“The thermometer, the clock, and the telescope.”
“Temperature, time, the universe, all part of Galileo’s sphere of influence, with prime numbers perhaps the unifying quantifier.”
“DaVinci gets all the glory,” McCauley observed.
“Not in my book,” the priest responded. “Now let’s see if Mersenne has anything to tell us from the past.”
Seventy-five
“You have no idea how worried I was. You left without a word. You could have been…” Rich Tamburro didn’t finish the sentence. But, he was furious with his girlfriend. He had started on her the moment she opened the door to her one bedroom apartment. So far Anna Chohany hadn’t given him any reason to back off.
“Why?”
Chohany, still bandaged, walked slowly to her hand-me-down recliner. She adjusted the pitch and tried her best to ignore him.
“Why?” Tamburro demanded. He stood directly in front of her, though keeping his distance. “You owe me.”
“I was mad at you,” she finally answered.
“At me? I didn’t give you any reason. What are you talking about?”
She strained to turn around.
“No?”
“No!” he replied. “No.” He walked closer.
“What about that text you sent from my phone when you thought I was sleeping?”
Tamburro’s eyes widened.
“You didn’t trust me.”
“I’m sorry. You don’t know everything that happened after your accident. We needed to find out if…”
“You didn’t trust me!”
“It’s only because…”
“You didn’t trust me,” she said again, this time quietly. “And you were right not to.”
“Listen to this,” Katrina said. She was translating one of Mersenne’s diary entries which quoted a 1629 correspondence from Galileo. “There’s something to this. I won’t have it completely right, but this is the essence: ‘My friend gives me great pause. He wrote that I have come to realize the significance of our lives on earth is insignificant against the indeterminate nature of the universe. But, as we’ve discussed, we don’t have to gaze upon the heavens through a glass pressed against our eyes to come to this profound realization. Answers are to be found in our midst. Answers that only raise more questions.’ ”
“Feels philosophical,” McCauley said.
“Yes, but then there’s this word: Premier.”
“And?” he asked. “Premier, like leader dictator or leader?”
“Actually no. Marsenne quotes Galileo. ‘La langue qui explique tout; la langue qui s'étend sur le nombre d'années, est premier.’”
“The language, is explicit…?” McCauley started.
Eccleston straightened in his chair. “Close. Galileo says, ‘The language that explains it all; the language that spans the numbers in years, is prime.”
McCauley broke down the translation in his head. Language, explains, numbers and prime. “Galileo is talking about prime numbers.”
“Precisely,” Fr. Eccleston said. “Very precisely.”
Rich Tamburro texted a simple message to the phone number McCauley had given him. It was also precise.
However, McCauley’s cellphone was in the locker at the Vatican; except when it wasn’t for the few minutes that Beppe took it out and checked McCauley and Alpert’s texts and the voicemail.
“Maren Marsenne was much like Galileo,” Eccleston explained. “He was religious, but a pragmatist. Faithful to the church and a believer in facts. A priest and a mathematician. He studied prime numbers with the intent of discovering a formula that would represent all primes and help give greater meaning to the sum of all things.
“He studied music, also founded on mathematical theorems, and published his own findings in addition to translating Galileo. Imagine if the reason Galileo reached out to him was because he made the same deduction you have?”
“Or he cracked the code and needed more help,” McCauley said. “Are there more letters?”
“I’ll check and also see whether Beppe’s come up with anything on Father Emilianov.”
Eccleston went down the staircase and casually walked into the archivist’s office. Beppe wasn’t there. Eccleston stepped out and heard some activity at the lockers.
The priest approached and was ready to speak, but caught himself. Beppe’s back was to him, however, Eccleston saw that the archivist was rifling through McCauley’s backpack. He held Quinn’s cellphone under his armpit and pulled out the old Russian priest’s book.
Father Eccleston quietly backed away until he could take the Tower steps two at a time.
“We’re checking out now,” Eccleston explained in whispers to his guests.
Seventy-six
McCauley rented a Kia Rio from the Europcar rental facility on Via Sardegna. He sat next to Father Eccleston, who agreed to drive. Katrina stretched out in the backseat.
“Okay, let’s see. What’s the best route?” Eccleston asked in the parking lot. He looked at a map provided by the rental office and the variety of routes the GPS offered between Rome and Genga, Le Marche.
“It’s pretty much a straight shot on the A24 until we hit the coast.” Eccleston said peering over the map from his angle. “Then we pick up the Autostrada, A14 North. Or instead of the A14 that whole leg, we can go through some of these towns.” He pointed out Orte, Narni, Todi, Perugia and Gubbio.
“That’ll be slower going?” McCauley asked.
“Yes, but it’s pretty,” the priest recalled. “We’ll cross the Apennines that way. It’s an historic route.”
“Pretty and historic we don’t need,” Katrina countered. “Quick and easy. I say let’s get there today, pack in a good night’s sleep and start exploring tomorrow.”
“Agreed.” Eccleston moved into traffic. He didn’t notice the rented Fiat that pulled out behind them.
“If you discount Galileo’s discovery, which of course isn’t mentioned online, the caverns are actually new to the public,” Quinn explained as they drove north. He was reading an Internet description of the site; the spectacular and now famous Grotte di Frasassi — the Frasassi Caves. “Geologists and cavers really began to explore the ground around Genga in 1948. That’s when the entrance to the River Cave was found. The next major find came in 1966 by a speleological group that followed a branch off the initial cavern. Their exploration led to more. Little discoveries resulted in bigger ones with names like the Great Cave of the Winds and the Grotta Grande del Vento. One labyrinth is some twenty kilometers long. Apparently jaw-dropping.”
“And that’s where we’re going?” Katrina felt her pulse quicken.
“Not exactly. I think we’ll be looking for something off the beaten path based on the more vague descriptions in those later letters. An entrance Galileo uncovered…”
“And the Vatican covered up,” McCauley speculated.
“Not the Vatican,” the priest maintained. “But someone with a purpose.”
The Fiat followed them up the A24 to the A14 and into Genga. The driver held back as they approached the picturesque Italian town. A medieval castle was perched atop a hill overlooking the Natural Regional Park of Gola della Rossa and Frasassi, and their ultimate destination, Grotte di Frasassi — the Frasassi Caves.
One at a time the cars entered Genga through an ancient archway, the town’s original defensive barriers. The Kia pulled into a space. The Fiat held back.