogio,' she whispered. He twitched when she called him again, and his eyes flicked open. 'You look terrible,' Cosimo said. 'Thought you could hold your drink a bit better than that!'

He stopped suddenly at the corner of Tommasini's bed. The floor was smeared with blood and a foul-looking yellow liquid. Lying on its back, fangs drawn back, was a large brown rat. A huge tumour, almost the size of its cranium had sprouted on its head. Its eyes were still open, and tracks of dried blood ran down its fur. 'Ambrogio, are you sick?' Contessina cried.

Tommasini tried to sit up. Wincing, he grabbed his forehead. His eyes were ringed in black, lips dried and cracked, skin deathly pale. 'I, I couldn't sleep.' His voice sounded brittle.

'What on earth's this?' Cosimo said, pointing to the floor. Tommasini looked down at the floor and turned away quickly. 'My God! Poison?' he croaked. 'I hope it's just that… I really do.' Silver stars punctured the ebony of night as Cosimo leaned on the rail of the ship and looked out at the inky calm of the ocean. The Zadar, the trade ship they had boarded at Ragusa was fast, but no vessel could be fast enough for him. All he wanted was to be home, to walk the streets of Florence and to have time to study the great treasures they had saved from the barbaric Stasanor.

A voyage of seven days hugging the coast north then bearing west and south would bring them to Ancona, which meant giving Venice a wide berth. It would be a two-day ride before they reached home. Feeling suddenly cold, Cosimo pulled tight a rough woollen blanket he had draped across his shoulders. Cosimo was awoken by a shrill scream. Pulling on his breeches in the dark, he nearly lost his footing. Emerging on to the deck, he saw Niccoli and Contessina appear from the stern. They looked bleary-eyed in the cold grey of early morning. A young crewman came rushing towards them, his eyes black with shock. Cosimo was about to grab him when he heard the captain's voice.