The Venice conspiracy

Lydia puckers like she's bitten a lemon. 'How unpleasant.'

'Ermanno thinks it's part of something called the Gates of Destiny.'

'Does he, indeed? Well, I hope it makes a lot of money for him, for you and for the mad monk who wants to sell it.'

'And for Efran. He will want his cut.' Tanina reaches down and waggles her empty glass at her hostess.

Lydia goes to retrieve the wine bottle. 'That scoundrel always does. Though, he did get me some very beautiful jewellery last year. Pearls. A gorgeous necklace that goes perfectly with a blue silk bodice I've had made.'

She refills their glasses, then walks over to an elegant walnut dresser positioned beneath a long Venetian mirror. 'What do you think of these?' She holds up two handmade stick masks. Both are elegant and ornate. The first is a red-and-gold trapunto uomo. The second an ivory-and-silver trapunto donna.

Tanina squints at them. 'I like the donna. The uomo is a little aggressive for my taste.'

Lydia picks them both up and puts the uomo to her face. 'This is definitely more me. You can have the submissive donna.' She smiles and hands it to her friend. 'What say we finish this wine and then join the Carnevale? There is a ball tonight in Santa Croce. A wild one. You need to get out and learn more about the follies of men, and I urgently need one between my thighs.'

CAPITOLO XLVII 1778

Canal Grande, Venezia Masked revellers dance and flirt afloat a wave of music from a full orchestra in the elegant ballroom of the newest palazzo on the Canal Grande. The lavishly furnished home is one of many owned by businessman Giovanni Mannino. Gio is from Murano and is the latest in a long line of glass-makers. His ancestors were forced out to the island when authorities banished his trade from Venice for fear that the furnaces would blow up the city. Now he is one of the nouveau riche, buoyed by bank loans and foreign orders for everything from glass beads to chandeliers. As Gio's wife Giada so regularly says, they have so much money they won't be able to spend it even if they live for a thousand years. But Gio is trying. Trying very hard.

Tanina has borrowed not only Lydia's mask but also a shimmering gold dress and high gold heels that make her look a little more like a courtesan than she's comfortable with. Still, it is exciting to be here. A welcome distraction from her melancholy stewing over Ermanno and his dreadful behaviour.

A small man holding a Casanova mask sidles over to her. He tilts it to one side and reveals a handsome and youthful face with rich brown eyes. 'May I have the honour of this dance, and of knowing the name of the beauty I share it with?'

'And your name, sir? From what I know of Casanova, he is twice your age, twice your height and still abroad – so you are certainly not he.'

'I am Claudio Bonetti and you are correct, I am no Casanova. Though I believe the smallpox-riddled old rogue has returned to Venice after almost eighteen years abroad, so you had better check carefully that the mask is not the real thing.' She taps it and he drops the papier-mache creation to chest height. 'The mask is borrowed from a friend of mine. The only spare he had. It was something of a last-minute impulse of his to come here.'

'Mine is borrowed too. Also from an impulsive friend.' She dips her own mask and rewards him with a smile. 'I am Tanina Cingoli and I would be delighted to dance with you.' Claudio takes her hand.

Across the ballroom Lydia also finds male companionship. Her new trapunto uomo, the string of pearls that Efran sold her and a long cream silk dress with a bustle bigger than a small child have caught the eye of many men, including one who is well known to her. 'Lydia, you look enchanting. Bewitching! I am not sure which part of me is most excited to see you here – my heart or my manhood. '

Lydia laughs. 'Be in no doubt – it is your randy old cock. You do not have a heart.'

He laughs raucously. 'You are cruel! You wound me with your decadent tongue.'

'Then come closer so I can lick you better, like the tongue of a lioness heals the wounds of her pack leader.'

The man gazes across the dancers to find the whereabouts of his ever-vigilant and rightfully untrusting wife. 'Let me dance once with you-know-who, then I am yours.'

Her hand brushes against his thigh. 'Good. Because I have something for you. Something more incredible than anything you have ever dreamed of.'

'I am sure.'

She stretches up and leans close to kiss his ear. 'Not sex. This is something you have yearned even more for. Something you wanted so much you might even give your life – or take a life – for it.'

She has him hooked.

He glances across the room again. His wife has her back to him. 'Tempt me no more. Let's find a chamber on the upper floor.'

CHAPTER 49

Present Day Hotel Rotoletti, Venice Valentina is in Tom's tiny shower, simultaneously trying to sober up and live down the embarrassment of arriving on his doorstep in the early hours. Though Tom's been at pains to reassure her that there's nothing to be embarrassed about, she seems mortified about what she's done.

Tom is just thinking about taking a walk to grab coffee and pastries when his cellphone rings.

'It's Alfie – can you speak?'

Tom's surprised but pleased to hear his old friend's voice. 'Yes, of course. Thanks for calling. Did you find anything?'

Alfie sounds stressed. 'Not as much as I thought. I used our computerised search engines to trawl through everything connected to the keywords liver – Etruscans – symbols – squares – oblongs – snakes – rituals – priests…'

'Sounds quite a trawl.'

'It was.' Alfie pauses as if he's looking around, making sure no one is watching. 'Tom, I'm nervous about what I'm going to tell you.'

'Go on.'

'Etruscan is one of those dead languages, so it's been hard to cross-check things and find definite sources, but I came across a tale that may cause some concern within the Church.'

'Alfie, the suspense is killing me.'

'You know of the Piacenza Liver, right?'

'The bronze artefact that was used to teach priests how to divine livers?'

'That's the one. It's widely believed to be the oldest and best-preserved of Etruscan artefacts, but there are suggestions of something that considerably predates it.'

'Another metal liver?'

'No. Something more precious. An artefact referred to as the Tablets of Atmanta. It's made up of three silver tablets that interlock to form a single oblong scene, and allegedly dates back hundreds of years before the birth of Christ.'

Tom feels his pulse quicken. 'Go on.'

'The tablets are said to depict an awful vision by a netsvis called Teucer. Apparently he went blind – either during the vision or just afterwards, I can't work out which – but it seems his wife was a sculptress named Tetia and she captured the vision in these tablets. The middle one is believed to show Teucer; while another depicts him and his wife with their child, who neither of them lived to see. The final tablet is said to show a divinity that at the time was unknown in the Etruscan pantheon but is thought to be a demonic deity like Aita, lord of the underworld.'

Tom is fascinated. 'And the snakes, any mention of them?'

'I nearly forgot: the Tablets of Atmanta are also referenced as the Gates of Destiny.'

'Gates?'

'Yes. It seems hundreds of snakes were etched into the tablets. They ran vertically and horizontally and overlapped each other so they formed what looked like gates.' He hesitates. 'I guess the gates to the afterlife.'

'That's great, Alfie. Really helpful.' Tom hears Valentina moving around the bedroom. 'Why were you nervous about telling me this?'

There's a pause before Alfredo Giordano answers. 'It's not what I've told you that makes me nervous, Tom. It's what I haven't told you. The records are incomplete. Some of the information has been classified "restricted". Whatever's in there is so sensitive it's been locked up in the Holy See's secret archives.'