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*
IT WAS 7 a.m., and Eric was sitting at his preferred chair in his favorite spot in the House of the Rose dining room.
He had finished his breakfast and was sipping his coffee, looking at the empty seat on the other side of the table. They were supposed to go to the shooting range, Floriana and he, where Floriana would have her first shooting lesson. They had arranged to meet at 6:30 for breakfast, but half an hour had passed, and she hadn't shown up yet. Eric decided to wait ten more minutes. Girls always spend extra time preening themselves, he thought. Not that Floriana needed to put in much effort. She was a beautiful girl, a breath of fresh air, and smelled like a bouquet of roses. He remembered the first time he met her. She was standing under the shadow of the ancient Greek temple of Poseidon at Cape Sounion, awed by the beauty of the white marble columns. With her unruly red hair and dusty shoes, he had the feeling the moment he saw her that she would easily fall into his trap. She looked so clumsy and naïve; she would be an easy target for him. He was trained to manipulate people, after all; his good looks, his trained body, his courteous manners, they had all been products of the training agents of the Order had to go through. The first thing they were taught by their mentors was that the more well-looking and well-mannered an agent was, the more effectively they could manipulate their targets. However, Floriana proved to be anything but naïve. During their adventure in Germany, he was impressed by the strength and the courage Floriana demonstrated, and it was then he realized his admiration for her. Her emails in the correspondence they developed in the years that followed showed a passionate girl, thirsty for life and adventures, yet matured and cultivated. A hidden gem.
He intuited that a talented agent was hidden under her unruly curls and her baggy clothes. They had a good connection; they seemed to be on the same wavelength. Confident they would make a great team; Eric asked the Grand Master that they be partnered. Although not excited, Ganni de Paul eventually approved Floriana’s promotion to field agent, but only if Eric was her mentor. The Master trusted Eric. He knew that he would give his life to keep Floriana safe. He had only given him one warning. “Don’t you ever hurt her feelings,” the Master had warned him, pointing his finger. And his words came back to mind when he so greedily kissed her in that empty Mdina alley. It was not only his mentor’s words that struck him; it was also the realization that he loved her too much to hurt her. Only, what he did not know was what kind of love that was.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him. It was Carson, who had dragged a chair away from a table and was seated, ready to enjoy a cup of steamy coffee. After nodding a good morning, Eric checked his watch. It was half-past seven—Floriana was one hour late.
“That’s a bad start,” Eric muttered as he stood up. He strode out of the dining room and after hurriedly climbing the stairs; he stood outside Floriana’s bedroom.
“Hey, Ninja, wake up,” he uttered playfully. “Floriana, wake up, we’ll be late to the shooting lesson,” he said in a strict tone, but he received no answer. Uncomprehending the lack of response, he put his hand on the door handle, and after he turned it slowly, he opened the door slightly. Darkness and silence welcomed him. Floriana’s bed was made, her backpack was placed neatly on an armchair, and everything was tidily arranged.
“Are you in there?” Eric asked loudly as he knocked on the ensuite bathroom door. “Don’t make me come in there,” he joked. No response. “Okay, I hope you’re decent, cause I’m coming in,” he said awkwardly. The enticing aroma of roses filled his nostrils. The tiles were clean and shining, the towels were fluffy, but Floriana was not there.
Eric pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Floriana’s number. It went unanswered, but the phone was not turned off. His tapped the Find Your Agent’s phone application which Bill, Valerie’s son, had created and called Floriana’s number again. A red dot started blinking on a map, showing that the signal from Floriana’s phone was coming from within the House of the Rose. He tapped a small icon on the screen, and a detailed map of the House appeared, indicating that the signal was coming from the basement. Bill, you are a genius, he thought as he realized that the application did not just show her dot as being part of the house, but it was able to pinpoint the basement.
“Is there even a basement?” he asked himself loudly. He ran down the hallway and knocked the door of the Master’s bedroom.
“Is there a basement? In this building, is there a basement?” he inquired, puffing when the old man opened the door.
“Good morning to you too,” the Master replied, annoyed by the intrusion. He was dressed in suit, as every day, with his staff in hand.
“I’m sorry. But it’s serious. Is there a basement?” Eric insisted.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because Floriana is missing, and her phone signal is coming from somewhere underground, beneath where we are standing,” Eric explained, out of breath.
“Floriana is missing? Maybe she’s gone for a walk. Wait, are you spying on her?”
“Actually, with this application Bill has created, I can spy on everyone. I’m sure something is wrong. We were supposed to meet at 6:30, have breakfast and then go for shooting training. I know how excited she was about it—she wouldn’t have missed it for a walk,” Eric explained.
“You are right. Come with me,” the Master said as he started limping down the hallway, his black silver staff in his hand. Eric followed him silently, trying to catch his breath.
“There is a basement indeed,” the Master said after they entered his study.
“And why I was never told?” Eric asked, flustered.
“Because you wouldn’t have gained anything by this knowledge,” the Master replied strictly, closing the door behind them.
His gaze fell upon the corner of his desk that Floriana had left on the surface of the heavy furniture. “How on earth did this happen?” the Master yelled, disconcerted.
Despite his aching legs, the Master walked as fast as he could to his desk and took the angular piece of wood in his hand. “Do you see this? It’s the key to that door over there!” He showed him the sliding door, which was now wide open. “And that door was supposed to stay closed for everyone except me,” he exclaimed.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t even know this door existed until now,” Eric grumped. After checking on the blinking red dot again, he approached the door and looked inside the dark, cold space. “It seems that her phone is signaling from down there. I’m going down to check it out,” he stated.
“Wait, take this with you. You’ll need it,” the Master said as he took a flashlight out of one of his desk drawers. “I can’t understand how on earth she would end up down there. This door has been closed for years. How could she manage to open it?”
“She’s your blood, remember?” Eric cackled before he started descending the slopping stone stairs.
***
ERIC DROPPED ALL HIS weight into one of the leather armchairs in the Master's study room, where the door to the mysterious crypt was once again firmly closed. He felt three pairs of eyes staring at him, full of agony and anticipation. Ganni, Valerie, and Carson were hoping to hear some good news from him. But he did not have any to share. He had been searching for Floriana the entire day. After they all looked in every corner of the House of the Rose, even Mirko and Elena, the cook, joined the search party as they separated and comped every Valletta street and piazza. The sun had started to set when Eric took his car and expanded the search to Birgu town. It was afternoon when he finally returned the Order’s headquarters, exhausted and disappointed.
“It's like she vanished into thin air,” he said.
“I drove to the international airport. No one saw her there, nor was her name was on any flight list. It's improbable that she left Malta by airplane,” said Carson.
“I went to the Marina and showed a picture of hers to every passerby and yacht owner. Her face looked familiar to no one,” added Valerie.
“Mirko called every hospital and embassy on the island. No one under her name or with features like hers had been reported the last twenty-four hours,” the Master said, disheartened.
“There must be a logical explanation; she can’t just have disappeared. Or evaporated,” Eric concluded.
A veil of silence covered them, as everyone was lost in their thoughts.
“We have to cancel tomorrow's summit of the masters,” Ganni finally said in trembling voice. “No, we won't cancel it,” he continued. “The Order of the Black Rose surpasses any personal or family issues. The Macedonia incident and all scientific findings Duclan presented us with indicates that we are at the beginning of an outbreak. The Order was founded to serve the greater good, and now the world needs us. Let's hope Floriana is playing a prank on us. I'll take care of it when she returns. As long as she returns,” the Master said.
Silence reigned again as all four of them dived into their own thoughts.
“Where is Duclan?” Eric's voice broke the silence.
“He left right after our meeting last night. I asked him if he wished for transportation, but he said that Washington had provided him with a private jet to make the trip, and after he left the house, he would go straight to the airport via rental. He didn’t have luggage with him, just the keys of the car he had rented,” Valerie explained.
“Did anyone else find him weird, or it was just me?” asked Carson.
They looked each other, baffled.
“I wouldn’t call it weird, but I have to admit, he made me feel uncomfortable. Those icy eyes of his...” Valerie shivered.
“I called Washington before I met with him and I received excellent references for him,” the Master said and frowned. “Valerie, call them again. Let them know that Dr. Davis is on his way back. Request a briefing regarding the situation in Macedonia village and"—he paused briefly—"ask them about President Alvarez's whereabouts. Inquire about information on the scientific team that accompanies her during her inspection in Macedonia. Especially ask about a female scientist with silver curly hair.”
Valerie nodded with a questioning look that the Master avoided.
“And send Mirko home. Tomorrow will be a long day for him. Masters across the world will gather here tomorrow night, and I need him fresh and well rested.”
With a tired smile on her beautifully mature face, Valerie exited the room.
“I’m starving. Elena is making lunch. Will you join us in the dining room?” asked Carson.
“Eric will join you. Tell Elena to put the kettle on. I need a cup of tea,” the Master said.
“I'll join you in few minutes,” Eric said as Carson left the study room.
“How are you?” he asked his mentor.
“Don’t worry about me. I hope Floriana is back before I have to tell Vittor that his sister is missing.”
After a short silence, Eric cleared his throat, and then asked the question that had been puzzling him for hours. “What’s in that basement?”
“Relics of the Order’s past. Remnants of our glorious history, valuable antiquities our ancestors owned, modern technology our scientists created ... I can only imagine how thrilled Floriana felt when she discovered it. But why would she leave without leaving a note behind? I would have scolded her for sneaking in there without my permission, but I wouldn’t discipline her. That’s what we train her to be; curious and courageous, even if that sometimes means insubordinate behavior. And why did she leave the door open? Had she placed the wooden corner back on, no one would have known that she had found the way to the crypt. And as far as I can tell, she didn’t take anything from down there. Despite my aching knees, I managed to go down the staircase and take a look around. Nothing seems to be missing, although I need to check again across my inventory,” the Master said, crossing his arms.
“Why did you keep it secret from me?” Eric insisted.
“Because it wasn’t for you to know. Only the Grand Master of the Order has the key to this crypt. And they share the secret only with the person who will succeed them after they die. In my case, that would be Valerie. She is second in the hierarchy of the Order and the one who will take over as Grand Master of the Order of the Wild Rose once I pass away,” Ganni said quietly. “Now, go and have your lunch. When Floriana comes back, I’ll send her to you. As her mentor, you’re responsible for her detention.” He smirked.
Eric stood up and was walking towards the door when the old-fashioned landline phone on Ganni’s desk rang. With his hand on the door handle, he turned around and looked at his mentor.
“Vittor, son, how are you doing?” asked the Master, and his face lit up. But that didn’t last long, as an emotional carousel took over the old man’s face. His heavy-lidded eyes opened wide with surprise before shadowing in an expression of concern.
“You did what? ... But how...? Floriana? Is she there with you? ... Conspiracy? What are you talking about? ... What has the president to do with that? ... Who? Who did you say? Your ... your ... this can’t be true! It’s impossible! She’s ... I know she’s ... Hold on, son. Don’t do anything. We’re coming there for you.”
Pale as a ghost, Ganni De Paul placed the headset back onto its cradle and turned his gaze at Eric, who was standing quiet in front of the door.
“Please, call Valerie in. She will replace me as chairman of the board in the Masters’ summit,” the old man said as he trembled in his effort to stand.
“Why? Are you going somewhere?” Eric asked bewildered.
“I’m going to meet the President of the United States. And you’re coming with me.”