Stone of Fire: An ARKANE Thriller (Book 1)

Chapter 22

     Mario led them around the side of the building and in through a side door.
     “I still have the keys from the last project we did here … and a private tour impresses the girls,” he grinned. “The Basilica was built as a mausoleum and private chapel for the Doge, the elected ruler of Venice. It’s attached to his Palace but we’ll go in here to avoid the cameras on that side. So what are we looking for?”
     Morgan could see that Mario was keen to help and eager to make a good impression. Clearly Jake had some influence within ARKANE.
     “We’re looking for a piece of stone,” Morgan said. Mario laughed, the sound echoing in the cavernous dark.
     “Have you seen the Basilica before?”
     “It’s been years since I was here for the Biennale and we didn’t come inside but … wow!”
     Mario shone his powerful flashlight into the dark and lit up patches of the walls, ceiling and floor.
     “We have a lot of stone here,” he said. “More than 8000 square meters of mosaic cover the walls, vaults and cupolas of St Mark’s. Where do you want to start? Any information will help us narrow it down.”
     “OK,” said Morgan. “We’re looking for a rock that was part of the Pentecost story. Is there anything relating to that in the Basilica?”
     Mario grinned at her.
“This is the right church for Pentecost. Come upstairs. Be careful now. We need to go up to the balcony viewing platform.”

     Mario handed out headlamps which they put on, keeping their hands free to help them climb. The steps were ancient and worn. Huge gaps between them made it hard for pilgrims to mount but had made it easier to defend against invaders in ancient times. Morgan grasped the rail to pull herself up, her headlamp dimly lighting the way. They reached the viewing platform and Mario swung his powerful flashlight beam out over the abyss below them, and then towards the ceiling of the main dome.
     “That’s the Pentecost mural,” he pointed upwards. “A glorious depiction of the Holy Spirit descending onto the twelve Apostles.”
     Morgan stared up at the scene. A huge circular mosaic of gold depicted twelve seated men, each with a stream of fire touching them, emanating from the throne of the Holy Spirit in the center. Four angels stood with wings outstretched, bright gold encircling them all.
     “The detail’s amazing. It’s so bright even in this dim light.”
     Mario nodded.
“The mosaic work is incredibly detailed, all of it gold or precious stone. It’s priceless.”
     Morgan pointed up at the mosaic. “Those red streams from their heads must be the tongues of fire. They all come from the central point. We need to examine the throne of God further.” She used the powerful binoculars they had brought to examine the mosaic as Mario aimed the flashlight. “There’s definitely something on the throne.”
    It looked like there was a small grey stone embedded there, a plain marker against the gold and jeweled ceiling. Overshadowed by the number of bright stones, it could hardly be seen at all, but Morgan wondered whether it was actually the real jewel of the mosaic. Had Pius hidden the Apostle’s stone in plain sight?
     “What do you think?” Morgan passed the binoculars to Jake so that he could see it too. Her excitement was clear in her voice as she asked. “How can we get a closer look?”
     “There’s no way to get up there,” Mario said. “The dome is directly over the main church nave, fifty meters above the ground.”
     Jake examined the buttress of the balcony, rubbing his chin in thought.
     “There’s no time for scaffolding,” he said. “What other equipment do you have here?”
     “There’s the remote viewer we used to salvage some of intricate work on the church of Maria Salute. It’s a mini helicopter so it’ll be noisy.”
     Jake nodded. “We really have to get that stone tonight. If it’s our only choice, we have to try.”
     “Sure, it’s just next door in the Doge’s Palace,” Mario replied. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Sit tight, you two. Enjoy the view.”
     Mario headed back down into the darkness of the Basilica. They heard his footsteps retreat and the creak of the door shutting behind him. Now they had a moment to stop, Morgan felt the rush of the last few days catching up with her. The need for just a moment of respite was overwhelming.
“Can we turn off the lights and just be in the dark for a bit?” she asked. “It’s so peaceful here.”
     “Of course.”
She could hear the exhaustion in Jake’s voice as well. This mission was taking it out of both of them. They turned off their flashlights and sat in silence, leaning against the ancient stone. The smell of incense was strong even at night, but the stink of the sewers was a dark tone beneath it, a pervasive problem of the flooding. In the quiet, Morgan felt an affinity with Jake, the first real tendrils of partnership. That was dangerous though. She was tired but that didn’t mean she could let her guard down. She still didn’t know enough about ARKANE but perhaps now was the time to find out.
     “Is ARKANE retrieving artifacts alongside the Italian government?” she asked.
     “Yes, although we’re working primarily with the Vatican. Italy doesn’t want to hear of Venice flooding or disappearing.”
     “Wasn’t there talk of a flood barrier?”
     “There have been plans for all kinds of ways to stop the waters, but nothing has been done and it floods all the time,” Jake replied. “Venetians have to pump water from their houses and shops every morning as water rots away the foundations. We may be scuba diving in this gorgeous church in our lifetime.”
Morgan imagined the eerie sensation of diving in here, the pillars looming from murky green water and the glint of gold from underwater flashlights.
     “That would be amazing, but devastating,” she said.
     “There’s nothing that can be done though for the ocean can’t be stopped. It’s been inevitable for centuries. Money has slowed down for urban renewal and people are leaving. Soon it will be a ghost town composed of memories. Even now it exists primarily for tourists because most of the young Venetians have left.”
     Morgan sighed. “It’s such a shame. Venice feels like it should be an eternal city, but perhaps it’s more of an idea than a real place. I must admit that the physical experience is a disappointment after the mental images built up over so long, although this Basilica is spectacular. It feels like a more spiritual place than St Peters for me, although perhaps that’s because no one else is here.”
     In the darkness, Morgan felt Jake shift beside her. He was close but not quite touching. She could smell the clean scent of him and feel his body heat. She wanted to lean into him, to be held for just a moment in his strong arms, but there was danger there. She felt the connection between them, a spark of attraction that could explode in violence or passion. But in the dark, ghosts haunted them both, chilling their skin, pulling them away from the abyss of what could be. Morgan stopped herself, forcing her body to remain rigid, unbending even as he spoke from the dark.
     “Do you believe in God, anyway? Are you doing this with any sense of belief about the stones or just for Faye and Gemma?”
     His voice contained no trace of judgment, just curiosity. Morgan felt safe, concealed in the dark. It gave her courage to speak her real mind to a man she was beginning to trust.
     “I believe in something beyond our experience, a realm above the physical that I can’t see or touch, but that I feel sometimes in certain places. I don’t believe in a savior who died for my sins, or a personal God who cares if I’m hurting. But I know there’s an energy beyond us, a power of good and evil, a light that gives life and a darkness that can destroy us. I don’t know. What do you think?”
     Jake’s voice was gentle, almost wistful.
     “I used to be a Christian once, but what I’ve seen has destroyed that. Artifacts from ancient times and sacred words have blown my mind and changed my experience of the world and what people call God. I’ve decided that it’s not about the religion you belong to, but the spirit of intent and of seeking your own truth.”
     Morgan was silent for a moment, debating whether to speak more. She felt a pressing desire to share her thoughts but was also wary of his opinion.
     “I feel most spiritual and close to whatever God is when I scuba dive,” she said quietly. “I’m so insignificant on the face of the world and yet so privileged to see life all around me. Nature shows the splendor in the universe, when so often what man creates comes nowhere near it.” She paused. “Once I lay back on a dive alone and looked up through giant kelp to the surface. The sun was shining down through the deep green fronds, their pods waving in the surge. I saw God in that moment, in the tiny worlds living their life out under the oceans, with no thought of us.”
     The dark was a cloak to mask their honesty, their first real conversation held in the blackness of a magical place.
     “What of the magnificent churches that we’ve been in over the last few days?” Jake asked. “Do you feel God here, or back in Rome or Santiago?”
     “This is an amazing place, but the aim of cathedrals was always to make people feel in awe of their God. It was a sign of the power and riches of the Doge and the Venetian republic at a time when the grandeur of churches would demonstrate power and piety to all. Pilgrims would come, but is it awe of God, or man’s creation? I prefer to find my spirituality in nature where man’s hand is yet unseen.”
     “And what about the stones?” Jake asked. “What was Pentecost anyway? Is it a myth built on a grain of truth or a real power that we will put back together when the stones are reunited? If one stone can perform miracles like Varanasi, what will all twelve do in one place?”
     “I can’t see past Faye and Gemma now, Jake. We’re in this for different reasons but I don’t believe in a power that can change matter or perform miracles through pieces of rock. I’m a psychologist, and mass hysteria can explain the miracles in India. Even if there were miracles, that doesn’t make them from God and it doesn’t matter anyway. I need to do this to save my family. Can I count on you to help me to the end?”
     Jake’s silence was just a fraction too long but then they heard the door below open and footsteps echoed through the church as Mario returned.
      They switched their head torches back on and blinked a little in the light. It brought them back to real life in the church and they avoided each other’s eyes. It was as if the honest conversation in the dark had never happened. Mario reappeared on the balcony struggling with a metal suitcase containing the apparatus.
     “We used this to inspect the dome of Maria Salute last year and repair cracks in the ceiling.”
    He put the case down and opened it to reveal a small remote controlled helicopter, with pincers and a tiny drill as well as a catch bag. Morgan could see the two men grinning at the mini-copter like little boys with a new toy.
     “We used the attachments to plug holes and the catch bag to stop the mortar falling on Maria Salute but I think it’ll do the trick. We need to hurry though. It’s pretty loud. We can’t get caught here. I’m not sure even Marietti would be able to placate the Patriarch of Venice over the desecration of the Basilica.”

     Fitting the equipment together, Mario and Jake made sure the rotors spun properly and started it up. The loud buzzing echoed, resounding around the dome. At first Mario used the controls to hover above the ledge and then directed it up to the Pentecost cupola. Jake spotlighted the stone with his stronger hand-held beam.
     “There’s a mini camera on the drill,” Mario said. “It pokes upwards and around the rotors so there’s no interference. Check out the image on the monitor, Morgan. It’s grainy but you can clearly see the middle stone is different to the surrounds on the throne. That must be it.”
     Morgan knelt by the tiny monitor, anticipation building. Her professional curiosity was roused by what could be hidden here, and she felt immediately conflicted. How could she find enjoyment in what they did while Faye and Gemma were held hostage? She focused on the task at hand.
     “Do you think anyone will notice it’s gone?” she said. “After all, this could be the true relic of St Mark’s, not the body of the evangelist.”
     “Don’t worry Morgan.” Mario reassured her. “You take this stone and I’ll fashion a replica and replace it tomorrow night. No one will even know it’s gone; the mosaic is too high up to see.” Gently drilling around the side of the stone, Mario neatly positioned the catch bag underneath to catch the debris. “Almost there now. It’s so small. I just have to lever it out ... OK, it’s in the bag.”
     Mario guided the mini-copter back to their ledge and shut it down. Jake opened the catch bag, sifted through the fragments and scooped out the stone. He held it out. It was a rough dark circle, just smaller than his palm. The side that had been facing into the church was blank, almost worn, but the inner side was roughly carved, a circle within a square.
“Is that it?” Mario looked disappointed. “Is this all you’re looking for?”
     Jake turned it over in his hand, and looked at Morgan.    
“What do you think? Can you verify it?”
     “It looks like the same rock as the others,” she said, “but it has to be the right one. Why else would a dull stone be mounted in the center of the golden Pentecost mural? It must have tremendous significance for the church.”
     But Morgan felt a sense of foreboding as she touched it. They now held five stones of the Apostles, but that wasn’t enough. They had to find the others because time was running out.

***

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