Clive Cussler - The Kingdom

CALIFORNIA

The next day, late afternoon Italian time, on iChat, Sam and Remi introduced themselves and explained, ambiguously, the gist of their interest in Francesco Lana de Terzi to the course’s instructor, Professor Carlotta Moretti. Moretti, a mid-thirties brunette with owlish glasses, smiled at them from the computer screen.

“So nice to meet you both,” she said in lightly accented English.

“I am something of a fan, you know.”

“Of ours?” Remi replied.

“ Si, si. I read about you in the Smithsonian magazine. The Napoleon’s lost cellar, and the cave in the mountains, the, uh . . .”

“Grand Saint Bernard,” Sam offered.

“Yes, that is it. Please excuse my prying, but I must ask: are you both well? Your faces?”

“A hiking mishap,” Sam replied. “We’re on the mend.”

“Oh, good. Well, I was fascinated, and then of course happy when you called. Surprised too. Tell me your interest in Francesco De Terzi and I will try to be of help to you.”

“His name came up during a project,” Remi said. “We’ve been able to find surprisingly little published about him. We were told you’re something of an expert.”

Moretti wagged her hand. “Expert, I do not know. I teach about De Terzi, and have had a curiosity about him since I was a little girl.”

“We’re primarily interested in the latter part of his life; say, the last ten years. First, can you confirm that he had a brother?”

“Oh, yes. Giuseppe Lana de Terzi.”

“And is it true Francesco never left Brescia?”

“Oh, no, that is untrue. De Terzi traveled often to Milan, to Genoa, to other places too.”

“How about out of Italy? Overseas, perhaps?”

“It is possible, though I could not say where exactly. Based on some accounts, mostly secondhand accounts of stories De Terzi was said to have told, he traveled distantly between the years 1675 and 1679. Though no historian I know of will confirm that.”

“Do these stories talk about where he might have been?”

“Somewhere in the Far East,” replied Moretti. “Asia, is one speculation.”

“Why would he have gone there?”

The professor hesitated. “You must understand, this may all be fantasy. There is so little documentation to support any of this.”

“We understand,” Sam replied.

“The story goes that De Terzi could find no investors for his aircraft plan.”

“The Vacuum Ship.”

“Yes, that. He could find no one to give him money, not the government, not wealthy men here. He journeyed east hoping to find support so he might finish his work.”

“And did he?”

“No, not that I am aware of.”

“What happened when he returned in 1679?” Sam said.

“It is said he returned to Italy a changed man. Something bad had occurred during his travels, and Giuseppe did not return home. Francesco never spoke of that. Soon after, he resettled in Brescia, left the Jesuit Order, and moved to Vienna, Austria.”

“In search of investors again?”

“Perhaps, but in Vienna he found only bad luck.”

“How so?” asked Remi.

“Soon after he moved to Vienna he married, and then quickly followed a baby boy. Two years later came the big battle-the Siege and then the Battle of Vienna. Do you know of it?”

“Only vaguely.”

“The Siege lasted for two months, the Ottoman Empire fighting the Holy League: the Holy Roman Empire, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and the Venetian Republic. In early September of 1683, the final battle was fought. Many tens of thousands of people died, including Francesco De Terzi’s wife and new son.”

“That’s awful,” Remi said. “So sad.”

“ Si. It is said he was terribly heartbroken. First his brother, and then his new family, all dead. Shortly afterward, De Terzi disappeared again.”

“Where?”

Moretti shrugged. “Again, a mystery. He returned again to Brescia in October of 1685, and then died a few months later.”

“Let me ask you what may sound like an odd question,” Remi said.

“Please.”

“Are you, or anyone, absolutely certain De Terzi returned to Brecia in 1685?”

“That is an odd question. I suppose the answer would be no. I know of nothing that certifies he was buried here-or that he returned, for that matter. That part of the story is, like the rest, based on secondhand information. Short of an . . .”

“Exhumation.”

“Yes, an exhumation. Only that, and a DNA sample from his descendants, would be proof. Why do you ask? Do you have reason to believe-”

“No, not really. We’re brainstorming.”

Sam asked, “About these stories: do you believe any of them?”

“Part of me wants to believe. It is a thrilling adventure, yes? But, as I said, the official histories of De Terzi’s life contain none of these accounts.”

“A few minutes ago you said there is so little documentation. Does that mean there is some documentation?” Remi said.

“There are a few letters, but written by friends. None in De Terzi’s own hand. It is what your justice system calls hearsay, si ? Aside from those, there is only one other source that may be related to the stories. I am reluctant to mention it.”

“Why?”

“It is fiction, a short story written by De Terzi’s sister a few years after his death. Though named differently, the protagonist is clearly intended to be Francesco. Most thought the sister was trying to make money on his fame by exploiting the rumors.”

“Can you give us the gist of the story?”

“A fanciful tale, really.” Moretti gathered her thoughts. “The hero of the story leaves his home in Italy. After braving many dangers, he is captured by a tyrant in a strange land. He is forced to build a flying ship of war. The ship crashes in a desolate place, and just the hero and two of his comrades survive, only to eventually die of their injuries. The hero then finds a mysterious treasure, which the natives tell him is cursed, but he ignores the warning and undertakes an arduous journey back to the tyrant’s castle. Once there, he finds that his traveling companion, who the tyrant had been holding hostage, has been executed.

“The hero returns to Italy with the treasure only to find more tragedy: his family has been killed by the plague. The hero is now convinced the curse is real, so he sets out to return the treasure to where he found it and is never heard from again.”

Sam and Remi struggled to keep their faces expressionless.

Sam said, “You don’t happen to have a copy of this story, do you?”

“Yes, of course. I believe I have it in the original Italian as well as a very good English translation. As soon as we have finished our conversation, I will send you an electronic version.”

GOLDFISH POINT, LA JOLLA

CALIFORNIA

With copies of “The Great Dragon” on each of their iPads, Sam and Remi thanked Professor Moretti for her help. Sam and Remi read the story and e-mailed copies to Selma, Wendy, and Pete. As Remi was sending a copy of the story to Jack, Selma connected with him via iChat.

“You two look absolutely giddy,” Karna said. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What have you found?”

Sam said to Remi, “You tell him.”

Remi first recounted their conversation with Moretti, then gave everyone a summary of “The Great Dragon.”

“Incredible,” said Selma. “You’ve both read the story?”

“Yes,” said Sam. “It should be in your e-mail. You too, Jack.”

“Yes, I see it here.”

“How closely does the story match the bamboo engraving?” asked Wendy.