The Venice Code Read Online Free PDF Page A

recently discovered skull under the guise of eliminating a terrorist cell.
    He had forced the Triarii’s hand and was eliminated by their own man on the inside, a longtime member of the Triarii who had pretended to agree with President Jackson’s actions, but in reality was still loyal to the Triarii, staying by his side in hopes of one day retrieving the Smithsonian skull.
    After Jackson’s theft and departure from the organization, the dissenters had receded into the background, nothing heard again, those who had agitated for unification of the skulls falling silent, denying involvement and disavowing their previous beliefs after such traitorous deeds.
    But with today’s kidnapping, and the fact Triarii members were clearly involved, it appeared the sect was active again, and there could be only one reason for their actions.
    “Clearly they’re after the Mitchell-Hedges skull,” said one of the twelve others around the table, one for each of the skulls under the protection of the Triarii.
    “Clearly,” agreed the Proconsul. “The question now is whether or not the son knows where it is, then what we do about it.”
    “Should we enact The Protocol?” asked the member responsible for the British Museum skull, Maria Thatcher, the very skull under the real-world care of Professor Laura Palmer, who due to Jackson’s actions had been drawn into the world of the Triarii, and now knew who and what they were.
    “No, I don’t think that’s necessary at this time,” replied the Proconsul. “Be on standby however, as we may need to. At this time there is only one skull I am concerned with.”
    “We must act on that immediately.”
    “I had hoped Mr. Chaney would be able to ask for their involvement, but it would appear his injuries are worse than we thought. Though he is out of his coma, his memory is suspect. It appears he has no clue he is a member of the Triarii.”
    “Then we must act now,” said Thatcher, heads around the table nodding in assent as they turned to the Proconsul.
    He puffed on his cigar for a moment, eyeing the frozen image of the Triarii tattoo on the wrist of one of the dead kidnappers.
    “Agreed. Reach out to the professors immediately. We need their help.”
     
     

 
     
    Outskirts of Karakorum, Mongol Empire
    March 28 th , 1275 AD
     
    Giuseppe lay flat on his stomach, the hard ground cold, his fur coat only protecting him for the first few minutes. It had been over half an hour since they first crawled into position. The others had returned to make temporary camp until nightfall, but his master, Marco, had insisted on staying to observe the city below.
    And where Marco went, Giuseppe went.
    The city walls were massive, encircling the entire former capital with guard towers at regular intervals, manned each with two men and torches to light the area, some of them already lit and flickering in the winter wind, illuminating little, but the occasional guard could be seen warming his hands near the flame.
    “How will we enter, Master?”
    “I was thinking through the gates.”
    Giuseppe hid his surprise, unsure of whether or not his master was once again joking with him, his humor one of his most endearing if not puzzling qualities. He searched his master’s face for a hint of the truth, but nothing was revealed to suggest he wasn’t serious.
    “Then why are we waiting?”
    “The guards will be cold and tired near the end of their shift. I would guess they will change near midnight. If we wait until about an hour before then, we shall find our guards eager to let us pass so they can return to their fires. We shall go through the East Gates; they are closest to the Church where our contact is.”
    “If we are going through the gates, Master, why are you observing the walls for so long?”
    Giuseppe shivered as if to emphasize his subtle point.
    “I said we’d enter by the gates. I didn’t say how we’d exit.”
    Giuseppe nodded, his interest suddenly renewed in the walls. The sun