Archie offered a bit of confirmation. “When my father served in the British embassy in Rome, we spent time up at Lake Como. I did some biking into the Dolomites. Those mountains are riddled with caves and hundreds of old World War II bunkers. If you wanted to hide something, it’s not a bad spot.”
Duncan rubbed his chin, still plainly unsure.
A firmer conviction came from an unlikely source.
“I can’t say this is the exact mountain,” Tag noted, “but the location is certainly somewhere in the Dolomites. So, Duncan’s decryption is most likely accurate.”
Sharyn turned to Tag. “Why do you say that?”
Her friend shifted his iPad and placed it under the Saint-Germain book, which was still open to the title page for the Second Adage. On the iPad’s screen, he had pulled up a photo of a clutch of bright blue flowers with emerald leaves.
Tag motioned between the book and the iPad. “As you can see, this is the plant that Saint-Germain sketched at the start of the section. I thought I had recognized it.Campanula morettiana. Also known as Moretti’s bellflower. It only grows in the limestone cliffs of the Dolomite mountains.”
She stared closer.He’s right...The unusual base of the flower, the number of petals, the shape of the leaves—they all matched what Saint-Germain had drawn.
Naomi frowned at Tag. “How did you even recognize it?”
Tag shrugged. “From my studies. In medieval times, this plant was used as a cure for tuberculosis.”
Sharyn breathed harder, recognizing how each of them had contributed to this discovery: her delivery of the book, Duncan’s AI modification, Naomi’s archaeological knowledge of the treasure, Archie’s past in the region, and now Tag’s herbology expertise.
She sensed the coming together of the threads of fate, which cemented her own conviction. “Thismustbe the right location.”
“Even so,” Duncan said, “what do we do with this information?”
The answer came from outside the library. Gabriel rushed across the entry hall and burst into the room. “Thegendarmesare coming up the hill, lights flashing. Others are racing from the city proper. Mother follows behind the first, but—”
A thumping roar cut off his words, sweeping over the château.
“A helicopter,” Archie warned, ducking from the threatening noise.
Worse, a ringing klaxon burst from the computer. On its screen, the mountain vanished away, replaced with an angry red box, flashing with words in French.
Laurent rushed to the keyboard and typed rapidly. “Someone’s hacking us. Frominsideour headquarters.”
Gabriel waved. “We must go. Now!”
“Not until I scrub our work,” Laurent gasped out. “Before they gain access.”
Sharyn snatched Saint-Germain’s book, closed it, and fumbled to lock its straps. Naomi slid over and helped.
Laurent tapped a few last instructions, then hit a button alongside the computer. A loud snap jolted the case. Smoke billowed out a moment later, accompanied by the smell of frying electronics.
Laurent grabbed a few items from his case, along with the tiny leather box holding the magnets. “Go!”
“This way!” Gabriel urged them.
37
2:10 p.m.
Struggling to tuck away the book, Sharyn followed at Gabriel’s heels. Rather than leading them to the library door, he rushed toward the room’s fireplace, to an alcove in the shelving next to it, full of dusty leather volumes.
As he shoved into the narrow space, a blare of sirens drew her attention toward the front of the estate. A moment later, a horn burst out in furious honks. Then Anna’s voice called out sharply, scolding in French, clearly angry. Dogs began barking—Tristan and Isolde—sounding as irate as their mistress.
Gabriel used this distraction to reach to a shelved relic—a small, tarnished oil lamp, like out of the story of Aladdin. Unlike that tale, no magic words were needed. Gabriel tilted the lamp, and a back section of shelving snapped open, swinging on a hidden hinge.
“Inside,” he ordered their group, pushing the opening wider.
