Naples, 19th of June, 14:20
Two days before the summer solstice
The pizza we ate on the promenade helped defuse the tension created earlier. Riccardo was good company and had plenty of stories to tell. He spoke of his move to Prague in the early nineties when, after the fall of the Berlin Wall, the city had still been virgin territory. Enterprising Italians had done a roaring trade back then, and they were still reaping the benefits today. Riccardo was one of them. With his homeopathic medicines business Montechiaro, he was one of the main suppliers of pharmacies in Prague and the surrounding area.
Carlo and I listened with interest and in turn told him a little about ourselves. Naturally, I spoke at length of my wife, not hiding how proud I was of her.
“You’re lucky, Lorenzo,” said Riccardo, as he sipped his coffee after lunch, “I go from one woman to the next without ever finding peace.”
I gave a little smile. “You should meet my brother – you two have a lot in common.”
Riccardo laughed and nodded. “It would be a pleasure. And it would be a pleasure to meet your wife too.”
“Maybe tonight at dinner,” I said, looking at my watch. “She’s busy seeing students at the university at the moment, and will be for the next hour. She wouldn’t listen to me and she decided to go back to work, despite the fact that I don’t think she’s really got over the death of Professor Ricciardi. In fact, you know what? I’ll surprise her – I’ll pick her up. I’ve got plenty of time to walk there.”
We parted after agreeing to meet for dinner. Riccardo went to his hotel and Carlo went home. The day was still pleasantly warm, and a stroll along Via Partenope, through the Saint Lucia district and then on to the city centre proved to be a great way of soothing my nerves. As I walked, my phone rang – it was Oscar, who I had already filled in on everything that had happened that morning.
“I’ve contacted our French colleagues and we’ve agreed that Andrea Kominkova will leave tomorrow for Paris. As a member of Interpol, she has full authority to support the gendarmerie and put an end to this story.”
“Hmm… My brother won’t be pleased.”
Before arriving at the university I called the faculty where Àrtemis worked to make sure she was still there.
“Yes, dottore, she hasn’t left her room yet – do you want me to give her a message?”
“No, don’t tell her that I called, I want to surprise her.”
I got there twenty minutes before the end of her tutorials with the students and waited outside her room. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, but still no one came out. Evidently there were no more students to see so perhaps she was tidying up her papers. I knocked, but no one answered. It would be a surprise anyway, so I decided to open the door.
Inside the small book-lined room were folders neatly arranged on the right side of the desk, some reproductions of tablets written in Linear A, maps of Greece and a computer – all things that I had seen dozens of times before – and nothing else. Above all, there was no Àrtemis. There was, however, her work bag. Perhaps she had gone to the bathroom before leaving the university. I sat down and hoped she wouldn’t be alarmed to see me there when she came back.
I waited another ten minutes, but there was no sign of her. I was beginning to worry and the first thing I did was to call her mobile. I heard it ringing in her bag. I took it out and, obviously, the incoming call was mine. It was then that I noticed a small piece of paper stuck under the bag.
For Mr Aragona. Sorry, change of plans. Serpentis hic iacet caput, Àrtemis iacebit in saecula saeculorum.
I nearly fainted. My legs felt weak and I collapsed heavily onto the chair. I read and re-read the note, thinking I must have misunderstood, but there was no doubt. “Here lies the serpent’s head, here will lie Àrtemis for eternity.” Signed IPSI. They had kidnapped her right under the noses of dozens of people. And they would take her to Chartres.
Serpentis hic iacet caput.
There they would kill her. Àrtemis iacebit in saecula saeculorum. Why did they continue to persecute me? What else did they want? And what had Àrtemis to do with any of it? They could have carried on bluffing with those green and red shapes if they’d wanted to force me to help them.
My blood slowly began to circulate again, and I managed to get up. Once I had regained a minimum of lucidity, I grabbed Àrtemis’s bag and quickly left her room.
“Mr Aragona, I haven’t seen the professoressa—” cried the secretary of the department.
“Don’t worry,” I said as I walked away. “I know where she is.”