“My God,” Kellogg gasped. “You just incinerated them.”
“No, no,” Paolo said, his expression equally horrified at the prospect. “Is simulation.”
“I thought you said this thing wasn’t working,” Jade said. Green blobs floated in front of her eyes. “Looks like it worked pretty well to me.”
Paolo shook his head. “Blinding guests, no good for business.”
“Good for us though.”
“Si.” Paolo rose and moved to the door. “But their eyes will recover and they still have guns. We must go. I take you somewhere safe.”
Jade was having trouble reading the Italian’s face through the retinal fireworks caused by the flash, but his willingness to help set alarm bells ringing in her head.
“Maybe we should call the police,” Kellogg suggested. Although it had become something of a signature comment for him, in this instance Jade was inclined to agree.
Paolo seemed to be scrutinizing them. “And will you tell the carabinieri about the Vault of Archimedes?”
Jade’s internal alarm bells got even louder, but before she could figure out an appropriate response, Paolo waved urgently. “I have the answers you seek, but right now we must go. Quickly.”
The promise of answers was enough to help Jade overcome her wariness. Paolo was clearly more than just a humble museum guide, but the mere fact that he had a secret life did not automatically make him an enemy. She nodded and followed.
Paolo led them back down a short flight of stairs and past the hidden door behind the galley model, to a long access corridor. He stopped at the door leading to the fire stairs, opened it a sliver and peeked through. After a moment, he threw it wide open. “Come.”
He crossed to a door on the opposite side of the stairwell and again checked that the coast was clear before venturing outside. The fire exit let out into a narrow alley between the museum and a neighboring building. Paolo hurried them to the far end, away from the piazza, to a back street crowded with parked cars. He stopped in front of one, a boxy red two-door Fiat hatchback. Jade wasn’t much of a car person, but Jade guessed it was probably as old as she. As Paolo slotted his key into the lock, she realized that this was their escape vehicle.
“Shotgun!” Both Paolo and Kellogg began looking around in alarm, so she clarified. “Dibs on the front seat.”
“Si, of course,” Paolo said, opening his door and working the lever to tilt the seat forward. He turned gestured for Kellogg to get in.
Kellogg turned to Jade. “Maybe we should talk about this first?”
“What’s there to talk about? Paolo here just saved our bacon. And he can tell us about the vault.” She opened the passenger door and glanced at their new benefactor. “You can tell us about the vault, right Paolo?”
“Si. But not here. Not where they can find us.”
She turned back to Kellogg. “See? Let’s go.”
Her cavalier attitude was a put-on. The age-old wisdom of countless generations of parents — don’t get in cars with strangers — was echoing in her head. Her gut told her that Paolo was harmless, yet there was clearly more to him than met the eye, and that unknown quantity concerned her. But if he did know something about the vault, then it was worth the risk.
He navigated the back streets with easy familiarity, eventually merging into the chaos of the main thoroughfares. Jade knew she ought to be paying attention to where they were, but her gaze kept drifting to the faces of the people around them, pedestrians at sidewalk cafes, the drivers of the vehicles they passed. Every attack she had survived had come seemingly from out of the blue. Whether they were Muslim extremists or something else, the enemy stalking her seemed to have the ability to blend into the woodwork. Were they, even now, watching her every move? Tracking her somehow?
The thought sent an electric shock through her. They were tracking her. She would have to do a head-to-toe search for tracking chips…Kellogg, too, but the most obvious way for them to keep tabs on her was by pinging the GPS in her smart phone. She dug the device from her pocket and stared at it as she might a ticking time bomb.
The phone was her lifeline, her only means of staying in contact with Professor. She could write down his number, but if she threw her phone away, he would have no way of reaching her.
And what if I’m wrong?
If she was wrong, then it wouldn’t matter what she did. They would find her again.
She tapped out a quick text message to Professor, letting him know that she was about to go dark then shut the phone off. “I need a paper clip. Or a safety pin.”
Paolo glanced over at her, then pointed to the glove compartment.
“Why?” Kellogg asked, leaning over the seat.
“I’m going to pull the SIM card on my phone.” The glove box contained a sheaf of paper held together by a paper clip. She removed it and unbent a section, which she then used to depress the release on the side of her phone. Removing the SIM card would make it impossible for anyone to track the phone remotely but still give her the option of using it again if the need arose. “They might be tracking me that way.”
Kellogg’s eyes went wide. “Should I do that too?”
“Might be a good idea.” She handed him the paper clip, and then shoved both her phone and the SIM card into a pocket. She saw Paolo nod in approval. “That should keep them off our backs for a while,” she said, meeting the Italian’s stare. “Now, how about those answers?”
“I will tell you what I know, but first, tell me please, how did you learn of the vault?”
Jade cocked her head sideways. “Answering a question with a question. That’s not a great way to start a conversation. Do you actually know something, or are you just stringing us along?”
“Ah, pardon me. I meant no offense. I am wondering because, you see, I thought that all knowledge of the vault had been lost forever.”
“Obviously not. You know something about it.”
“Si, si. But is a very closely guarded secret. Those who know would never share it with…” He smiled. “The uninitiated.”
Jade stared at him for a moment. “Uninitiated? Oh, wonderful. You’re part of a secret society, aren’t you? I really hate secret societies.”
Paolo just laughed.
“Let me guess,” Jade went on. “You are modern descendants of the Society of Syracuse, entrusted with preserving Archimedes’ secrets. I guess it makes sense that you would be the one running the Arkimedeion. Though frankly, I would have expected it to be in a little better shape.”
“Better shape?” The Italian seemed amused by her assessment. He waved a hand. “Everything in the Arkimedeion works exactly as it was meant to. Some people, they see a broken thing and want to throw it away. Others see the same thing, and want to fix it.”
“Oh, so it’s a test. To see who’s worthy to join your little club.”
“A test. A game. It is not so hard to join.” He turned the Fiat off the road and drove down a side street until he found a parking spot.
“Really? You guys have a website or something? Society of Syracuse dot com?”
“I do not know this Society of Syracuse you speak of.”
He gestured through the windshield toward their destination, a modest office building with dark windows and no signage, save for a small brass plaque affixed to the front. The words on the sign were in Italian, but a translation was unnecessary. The symbol at the center of the plaque — a drafting compass and a carpenter’s square, arranged to form what looked almost like six-pointed star — was known universally. It was the same symbol, Jade now realized, that appeared on Paolo’s signet ring.