He looked as if he was sleeping.
Johann had heard of saints whose bodies were perfectly intact even hundreds of years after their deaths. Was it the same with people who’d made a pact with the devil? But perhaps there was another reason for this state. Leonardo had been vain. If he had hoped that Johann would turn up one day to desecrate his corpse, he would have done anything to avoid presenting an image of horror.
Johann bent over the corpse and studied it closely. Now he could make out tiny incisions and stitches on its neck, drops of an acrid-smelling liquid bulging out from the cuts. Leonardo had been a genius unto his death. Somehow he had managed to stop the decomposition process, or at least slow it down.
That only left the question of what the body would look like on the inside.
Johann tried to calm himself. When his hands no longer trembled quite as badly, he pulled one of the sharp knives from his belt. Gently, he unbuttoned Leonardo’s shirt, exposing the narrow, sunken chest.
Then he took the knife and placed it on the skin, which parted like parchment.
Johann focused on his work, trying to ignore the thought that he was cutting open the greatest genius of mankind like a common thief. Then he picked up the saw and cut through the ribs until the torso lay in front of him like an open treasure chest.
You clever old man.
When Johann had gazed at the bloodstained parchment with the anatomical sketch down in the tunnel earlier, realization had hit him harder than Henriet’s blows. Leonardo da Vinci had practically pushed his nose right up to it, but Johann still hadn’t seen. Now he understood why they had conducted this strange dissection on the dead stable boy in the shed of the manor house. Leonardo had shown Johann what he expected of him. And it had been a test to see whether Johann was even capable of performing a dissection in his state. Karl had helped him then, and Leonardo couldn’t have foreseen that the younger man would not be with Johann now. Then, on his deathbed, the dying Leonardo da Vinci had told Johann the secret of the hiding place, speaking in riddles in case Henriet overheard them. What had his final words been?
The greatest secrets lie at the innermost core. The innermost.
La Meffraye and Henriet had searched everywhere—expect for one place.
Inside Leonardo.
Johann closed his eyes for a moment and cleared his mind so he could continue to concentrate. Just like Karl had done in the shed, he removed the lung flaps. They were gray and a little mushy, but still intact. The acrid smell he had noticed earlier was very pungent now. He saw Leonardo’s heart, which had stopped beating for good, and below, the stomach sack, which was surprisingly small. Like the rest of the intestines, it was swimming in the sharp-smelling liquid that filled the torso.
It took only a tiny cut to open the stomach.
Something glimmered inside.
Johann placed the knife aside and carefully removed the item. It was the small silver globe, about the size of a marble, that Leonardo had always carried around his neck. The dying man had probably rubbed it with butter or oil and then swallowed it—surely a painful thing to do. But that way Leonardo had managed to literally take his secret to the grave. He had feasted with the devil and outdanced him in the end. Despite the eerie surroundings, Johann couldn’t help but smile. What was it Leonardo had said?
He who dances with the devil needs good shoes.
Wherever Leonardo’s soul was now, Tonio had not received what he had wanted so badly. The old man had made sure that only Johann learned of the hiding place.
And now he would finally reveal the secret.
With the sleeve of his shirt Johann wiped the blood from the globe.
Just then a cry rang out behind him, sounding like that of a giant bird of prey, and then something was placed around his neck.
A demonic creature pounced on him, screaming shrilly.
Johann reached to his throat and felt a thin leather strap that was tightening relentlessly. Sharp fingernails dug into his skin. He had been so consumed by finally solving the mystery that he had forgotten all about Henriet’s words from earlier.
Maybe La Meffraye will still find it. She had another idea.
Johann’s eyes bulged as he gasped for air. He went to his knees. It was the same technique the French soldiers had employed in the woods near Chinon—an ancient method of strangulation, simple and effective.
“Little Faustusss,” hissed a voice behind him. “You always were a clever boy. But not as clever as La Meffraye!” The creature giggled.
Johann wondered how many children La Meffraye, the barn owl, had murdered in this way, or perhaps only knocked out until Gilles de Rais had his way with them. He felt his strength wane and a blackness spread from the edges of his field of vision. Finally he managed to force a finger between his throat and the strap; he pulled at it and delicious air streamed into his lungs. He rolled to the side, the strap loosened, and La Meffraye now straddled him like an angry harpy.
It was amazing how much the old cook had changed. She still resembled Leonardo’s mute servant Matturina, but her true face was showing now. Flashing eyes filled with hatred, a beak-shaped nose, and an insane grin. But within seconds this face could change into a mask of gentleness and motherliness—which had been the downfall of so many children.
Suddenly Johann recognized her.
When he first drank the black potion in the woods near Nördlingen, many years ago, Tonio and Poitou had taken him to a clearing. Many wet tongues had licked
