Now Jake understood this deadly race; now he appreciated MI6’s scramble for every scrap of text; now he saw why desperate men were doing battle from Europe to Africa, why they were prepared to kill. The power to predict the future: it was the power to command the world.
“So you finally worked it out,” said Florence. “Well done you.”
“Does that mean you believe in their Gods?” Jake’s mind reeled at what he was asking. “Are they real?”
“Nobody knows,” she said. “There’s a lot we don’t understand about the universe. It’s strange, strange beyond comprehension. Any quantum physicist can tell you that. All we know is it works.”
“And what of Rome? Was Britton right?”
Florence gestured to the ceiling with open palm. “This is an incantation to dii novensiles, the casters of lightning,” she said. “On these words titan legions marched. Kings and countries fell. On these words western civilization was forged.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Jake, taking a step back. “It doesn’t make sense. Come on, Florence, you’re a historian. Think like one. If the Etruscans harnessed this power, how come Rome conquered them, not the other way round? Why was it Rome and not Etruria that spread across the globe?”
“You know why.”
From somewhere two words rose to Jake’s mind.
Ten saecula.
The Roman legions. The clank of armour; the blast of the war horn; the destiny of so many souls. The violence, the glory. Blade on leather; blood on blade; the Roman eagle planted across the Mediterranean. Through all the smoke and chaos of the centuries the Disciplina had been their lodestar, guiding them on.
“We think Britton was spot on,” said Florence. “And it cost him his life.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
She flinched.
“Who are you working for, Florence?”
The archaeologist closed her eyes and relaxed her shoulder blades. “I suppose you were always going to realize sooner or later. Too sharp for your own good, Jake Wolsey. Which means unfortunately – I must do this.”
When Florence opened her eyes a pistol was in her hand. She aimed it at his forehead.
“Thanks for all your assistance, Jake,” she sneered. “I couldn’t have done it without you. And the above will be a big help. Trust me on that.”
Jake couldn’t take his eyes off the tiny hole wavering before him, nor comprehend the death about to whistle through it.
“This is it, then?” Again he fought to control his bladder. “You kill me in cold blood? Just like you killed Britton?”
“That wasn’t me. Roger taught me everything. I would never …” The pistol trembled. “I don’t know how to …”
“… how to call down lightning strikes?” Jake laughed, though his stomach caved inward. “Hostilius, slain for rejecting the Gods. Otto the Barbarian, struck down on the say-so of Etruscan priests. Emperor Carus, electrocuted on the plains of Persia. And finally it was the turn of Roger Britton.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
Jake judged it the truth. “But that means …”
“I know,” she said. “It means someone else killed him. It means there are people out there who already know how to wield this science.”
“Science? An odd choice of word, don’t you think?”
“But that’s what it is, Jake. Don’t you see? A science they discovered how to tap into in 800 BC, a science we’re only beginning to understand.”
There was a noise of dismay to their left. Berihun stood in the doorway, head alternating between them like a spectator at a tennis match. Florence glanced at the intruder.
Jake charged.