Spoils of the Game (23 page)

“So now what, Sherlock?” said Austin to Madeline, who was obviously inspired.

“Pack an overnight bag, because we are going to Italy.”

“I thought you wanted to go to the beach.”

“Shut up, and get into the car. We can be in Italy in a few hours and get this whole thing out of my life. The beach can wait for a day or two.”

Within an hour they were on their way. Madeline set the GPS, and with luck they would be at the battlefield of Agnadello by one o’clock.

As they drove up the French coast, Madeline continued to go through the files. The Frankel paintings were of the battle scene, the church, and a nobleman with the apparent name of Giovanni Ierardi. Jamart had signed all of the paintings except the battle scene. Their questions continued to pile up. Who was the nobleman? Was he part of the puzzle? The painting of the church had a banner, which was not unusual per se. The banner was in Latin, and Madeline knew that presented a challenge.

By one-thirty they had arrived at the edge of Agnadello. Five hundred years allows for a lot of changes. The trees were surely different, and the buildings were different. Looking at the countryside gave little clue of what had happened there. Understanding the geography was critical to finding the church. Driving around the town of Pandino, Austin spotted a bakery and pulled the car over. Austin asked Madeline come with him to the bakery, because he couldn’t speak Italian, and perhaps Madeline could piece something together.

As they entered the door, Madeline said, “I thought men do not ask for directions.”

“They do if they can’t even fake it, and they do if they are hungry.”

It smelled wonderful inside the bakery. For a few seconds, getting directions was replaced by buying pastries. Madeline was holding a printout of the Maetan painting, and as Austin was paying for the goodies, she asked one of the employees if they could direct them to the battlefield. At first there was confusion and little communication. A minute later, the son of the owner came to the counter. Tony was about eighteen and could speak English, but even better, he knew all about the area and the battlefield. Austin was very impressed and wanted to be polite. After a brief discussion Austin asked if he could leave his job for a few minutes to guide them around town. There was a lot of discussion that included everyone in the shop, including Tony’s grandmother, but when Austin held up one hundred euros and stated that they were going to make a TV show, it was agreed that Tony could have the afternoon off if his brother went along. The younger boy and Madeline sat in the back seat discussing the painting, while Austin took direction from Tony in front.

In twenty minutes they were parked at a spot that was Tony’s best guess of where Maetan might have stood when he sketched his notes on the battle. Austin looked at what he saw before him and then at the printout. Looking through the car window was not enough. Everyone got out of the car, and Austin went looking for permanent features. Before him was a plain and a small stream, and on the horizon was a hill with mountains behind it. It was similar to the painting, but it just wasn’t right. To his left was a small trail. After a few minutes, Austin wandered down the trail.

Now he was satisfied. On the hill was the ruins of a small stone building that was in the painting, and even the rocks on the hillside were right. To make everything complete, Austin wanted to find the road where Maetan had sat in his wagon. Austin called Madeline and the brothers down to where he was standing, and everyone agreed that at this spot Maetan had sketched what he needed for the battlefield painting.

Austin said, “Madeline, let’s go find the road. It cannot be more than a few hundred yards.”

Austin, Madeline, and the boys from the bakery walked north-northeast toward where the road should be. There was no road, but Austin was satisfied. On the side of the hill were two depressions, possibly wagon ruts, covered with grass. They were wide enough to be a forgotten road, and its direction would take the depressions over the hill and farther north. Austin used a piece of paper and a stick to make a small flag and placed the flag at the location where the old road crossed the top of the hill.. They returned to the spot where Maetan must have been when he made his sketches and used a compass to determine the direction to the paper flag. If Maetan was accurate in his placement of the village over the hill, then finding the town had just gotten a little easier. But there was no sign of a double-spired church in that direction.

Austin took the boys back to the shop. The one hundred euros was the most the boys had ever made in an afternoon, and it was the best investment that Austin ever made. He made sure to thank the grandmother and tell her how good the pastries were. She smiled, and Austin hoped she understood.

Austin and Madeline got back into the car and studied the map. There were three towns that looked like possibilities, but it was getting late. There was a small hotel at the edge of town, and a room was available. The little hotel had a restaurant on the first floor with a surprisingly good menu of Northern Italian cooking. Austin would never admit it, but he was getting a little tired of French food, and a change was good.

They laid out the maps on the dinner table along with half the contents of the files. Madeline was still working on the Latin message on the painting of the church, piecing it together using bits of her high school education and a translation program she had found on the Internet. Madeline and Austin ordered, and the waiter brought a basket of warm bread along with some seasoned olive oil and a big carafe of red Italian wine. When the dinner arrived, Austin was full of bread, but he suffered through and finished his meal. Nothing was fancy; it was just good.

It was a warm evening in Northern Italy, and it was a good night for a walk. Most of the shops were closed, and the town was quiet. The town had a lot of charm, and it was an interesting place to walk and appreciate the history. It had been a long day, and Austin wanted to start early tomorrow.

In their hotel room on the second floor, he was getting out of his clothes when he glanced out the window and watched a small white van drive slowly past the hotel. It would have been insignificant if the driver had not resembled Simon, the man he had met in Nice. The man with no last name.

There are probably hundreds of men with the overall looks of Simon,
Austin said to himself. Perhaps he would have welcomed a confrontation with the little shit, but the concern was the threat that Simon might be to Madeline. All kinds of thoughts went through Austin’s mind.
Maybe I should hire a fricking guard and get my own muscle. Physically Simon did not seem like too much of a threat. He cannot weight more than one hundred and sixty pounds, and the last time I checked I’m two forty and a lot taller.

Madeline snuggled up to Austin and put her arm across his chest. “Don’t think I am not pissed at myself,” said Madeline.

“Are you mad again?”

“Yes. I just wanted to go to the beach, but now I am hooked, and I don’t want to be hooked.”

In spite of her anger, Madeline fell asleep quickly. Austin continued to lie awake with his mind spinning. The morning was going to bring an interesting day. The whole concept was a little presumptuous. What if he found the gold and it was on someone else’s property? Would he be reduced to stealing it? How was he going to put together a deal to split the money? What if was in a church? Was he going to steal from the church? Austin was not overly religious, but he did believe that what belonged to God was something that you just didn’t steal. Was he in this for the money, or was it just a game?

The morning came with rain. Austin got up and went to the window. There was no white van in sight.

He headed for the shower, and in a few minutes, Madeline joined him.

He said, “Hey, we have to get out of here, and all you are going to do is postpone our departure.”

“I just want to make sure you are clean,” replied Madeline.

“If we have any success today, I will make it up to you tonight,” promised Austin.

“Austin, I know you. If we have any success today, I will be the last thing on your mind,” said Madeline, who understood where Austin’s mind was at the moment.

In thirty minutes they were both dressed and downstairs gulping down some coffee and wolfing down some toast.

Entering the car, Madeline looked at Austin and said, “I heard a rumor that you were a rich guy, but you treat your women like you are broke. When I make arrangements, we stay in nice places, and when you do, I am eating burnt toast and drinking bad coffee. Austin, I love you, but I obviously don’t love you for your money, because you don’t spend any.”

“You love me because I am such a stud,” he replied.

“When you get a mission in your head, I think you forget about sex and women, and all you can do is to keep marching forward, dragging me along with you as your buddy.”

“Hey, you are my buddy, and that is one of the reasons I really do love you.”

It was important for Madeline to hear that. It was more important to her than any search for gold.

They left Pandino and headed northeast with a rough plan. Austin wanted to believe that the measurements he had made were accurate, but what if Maetan’s placement of the towns was inaccurate? To the north were towns like Treviglio and Bergamo, and to the east were towns like Antegnate, Chiari, and Brescia. They decided to start at Brescia and then work their way over to Bergamo. Searching would take time, and every minute of travel time was one fewer minute of time to search. It was clear that asking people was going to be mandatory. They couldn’t just drive around without some guidance. Madeline had enough camera equipment to support the story that she was doing a magazine article, and the copy of the painting would help people to understand exactly what they were looking for. In the smaller towns there was no formal tourist information, but the people were friendly and always willing to help. In Brescia there was an excellent tourist office, but no one knew of the building in the painting. They headed west on A4, making for Bergamo.

Madeline continued to work on the banner message on the church painting and finally proclaimed, “I think I have translated the Latin message.”

“Okay, what is the secret message?”

“Well, here is my version. Are you ready?”

“Oh, I am ready, very ready.”

“Okay, here it goes. Put your faith in the well of the Lord and be refreshed forever more.”

“In the well, or
will?
”

“No, it is
well
, like water well.”

“So what do you make of that?” said Austin.

“I do not know. It sounds like a nice Christian ethic,” replied Madeline. “I’ll think about it.”

They stopped at the tourist office in Bergamo. Surely someone would know about the building in the painting. The tourist office was quiet, with two women working behind the counter. Madeline took the lead, saying that she was on assignment and had been asked to take a series of photos for a magazine article; she wanted to find the building in the painting to show the comparison between then and now. It was a weak story, but no one cared. Both women looked at the copy of the painting, and neither recognized the building.

Austin was wandering the office, and he noted the pictures on the walls. Someone had framed a series of woodcuts done long ago. There was a variety of scenes covering life in Northern Italy, with views of Bergamo and views of Lake Como. In a corner of the room was one drawing that looked familiar but different. The more Austin studied the drawing, the more he understood that perhaps the vantage point was different, but it sure looked like the building in the painting. Austin approached the counter where the two women were seated.

“Excuse me, but what can you tell me about the drawings on the wall?”

One of the women looked up and tried to understand Austin’s English. Austin asked the question again, and this time he pointed toward the pictures. The older of the two women stood up and responded with
“Si,, Si, Si.”
She walked over and looked at the picture on the wall, and she tried to read the name of the picture on the small brass plaque on the bottom of the frame. Within seconds the woman seemed to understand the name on the picture, and she turned and surveyed a collection of books on one of the shelves. Within a few seconds of searching she found a large book and handed it to Austin. The book was in Italian and contained hundreds of drawings. Austin paged through the volume and found the same drawing that was on the wall. Madeline walked over to where Austin was standing, and he handed her the open book without comment. Within seconds, Madeline saw the same thing that Austin had: the picture was labeled
Il Monastero di San Sebastiano..

“This is unbelievable,” she said, “just unbelievable. Austin, this is the same building as on the painting. Look, the caption for the drawing says that it was drawn in 1652.”

Madeline took the book over to the two women and asked if they knew anything about the building and where it might be found. Both women looked at the drawing, neither one had any knowledge of the building. Austin paid for the book, and he and Madeline left the office and went out into the town square and the late-afternoon sunshine.

“Someone in this town must know about the monastery,” said Austin. “Let’s get a table and some coffee. We are getting so close, I can taste it.”

Seated at a table in a restaurant overlooking the town square, Austin and Madeline looked over the book they had just purchased. The picture and the text around it did not provide any clues. The waiter came to take their order. When the waiter returned, Madeline asked if he had any knowledge of the monastery. His admitted that he was not from the area and couldn’t help. At the table to their right sat an elderly couple that overheard Madeline’s request.

“Excuse me,” said the small, white-haired gentlemen in heavily accented but understandable English. “There are several monasteries in the area. Which one were you interested in? Some have been turned into hotels, if that is what you need.”