Naples, 19th of June, 10:48
Two days before the summer solstice
Like two schoolboys thrown out of the classroom during a lesson, Carlo and I walked back with our tails between our legs. Was that really the end of the story, at least for us? Perhaps it would be better to just forget about the whole thing and let the police carry out the investigation, without there being any mystery involved. Unfortunately for me, though, the matter was far from over.
“What do we do now?” asked Carlo, as soon as we got to Piazza San Domenico Maggiore. “I mean… maybe you, your wife and the other people are out of danger, but…”
“… but this story means a lot to us, doesn’t it?”
Carlo opened his arms. “I mean, what about Matteo, our teacher? I feel like we’re betraying him, handing over the final part of his research to these people.”
“I feel the same way. But what should we do?”
“First, tell Oscar to get in touch with his French colleagues. In a couple of days they should be able to get their hands on these scoundrels, seeing as we know what they’re going to do.”
“They’re going to Chartres to look for the Cathedral of the Nine Mirrors, it’s true, and we also have a clear idea of the exact spot where we can find them, but…”
Carlo waited for me to finish, before eventually adding, “None of this is very convincing, is it?”
I pursed my lips. “How are they hoping to go unnoticed?”
At least thirty people – including our brothers, the police, friends and family – now knew where the Hašek codex, the letters of de Sangro to Saint-Germain, led. It had become an open secret. So what did they intend to do? Stand there in the middle of the cathedral of Chartres and stage a magic ritual? There was something odd about the whole thing.
I pulled out my phone to call Oscar, and in that moment it rang.
“Hello, Lorenzo.”
“Hey, Riccardo, how are you?”
“Fine, fine. Listen, where can I get a decent pizza in this town?”
“Which town? Prague?”
“Prague? I’m in Naples, Lorenzo! I’m in a taxi. I landed half an hour ago and I’m coming downtown.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come to pick you up!”
“And what kind of surprise would that have been? So, are you busy?”
Good question. In theory I had my antiques gallery to run, but in recent days I had been neglecting it, for obvious reasons. My head was full of other things.
“Where are you staying?”
“I have a room in a hotel at Via Chiaia.”
“Ok, get settled in and I’ll see you at the Gambrinus café in half an hour.”
I hung up and Carlo looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“The brother who got you into this mess?”
“Or the one who handed us Matteo’s last, great study – it depends on your point of view…”
Riccardo was on time and, together with Carlo, we sat at one of the tables outside the Gambrinus café. The weather was lovely, and there were many people sat relaxing in the open air, perhaps without images of murdered people or masks concealing mysteries filling their heads.
I had agreed with Carlo not to say anything to Riccardo about what we had discovered in Matteo’s lab at Alma’s house,. If Hašek and our master decided to restrict access to that information, there must have been a reason.
I told the Sicilian everything else, and the expression on his face grew more and more serious. When I got to the part where Asar had kicked us out after taking the codex, ruby and the Peregrin Neapolitano, Riccardo slumped back in his chair despairingly.
“Sons of bitches!” he exclaimed, lighting a small Cuban cigar. “Did you at least save a bit of that substance in the tube? We could manufacture another ruby.”
I shook my head. “There was barely enough to make one.”
“And didn’t you analyse it?”
“I didn’t have time, Riccardo. And anyway, at this point, who cares? What would you do with another ruby? We don’t know how to use it and we don’t know what Mozart’s melody is for. Maybe all the instructions are contained in the correspondence, but we didn’t have time to study it in depth – it’s a miracle we got anything. For the last few days, all we’ve thought about has been saving our skin and even though I did my best, there was still a victim. Enough is enough, though, I’m sick of this story, we all are. There are too many people involved, too much pain over the death of Professor Ricciardi, too much of everything. The only thing to do now is alert the French authorities, who in a couple of days, on the basis of the investigations of their Czech and Italian colleagues, will be able to arrest the criminals in the cathedral at Chartres. But that’s something that the police will have to deal with.”
Riccardo exhaled a puff of smoke, then nodded with conviction. “Of course Lorenzo, you’re right, you’re right, what can I say?”
He paused, glanced toward the vast sweep of Piazza del Plebiscito, crowded with tourists, and after a while spoke again, this time in a very serious tone. “But my master was killed over this story… I cannot let those responsible have the last word.”
Carlo, in his priestly way, raised his eyes to the heavens and closed them. He wanted me to understand that he had thought the same thing. Our master too had died while chasing that final puzzle. In a way we shared Riccardo’s frustration.
“Lorenzo, I need your help! Hašek can’t die in vain,” the Sicilian insisted, nervously putting out the little cigar he was smoking.
I sighed heavily. “He’s already died in vain, because he trusted me with his secret almost without knowing me and I gave it to evil people. You know, Riccardo, I have come to the conclusion that the mystery must remain a mystery. If the authorities arrest Asar and his men, that will put an end to all this.”
Riccardo stared at me for a while, then looked away thoughtfully. I knew I hadn’t convinced him and that I had hurt him, but I decided not to give in. I was going to get up from the poker table with my bones intact. For once.
After a few moments of tension, Riccardo smiled and clapped a hand on my and Carlo’s shoulders.
“Well anyway, let’s not think about it for the moment shall we, brethren?” he said, before crying, in Sicilian dialect, “So are you going to take me for this pizza or not? I’m bloody starving!”