The Venice Code Read Online Free PDF

had set behind the mountains now, the entire valley bathed in darkness, the light from fires, lanterns and torches, as well as a quarter moon mostly hidden behind clouds stabbing feebly at the night.
    “And now we see their weakness,” said Marco, pointing to the guard towers. “What do we know about torches at night?”
    Giuseppe shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean? They provide light?”
    “Yes, but only to the immediate area,” said Marco. “If you hold a torch high and peer into the darkness, what do you see?”
    And then it dawned on Giuseppe, a smile spreading across his face. “You see nothing! All your eyes can see is the light of the torch!”
    “Exactly, my brother. You see better in the dark, when it is dark. Your eyes adjust. But these fools have bright torches on either side of their guard towers meaning they won’t be able to see more than ten or twenty paces in either direction. One would be able to scale the wall at the midpoint of two guard towers completely unseen.” His master stood, no longer concerned with being spotted. “Let us return to the camp and tell the others of our plan.”
    “Your plan, Master.”
    Marco put his arm across Giuseppe’s shoulders and squeezed. “You were there when the plan was crafted. We shall call it our plan.”
    Giuseppe was about to protest when a particularly harsh gust of wind had them both gasping for air, their Venetian blood not accustomed to these temperatures. Though Giuseppe was certain he wasn’t Venetian, he was certain he was of a warm clime, his reaction to the cold seeming to suggest it was completely unnatural to him.
    They walked in silence to the camp and dropped near a large fire, sheltered by several large stones and a rock face. Though definitely warmer, it was still ridiculously cold, though Giuseppe kept his complaints to himself.
    “We have a plan,” announced his master.
    “Out with it,” said his master’s father, Niccolo. “What have you two cooked up?”
    Giuseppe felt a surge of pride at the words, along with a few butterflies in the pit of his stomach at the suggestion he had indeed contributed.
    “Giuseppe and I will enter through the eastern gates in about two hours with one of our horses, posing as traders for tomorrow’s market. There’s no reason they should stop us, and we will then make our way to the church which is nearby.
    “Once we make contact with the priest, we’ll attempt to retrieve the idol, and if successful, we’ll escape over the southern wall and join you here.”
    “And what if you cannot accomplish this tonight?”
    “I will shoot an arrow with a message—I will show you the spot where it will land when we leave shortly—and it will tell you when I am expected to return. We should send our party with as many of our supplies as you can back, for I think we shall be pursued. Keep four swift horses and enough provisions for the journey back in case we need to abandon the supply horses.”
    Marco’s father Niccolo nodded, looking at his brother, Matteo. “What do you think?”
    “I think your son has thought of everything except what to do should he be captured.”
    “I did,” replied Marco.
    “And what is the plan in such an eventuality?”
    “To not get captured.”
     
     

 
     
    Leroux Residence, Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia
    Present day, one day after the kidnapping
     
    Chris Leroux was pinned to the floor, his girlfriend Sherrie White on top of him. He struggled against her, but not very hard, this a fight he was more than willing to lose. And she knew it, grinding her hips in to his with every move he made.
    She was playing to win.
    And he was playing to lose.
    They both knew what was going on. It had begun as a tickle war on the couch in which he had almost made her sick from laughing, then in a last ditch effort to save herself, she had used one of her CIA Special Operator moves on him that immediately had him on the floor and at her mercy.
    He hated being tickled