In any event, he did not have a trust fund, and no one had offered him one. So the issue was moot for the moment.
“On the contrary,” the woman said, “the Ascendants were just as shocked by Ettore’s disappearance as the rest of the world. In fact, they were furious.”
“Why?”
“He was working on a top-secret project for them. One of utmost importance.”
“An atomic weapon,” Dr. Corwin guessed, thinking about the time period when Ettore had vanished at sea. 1938, if memory served.
“What Ettore was developing . . . was something greater than a mere destructive device. He was pursuing no less than the theory of everything: a theorem uniting micro and macro physics.”
“Aren’t we all,” Dr. Corwin said dryly.
“He might have been successful. Or at least partly so.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you implying research beyond that which we have today?”
“Perhaps.”
Dr. Corwin uncrossed his legs and sat up straighter in the chair. He had joined the Society because of a shared ideal to solve the most profound mysteries of the universe, because the other members had impressed him—and because of the secret knowledge in the possession of the Society. So far, he had been given only a taste, a collection of curios from the past with no easy explanation. While the Society promised much more as he rose through the ranks, in truth he had his doubts. “I’m listening.”
“We don’t really know how successful he was. No one does. But Ettore made a device for the Ascendants, which they believe crossed new borders. They also believe he took it with him when he disappeared.”
“What sort of device?”
“Should you choose to accept, you’ll be given a file with more details.”
“Choose to accept what?”
The woman paused before she spoke. “Recently, knowledge has surfaced that suggests Ettore Majorana might still be alive.”
Dr. Corwin regarded each of the beige masks in turn. “How very intriguing.”
“Our sources tell us the Ascendants think so too. In fact, they’re actively seeking to find him.”
“And you want me to do what? Try to locate him before they do?”
“Exactly that. You’re one of the top physicists of your generation. If you find Ettore, you can speak his language, appeal to his scientific sensibilities. You are not yet known to the Ascendants, at least to our knowledge. Both of these attributes weigh in your favor. It is increasingly apparent that technology will decide not just the outcome of our struggle with our former brethren, but the Cold War raging across the globe, and all future wars. We’re not convinced—in fact, we have our doubts—that Ettore, if still alive, possesses knowledge that we do not. But if he does, and if the Ascendants reach him first . . .”
“I understand.”
“We are not sure that you do. Our enemies do not share our ideals, our basic humanity. They will do anything to achieve their aims. Even worse, they believe they are all the nobler for it.”
“True believers,” Dr. Corwin muttered. “Always the most dangerous adversaries.” He toyed with a silver ring on his left index finger, imprinted with a barely visible spiral pattern. “What do I need to get started?”
“If you choose to accept, then all the background information we possess is contained in the attaché case.”
“What attaché case?”
“The one beside you.”
Dr. Corwin looked down and started. In plain sight on the seat to his left was a slender black briefcase he was sure had not been there when he sat down.
One hundred percent sure.
“Neat trick,” he said.
“This is an excellent chance for you to make your mark on the Society,” the woman said. “We apologize that we cannot send a more senior member with you, but the Ascendants are exerting pressure around the globe, and our resources are stretched thin. Should the situation change, we can reevaluate.”
“As in, don’t come asking for help unless I’m successful.”
“Some say it’s a curse to live in interesting times. We believe it’s the only way to advance the human narrative. Will you help us find Ettore, James?”
With an easy grin that belied the intensity of his stare, Dr. Corwin laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair again. “It just so happens I’m on summer break.”
Bologna, ItalyPresent Day 1
From the back seat of the silver Alfa Romeo sedan speeding through the Italian countryside in the deep of night, Andie felt as if they were driving through cotton, the pervasive fog a veil of mystery separating the starry sky from the fecund brown earth of the Po River Valley. Cal was sitting beside her, glancing nervously out the rear window. When the fog cleared, bursts of heat lightning illuminated the flat landscape, jagged tongues of raw energy that added to her unease.
Had anyone seen them leave the Venetian cemetery?
Had Zawadi survived?
Could Andie and Cal trust the sedan’s driver—the tall blond-haired man who had saved them from Omer less than two hours ago? Due to the driver’s accent, aquiline nose, and strong jaw, Andie had guessed he was Scandinavian, but so far he had said very little other than providing a name—Henrik.
Earlier, when fleeing across the Venetian lagoon in a cigarette boat, Henrik had veered away from the airport and toward a collection of squat manufacturing buildings pockmarking the shore. Barely slowing as they entered an inlet that cut through the buildings, Henrik had guided the boat through a nest of canals to a slip outside a shuttered warehouse. He had tied the vessel off, jumped onto the creaky aluminum dock, and led them to the front of the warehouse, where the Alfa Romeo was waiting like a diamond in a coal mine of industrial blight.
Henrik had driven among the buildings with his lights off until they
