CHAPTER 7

image

The grinning goon leaned forward.

“Tell me, Professor, have you ever heard of the Enlightened Ones?” He rapped his knuckles on the table.

image

“I have heard certain rumors about a shadowy group of criminal conspirators who call themselves the Enlightened Ones,” said Dad, cool as a cucumber.

The bad guy balled up his fist.

“It is no rumor, Professor. They are very, very real. As real as the ink in my skin.”

“You cannot work for the Enlightened Ones unless you take a vow,” added his colleague. “And get your knuckles tattooed. That’ll hurt.”

“What sort of vow?” asked Dad.

“Omertà,” said the tough guy. “A code of silence. We will tell you nothing. We swear this on our honor.”

“Interesting,” said Dad with a slight grin. “I always heard there was no honor among thieves.”

“You heard wrong, signore!”

“Do not worry, Professor,” sneered knuckle man. “Even though we two will remain mute, you might soon hear from the Enlightened Ones themselves. They are professors and intellettuali, much like you. They like to play, how you say, mind games. It is very amusing for them to toy with eggheads and do-gooders. So keep your eyes and ears open, Dr. Thomas Kidd. We will tell you nothing. But the Enlightened Ones? Who knows? They may soon drop you a very clever clue.”

After about thirty more minutes of questions, very few answers, and all sorts of tattooed-knuckle table knocking, Dad wrapped things up with the two pawns and came into the observation room to join us.

“Their code of silence is unshakable,” he said. “They’re not going to tell us anything.”

“Most likely because the repercussions if they did would be severe,” said Storm, slicing her finger across her throat like a dagger. Yep, Storm can be kind of blunt like that. But we love her anyway.

“Who are these Enlightened Ones?” I asked.

Dad turned to his daughter with the photographic memory. “Storm?”

Storm cocked her left eyebrow and waited a half a second. That’s the look she gets on her face whenever she’s flipping through the random-access memory device in her ginormous brain.

image

“The Enlightened Ones are rumored to be a small band of criminal masterminds and art thieves,” said Storm. “They consider themselves the new Medicis. The Medicis, of course, were a powerful family who lived here in Florence centuries ago. They sponsored Renaissance artists and therefore owned the most spectacular collection of paintings, sculptures, and art objects in the world. But unlike the Medici family, who paid for the art, the Enlightened Ones prefer to steal their masterpieces.”

Dad and Mom were nodding.

“Remember that list of the world’s greatest unfound treasures that I used to keep in the Room on the Lost?” asked Dad. “I’ve often feared that this mysterious underground group of master art thieves might’ve already found a few of them.”

“You mean things like the missing Kruger millions, the lost Fabergé eggs, and King John the Bad’s treasure?” I blurted.

“That’s right, Bick. If the Enlightened Ones are real, they might very well be hoarding treasure worth billions and billions of dollars in some top secret hidden location. They might also be actively hunting more treasure.”

“Then we need to get busy,” said Tommy. “Beat them to the punch! Find the rest of those super-treasures before they do.”

“Exactly,” said Dad. He glanced at his dive watch. “Anybody else hungry? I’m in the mood for those eggs Bick just mentioned.”

“Yes!” Beck and I said with a double arm-pump. Dad wasn’t talking about a late-night snack. He meant we were going on another treasure hunt: to find the lost Fabergé eggs!

“Next stop, Russia,” said Dad. “This family has definitely earned a vacation. And vacations are always more fun when you spend them together… hunting treasure!”