Screaming, Cesaria ran towards Conti lying on the boardwalk, blood gushing from his mouth. He was still alive, but could no longer see. She knelt down beside him – tears streaming down her face – cradled his head in her lap and stroked his hair. Moments later, he passed away.

  Jack turned to the colonel standing next to him. ‘A bad movie?’ he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  ‘No, harsh reality. These walls would have seen a lot, but nothing quite like this.’ The colonel put away his gun. ‘I meant to tell you earlier ...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Haddad’s dead. He was killed yesterday near Dabiq in Syria.’

  ‘Jesus! How?’

  ‘I’ll show you when we get back to my office,’ said the colonel, sadness in his voice, and followed the commandos down the stairs. Just before he reached the bottom, he stopped and turned around. ‘We’ve found something in Bahadir’s office that concerns you,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Tell you later.’

  Part V

  Osdabio

  “The natural healing force within each of us

  Is the greatest force in getting well.”

  Hippocrates

  70

  Venice: 27 June

  The Turkish security forces had moved quickly. All traces of the Hagia Sophia terrorist execution and the Basilica Cistern shooting had been erased before the popular tourist destinations opened in the morning. Sultan’s Table had been temporarily closed, and the Americans had removed from the premises all potentially incriminating records and equipment linking them to Bahadir. Conti’s body had been taken to the morgue and officers were on their way from Florence to collect it. Grimaldi had instructed Cesaria to wait for them in Istanbul and return to Florence with the body. Officially, nothing had happened. The all-important tourist dollar had been protected and was safe.

  Colonel Riza had strongly suggested that Jack leave Istanbul as soon as possible and requested – for security reasons – that he not talk to the press. Jack agreed and decided to take the first available flight to Venice. In return, the colonel gave Jack something precious to take with him. In doing so, he had broken several rules, but felt that special circumstances warranted this.

  Jack arrived at Marco Polo airport just before eleven in the morning and after spending almost an hour in a frustrating queue, finally managed to catch a water taxi.

  As the taxi approached the Rialto Bridge and he could see the familiar facade of the Palazzo da Baggio in the distance, Jack began to relax for the first time since the horror he had witnessed the day before. So much had happened, but in a strange way the traumatic events seemed distant – almost surreal. He had spent half the night on the phone and had barely slept, but was very much looking forward to catching up with Tristan, Lorenza and the countess.

  Jack stepped off the water taxi and then walked along a narrow, slippery stone ledge leading to the huge portal facing the canal. Pulling a thick chord to ring a bell inside, he wondered how Osman da Baggio would have felt doing the same four hundred years earlier.

  Perhaps I should have called, thought Jack as he waited. Then the door opened. Too late. Coming straight from the kitchen and wearing an apron covered in flour, her hair pulled back with a headscarf tied at the back of her neck, Lorenza looked at Jack and froze. Then delight replaced surprise as she threw her arms around him and pulled him inside.

  Tristan and the countess had arrived two days earlier. Tristan had made excellent progress and was no longer bedridden. Lorenza had collected her prize money and was busy making plans for a restaurant in the family palazzo, and the release of a cookbook. She was also in great demand for interviews and television appearances.

  Jack’s unexpected arrival caused quite a stir. Everyone gathered in the salon on the first floor and almost overwhelmed him with questions. Taking his time, Jack gave a step-by-step account of the turbulent events of the past few days, beginning with the Gambio execution everyone had of course already heard about.

  ‘You were at the funeral?’ asked da Baggio.

  ‘I was there and saw it all.’

  Lorenza looked at Tristan. ‘Can you believe this?’

  Tristan nodded. ‘That’s Jack,’ he said, grinning. ‘Always in the right place at the right time. Uncanny!’

  Jack then told them how and where Haddad had been killed, but didn’t show them the video posted by IS. But he did show them the gruesome Bahadir execution video and gave a graphic account of what happened in the Basilica Cistern.

  When Jack finished, no-one stirred.

  ‘Incredible!’ said the countess at last. ‘How could all this have happened in such a short time?’

  ‘Destiny waits for no-one,’ said Jack, ‘and retribution is unpredictable, brutal and impatient.’

  Tristan sat next to Lorenza. He was holding her hand and looked at her intently. ‘What did I tell you?’ he said.

  Looking pale and quite shaken, Lorenza nodded.

  Da Baggio turned towards his daughter. ‘What does he mean?’

  ‘Tristan told me this would happen ...’

  The countess shot Jack one of her do-something looks.

  Jack stood up walked to the door. ‘I have a surprise for you,’ he said. ‘Back in a moment.’

  Jack returned a few minutes later with a rectangular package under his arm, wrapped in brown paper and held together with string. He walked over to the wooden chest by the window. ‘This is for you, Leonardo,’ he said, and placed the package on top. ‘And for you, Lorenza. Please open it.’

  ‘For me?’ Da Baggio began to untie the knots. ‘I don’t believe it!’ he whispered, carefully folding back the paper to expose what was inside.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Lorenza.

  Da Baggio held up the package. ‘Here, see for yourself.’

  ‘Is that what I think it is?’

  Lorenza stood up and walked over to her father. ‘The recipes!’ she cried out. ‘My God, the recipes have come home!’

  ‘How did you manage this?’ asked da Baggio, shaking his head.

  ‘The recipes were found in Bahadir’s restaurant during a raid yesterday, together with a note from Gambio. The Turkish authorities kept the note.’

  ‘Do you know what it said?’ asked Tristan.

  ‘Yes. Something like: “I kept my promise; I hope you will keep yours”.’

  ‘So, that’s what this was all about,’ said da Baggio. ‘We know that Gambio was behind the abduction and the strange ransom demand ...’

  ‘That made no sense at all at the time,’ interjected the countess. ‘The recipes ...’

  ‘Now it does,’ said Lorenza. ‘This was all about Top Chef Europe. Kemal Bahadir was after the recipes.’

  ‘Humiliation and pride,’ said Jack. ‘He couldn’t accept his loss during the competition. As the self-proclaimed expert on Ottoman cuisine, he couldn’t come to terms with losing to you, Lorenza.’

  As the countess looked at Tristan sitting next to Lorenza on the lounge, she remembered his strange, almost prophetic words during the contest. This victory will come at great cost. She also remembered the expression on his face: troubled and sad. Now she knew why.

  Da Baggio walked into the middle of the room and held up his hand. Slowly, everyone fell silent. ‘As you just said, Lorenza, the recipes have returned home, the circle is complete. Let’s close this painful chapter once and for all and move on. Thank God it’s all over.’

  Jack walked across to da Baggio and put his arm around his shoulder. ‘Not yet, my friend,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid there is more, and it has to do with the recipes, and perhaps making history.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ said da Baggio, a little annoyed.

  Jack smiled. He was in his element. The storyteller inside him was bursting. ‘Let me tell you,’ he said, ‘it’s quite a story.’

  Why am I not surprised? thought the countess and rolled her eyes, smiling.

  Bemused, Tristan was smiling too and looked expectantly at Jack.

  Jack walked over to the coffee table. He picked up his iPad, opened it and located a photo of the painting he had found in the Imperial Crypt in Vienna.

  ‘Let’s begin at the beginning,’ he said and held up the screen for all to see. ‘When I found this painting two years ago, I had no idea who this was, or the role the book he is holding in his hand was to play. But now we know. The man is Osman da Baggio – your ancestor who escaped from Constantinople as a young man, returned home here to Venice and became a famous physician.’

  Jack turned around and pointed to the wall behind him. ‘In fact, you told me the painting used to hang right here next to this delightful little portrait of Osman’s mother, until the Nazis stole it during the war. We also know what book Osman is holding in his hand: it’s al-Qanun, Avicenna’s famous Canon of Medicine. But we had no inkling just how important this book was to become until you, Leonardo, mentioned the da Baggio family chronicles to me. Do you have them here?’

  ‘Sure.’ Da Baggio walked over to the chest by the window, took out a thin, leather-bound book and handed it to Jack. Holding it carefully with both hands, Jack held it up like a precious trophy, which in a way of course it was.

  ‘This, my friends, contains a treasure-trove of information. As you know, I took copies of the chronicles back to Sydney with me. There I began my investigation with the help of a Jesuit priest, Father Connor, an expert in Church history and fluent in Latin. What we discovered was truly astonishing. We found out what happened to Osman and discovered clues pointing to the possible whereabouts of the book he was holding. To cut a long story short, our search took us to Rome, to the Vatican archives, where we located Osman’s original annotated copy of al-Qanun buried in the Inquisition’s records of his trial, and a lot more ...’

  Jack paused to let this sink in. Mesmerised, everyone was hanging on his every word and following the extraordinary story with a mixture of fascination and disbelief.

  ‘And this is where things become really interesting,’ continued Jack, lowering his voice as he pointed to the bundle of recipes on the table. ‘And it all has to do with this here.’

  ‘The recipes?’ asked Lorenza.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘When we worked our way through Osman’s copy of the book and the trial transcript that meticulously records all the questions put to Osman, and of course his answers too, we discovered something interesting ...’

  ‘What exactly?’ asked Tristan, sitting up and leaning forward.

  ‘Osman recorded detailed information about his cases in the margins of the book with surprising detail and accuracy. He was a gifted observer of symptoms. Unfortunately, that’s where the good news ends.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘He didn’t record the treatment or the remedies he had prescribed for his patients, which appeared to have been so effective and successful – miraculous as the inquisitors suggested – and that was the problem. When questioned about this, he gave a very curious answer.’

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Tristan.

  ‘He said that all treatments and remedies depended entirely on food; special recipes emanating from the East ...’

  ‘Are you suggesting ...?’ said Lorenza, pointing to the recipes on the table.

  Jack nodded. ‘But unfortunately, he didn’t specifically talk about the recipes. All he said was it was all in his head. I believe he wasn’t going to disclose his secret recipes. Much like the famous Ottoman cooks in the sultan’s kitchens at the Topkapi Palace. They guarded their recipes with their lives. They were treasures, and I believe Osman treated them in the same way. The Inquisition wasn’t satisfied with this answer and he was convicted of heresy. Without a satisfactory explanation, they suspected witchcraft was involved.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘With that, Father Connor and I reached a dead-end. It is hard to believe that this only happened a few days ago. Father Connor returned to Sydney with copies of various extracts of the original book, which contains the handwritten comments and annotations made in the margins by Osman himself. I had to go to Istanbul ... You know the rest.’

  Jack paused again and put down the book next to his iPad.

  ‘You also know why the Nazis were looking for this book and why Professor K was so interested in it. We’ve spoken about this before. But what you don’t know is that certain information contained in the book may have present-day significance that could in fact hold the key to a possible breakthrough in certain cutting-edge medical research currently being conducted by Alexandra – Professor Delacroix – and her team at the Gordon in Sydney.’

  ‘This is unbelievable,’ said da Baggio, shaking his head.

  ‘Sure is, but there’s more ...’

  ‘More?’ asked the countess.

  ‘Yes, and it has to do with the original recipes here.’ Jack pointed to the table. ‘You will remember when we decided to hand over the originals as directed in the ransom telephone call, and Clara came here from Florence and inserted a tracking device into the folder?’

  ‘Yes, of course I remember,’ said da Baggio, frowning.

  ‘We took photocopies of the originals before we handed them over.’

  ‘Of course. They are right here,’ said da Baggio and pointed to the wooden chest.

  ‘Could I see them?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Da Baggio went to the chest, retrieved the copies and handed them to Jack. Jack held up one of the recipes and looked for the original among the bundle on the table.

  ‘Ah; here it is,’ he said and held up both, the copy and the original.

  ‘Perfect, right? In every respect.’

  ‘Sure. What’s your point?’ asked da Baggio, becoming a little impatient.

  ‘Not so! Here, have a look.’ Jack turned over the original and pointed to a small symbol – exquisite Ottoman calligraphy – in the bottom right-hand corner. Then he turned over the copy and held it up. It was completely blank.

  ‘How is this relevant?’ asked Lorenza. ‘This has nothing to do with the recipe.’

  ‘Oh, but it has,’ said Jack. ‘Let me explain.’

  Jack opened his shoulder bag, pulled out a piece of paper and held it up. ‘This is an extract from the transcript of Osman’s trial. As you can see, there are a number of symbols set out right here, and here. Osman was questioned rigorously about them by the Inquisition, because these symbols appear regularly next to his handwritten notes in the margins in the book.’

  Tristan nodded and smiled. He could already see where Jack was heading. ‘Instead of setting out the recipes themselves, Osman identified them through symbols.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Jack. ‘Each recipe has its own specific identification code – symbol – on the back. This only became clear to me yesterday, when Colonel Riza gave me the originals and I noticed the symbols on the back of each recipe. Without access to the originals, we would never have found out about this.’ Jack paused and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘This is the missing link, the connection that ties everything together. I called Alexandra immediately and told her the good news. As you can imagine, she became very excited. She had of course seen copies of the recipes before; copies that didn’t have this important identification on the back – that missing, all-important clue.’

  For a long moment there was a complete hush in the room, as the implications of what Jack had just said began to sink in.

  ‘All right,’ said da Baggio, breaking the silence. ‘Let’s take a step back. As I understand it, all of this may have a bearing on some important research currently being carried out in Sydney. But, does that really concern us here?’

  ‘Oh yes, it does!’ said Jack.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘In a way you couldn’t possibly imagine, and it has to do with the Vatican at the highest level.’

  ‘Please explain,’ said da Baggio.

  ‘I can’t,’ replied Jack, the tone of his voice conspiratorial.

  ‘Come on Jack,’ said the countess, stepping in. She had seen Jack’s antics before. ‘This is too serious ...’

  ‘You are right about that.’

  ‘All right, why can’t you tell us?’ asked the countess.

  ‘Because I gave my word not to talk about it to anyone.’

  ‘Great. First you tell us all this, and then you just leave us ... hanging there?

  ‘Another one of your cliffhangers?’ suggested Tristan. ‘You are not writing a thriller here, Jack.’

  ‘Of course not! And the good news is that you will only be left in suspense for a little while ...’

  ‘How come?’ asked Lorenza.

  ‘Because tomorrow, all will be revealed – and it concerns you most of all, Lorenza.’

  Looking confused, Lorenza shook her head. ‘Me? I don’t understand ...’

  ‘You will, trust me.’ Jack paused and looked around the room. ‘You will know exactly what this is all about when the cardinal gets here.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked da Baggio.

  ‘I spoke to Cardinal Borromeo at the Vatican this morning, and he asked me to prepare you for his visit.’

  ‘Cardinal Borromeo is coming here? Isn’t he the Dean of the College of Cardinals?’

  ‘Yes, that’s him,’ said Jack cheerfully. ‘He’s the one who gave us access to the Vatican archives and helped us find the records. Nice guy.’

  ‘You met him?’

  ‘Oh yes, I did.’

  Da Baggio looked at the countess and shook his head. She shrugged in silent reply. ‘But why? Why is he coming here?’

  ‘Okay, my friends; that’s as far as we can take it for now,’ said Jack, brushing the question aside. ‘Lorenza, any chance of some lunch? I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything proper for days. All that Turkish stuff just isn’t me ...’

  Lorenza turned to Tristan. ‘Can you believe this man? First, he winds us up, and then he wants to eat?’

  ‘That’s Jack. Unpredictable and full of surprises,’ said Tristan, laughing. ‘But never boring.’

 

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