“I think we’re ready!” Finch said.
“About time,” Tonio muttered.
Geena touched Sabrina on the arm. “Be careful down there.”
“Of course. I’ve got these two hunks to look out for me.”
“Well, don’t rely on two hunks. Look out for yourself.” Geena smiled at the divers to let them know she meant nothing by it—she’d used them before several times, though for the life of her she could not remember their names. She could see the tension in their faces, and she viewed that as a good sign. They were worried, they were cautious, and that meant that they would be taking care.
“We’ll want an all-around view of Petrarch’s library first,” Finch said, “starting with what’s left of the manuscripts that were—”
“No,” Geena said. “Straight down to the lower chamber.”
An uncomfortable silence settled, but only for a moment.
“For the documentary, I really think we’ll need—” Finch began carefully, but Geena cut him off again. His shock turned subtly toward anger.
“We need to see why the hell this all happened,” she said. “We did nothing down there, and yet our presence caused the chamber wall to give way and flood. One of our divers is an expert in Venetian architecture and old structures built to withhold water. He’ll see if there’s still danger.”
“How could there still be danger?” Finch asked. “The water’s up to sea level.”
“Mr. Finch,” Tonio said, “Geena’s correct.” He blinked at Geena, his look saying, We’ll be having words later. “And quite frankly, we are the experts here.”
Finch bristled, his team fiddled with equipment or examined their fingernails, but then he offered Geena a soft smile. “I’m in your hands,” he said, and she was certain he meant it. He was a strong man, but not harsh. And whatever his superiors back in London said, he was already becoming more than aware of the intricacies of this operation.
The hairs on her neck stood on end, she felt a rush of warmth as if the sun were touching her again, and when Geena blinked—
A square with tourists taking photographs and drifting this way and that, crumbs from breakfast still on their lips and breath heavy with morning coffee. Sunlight floods in over the roof of a hotel bounding one side of the square, a fountain is spanned with a mini-rainbow, pigeons take off in a wave from a far corner, and the world seems to be dragging her perception onward against her will, hauling her quickly across the square when the only way she wants to go is back. She tries to close her eyes—
“Geena!” Domenic said. “Are you all right?” He had hold of her forearm, and she had to blink several times to clear her eyes of the bright sunlight she’d seen in that moment of psychic connection. The library was dark by comparison. All eyes were on her.
“I … I’m sorry,” she croaked, coughing to clear her throat. “Yes, time to go. Yes.” Domenic would not let go, and she had to turn and walk away before he loosed his grip. She approached the divers, aware of Tonio watching her, feeling Finch’s gaze on her back, and Sabrina paused in tightening equipment straps across her waist when Geena drew close.
“Geena, you look—”
“Don’t take any risks,” Geena said, louder than she needed to, echoing off the stone walls of the too-small room. “I was just thinking about those obelisks, wondering if they were even fixed to the walls.” It was an offhand way to try to explain her brief flake-out, though she knew that Domenic at least would see right through her, but mentioning it now seemed a good piece of advice. “The water might have knocked them aside, or they might be ready to fall at any moment. Not to mention the stone disk in the floor—the one Domenic called a cork. If that’s a seal of some kind, we should see if it remains intact.”
“I wondered the same thing,” Finch said behind her.
“This is just an initial look,” Geena continued. “Don’t disturb anything down there if you can help it.” But what have we already disturbed? she thought. She’d recognized that square. It had been richer than a memory, and she knew what a touch from Nico felt like. She’d been seeing what he could see right now … and he’d been moving fast.
Sabrina and the divers worked their way through the narrow corridors leading to the first old staircase, and Geena followed. Domenic was behind her, and for a moment she was angry at him—Can’t I just have a moment on my own?—but that anger was misdirected. She should really be angry at herself. After this is all done, she thought, I can take time to sort things out. She glanced back at Domenic, and in his uncertain expression she saw doubt.
They went down. Sabrina was between the two divers, her camera held in front of her, cable playing out behind. There were two BBC technicians at corners in the corridor, making sure the cable did not tangle and ensuring there was plenty of slack. She and Domenic watched until the diving lights had faded and the water’s surface calmed again, and Geena could not help thinking they had been swallowed.
“Let’s go back and see what’s left,” Domenic said, and Geena nodded. She noticed that he did not lead the way, though. He was following her like a parent keeping an eye on their unruly child.
Back in the empty reading room, Tonio and Ramus were gathered behind Finch and his team, all of them staring at one of the larger laptop screens. As Geena approached she heard Sabrina’s muffled voice narrating her slow journey down into Petrarch’s library. Even Adrianna had come to watch, steely-eyed yet obviously fascinated with whatever had been beneath her all these years. Geena and she exchanged smiles, and Geena looked over Tonio’s shoulder.
The visibility was terrible. Virtually any dive they performed in and around Venice was marred by the filthy water—silt and shit, chemicals and refuse—but Geena had been hoping that the contained environment down there would have allowed the water to settle. It seemed it had not. Sabrina focused her camera and light on the back of the diver ahead of her as he led the way across the jumbled chamber, and the stark light picked him out like a ghost against the murk. Strange lighting effects gave him glittering wings—reflections from his equipment buckles and air tank, Geena guessed. There was no way of telling how far they had progressed other than Sabrina’s commentary.
“Floor’s pretty treacherous,” she said. “Shelves fell and broke. Some of the books are still whole. Most are pulp.”
Tonio sighed, and Geena placed a hand on his shoulder. We got most of it, she wanted to say. But what she really wanted to see was farther down. She wished the audio link wasn’t just one-way—she wanted to tell Sabrina to hurry. An urgency was bearing down on her, though she could not discern its origins. Impatience made her shift from one foot to the other. Domenic was behind her, a warm presence, and suddenly she wanted his hand on her shoulder, the comfort of a human touch. Because something in that last vision had felt inhuman.
The divers moved on, Sabrina filming the mess on the floor, and then they paused when they reached the open doorway leading down.
“Go on,” Geena whispered, and Tonio glanced back at her.
“Maybe it’s too deep,” Finch said. “Or too dangerous.” Nobody replied, but Geena thought, Is he feeling it, too?
The lead diver started down the staircase.
“Here goes nothing,” Sabrina’s distorted voice said. One of the BBC technicians adjusted something on the laptop’s sidebar, and Sabrina’s breathing came in clearer and louder.