Treasured Dreams (7 page)

‘That's brilliant, Alessandro,' Archer said. ‘So what happened then?'

‘The plane was next documented in Munda in the Solomon Islands.'

Rosalina snapped her fingers. ‘Oh Jimmy, do you remember we found that gold star on Wade's globe, right over the Solomon Islands?'

Jimmy beamed. ‘Sure do, and that's why we're heading there.'

Archer huffed and shot a glance at Jimmy. His clenched jaw showed his annoyance.

Rosalina folded her arms across her chest and turned her attention to Archer. ‘Oh, we are, are we?'

Archer placed his hand over hers and sighed. ‘I was going to talk to you about it in private later.' He glanced sideways at Jimmy.

‘Whoops.' Jimmy took a large gulp of his wine.

‘We think this is worth looking into.' Archer's brow furrowed as he gazed at Rosalina with pleading eyes.

‘What? We're just going to sail into the Solomon Islands and find forty tonnes of gold sitting right there on the beach?' Rosalina ran her clenched fists over her thighs. ‘So far our treasure hunting has scored us nothing but bullet wounds, knife injuries, broken ribs, broken legs, and a ruined yacht. We have nothing else to show for it.' She hoped they heard the fury quivering in her own voice.

‘Not nothing. We have the monkey statue. And the cannon.' Archer cocked his head, and the lights highlighted the gold flecks around his irises. His signature move annoyed her this time.

She'd forgotten all about the monkey statue. It was the only piece of treasure other than the cannon that hadn't been stolen from them. They'd found the one-metre statue at the bottom of the ocean, and rather than hide it with all the other pieces, they'd positioned it at the end of the lower bar. It was a miracle it wasn't stolen. Although it was heavy, Ignatius had enough men to help him lift it, so the only reason they could work out as to why the precious piece had been left behind was because Ignatius simply didn't notice it. He must've walked right past it several times when he stole all the other treasure. The cannon, on the other hand, was definitely too heavy to move.

‘What's happened to the monkey statue and the cannon anyway?' she said.

Alessandro sat down beside Ginger and their fingers immediately intertwined on her lap. ‘The cannon is in storage at the Accademia di Belle Arti, and the monkey statue is sealed up in a crate,' Alessandro said. ‘We were waiting to see if all the other pieces of the Calimala treasure resurfaced, so we could document them together. But it looks like they're
finito
.'

‘It's hard to believe over fifty ancient relics have simply vanished.' Archer's words were laced with the tone of defeat. When he curled his arm over Rosalina's shoulder, his chest rose and fell with a long sigh. She softened her resolve and snuggled in.

Rosalina hadn't had much time to think about the missing treasure. But she couldn't deny that she too was disheartened that they had nothing to show for all their hard work. Ignatius had paid for the theft with his life, but whoever he was working with may have gotten away with a priceless fortune.

Chapter Eight

Nox's luck was finally changing for the better. After he'd walked out of the Church of St Apostoli unnoticed, it had only taken him two hours to find Nurse Isabella's car.

Thanks to the little central-locking opener on the set of keys he'd found in her pocket, all he had to do was walk the streets around the church, pressing the button, until the lights on the silver Fiat Linear lit up. In addition to that lucky find, the car had a full tank of petrol. The ruby red stones in the antique ring offered a warm inner glow when the dashboard lit up.

It was a sign. A very good sign.

The Linear made his mission a whole lot easier. Until he'd found the car, he hadn't really processed how he was going to kidnap Rosalina.

Next on his agenda was locating that old orphanage. He'd remembered it was on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and he remembered the day he, along with all the boys, had been loaded up into one of two buses and moved from that imposing building to the new orphanage next to the Church of St Apostoli in the middle of Florence. If his recall was accurate, the bus trip had taken just over two hours.

Armed with that information, he headed towards Livorno. It was very convenient that Livorno was also the place where the helicopter had crashed into Archer's yacht. He just hoped that
Evangeline
, and in particular, Rosalina hadn't moved away since he'd seen news footage of the helicopter crash weeks ago.

Nox arrived at Livorno early on a Friday morning and, out of curiosity, went straight to the marina.

He parked the car, but on account of the serious security he could do little else other than glance from a distance at the rows and rows of boats lined up in the marina. There were so many boats. A ridiculous amount of money floated out there. He had viewed
Evangeline
through high-powered binoculars so often while following Rosalina and her friends in the Greek Islands that he knew without a doubt he would recognise the enormous yacht.

Not today, though.

Even so, buoyed by the reasoning that he couldn't possibly see all the boats in the marina from his position at the fence, he clung to the hope that Archer's yacht might still be out there.

He strode back to his car, and when he noticed an information booth alongside the fancy marina shops, he headed towards it. As he glanced around, wishing for a chance sighting of Archer or Rosalina, he ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down. Despite actually
being
a homeless person, he didn't want to look like one.

Nox walked past two restaurants. One looked very fancy, with double white table cloths, highly polished silver, and an abundance of waiters, eager to please. The other restaurant, with its wooden bench tables and glass canisters loaded with cutlery, was much more casual. The smells of bacon and tomato had his stomach snarling, and the urge to reach over one of the tables and snatch the food right off someone's plate was powerful. He did resist though, and made it to the information booth without incident.

He stepped through the door and walked up to the young brunette woman at the counter. Nox refrained from smiling. His teeth were already yellow when he'd left Florence months ago; he'd hate to think what they looked like now. He had no idea when he'd last brushed them.

‘
Buongiorno
.' She smiled as he approached.

‘
Buongiorno. Ho una strana richiesta, sai di un vecchio orfanotrofio abbandonato qui da qualche parte
?' Nox didn't need to enter into small talk; he just hoped the woman wasn't too young to remember the old orphanage that he prayed was near here.

She frowned at him and shook her head. ‘
Non mi dispiace
.'

‘It was a big old building that was built right on the edge of the cliff. Around here somewhere.'

‘On a cliff? Well from here towards the direction of Pisa there are mainly sandy beaches, so maybe heading south is the best thing to do. If you drive along the Stada Statale One you may find it.' She smiled.

Nox smiled too, and when the woman eased back from the counter he quickly clammed his lips over his teeth again.

He left the information booth and as he walked towards the casual restaurant, a party of four people started rising from the table. Nox did a quick assessment of the restaurant and decided no staff were watching.

The foursome was no sooner off their seats than Nox was at their table, forcing as much of the leftover food as he could into his mouth. As he chomped down on the crispy bacon, he shoved a half-eaten bread roll into his pocket, along with two foil packets of butter. He was nearly through a leftover egg when one of the waiters came storming towards him.

Nox put his hands up in a ‘calm down' gesture and backed away from the table. He snatched a half-empty water bottle off another table as he raced out of the restaurant. They wouldn't follow him … of that he was certain. He'd stolen food in this fashion from restaurants on many occasions, and not once had the staff ever chased him. They probably felt sorry for him. Or disgusted. Either way, it was an ideal way to get a quick, free feed.

By the time he reached the car, he'd finished the bread roll and two small slabs of butter. Nox slipped in behind the wheel and started the engine. He didn't bother to look over the boats again. He would try again once he'd located the old orphanage.

Nox navigated his way out of Livorno, and his plan was to keep the ocean on his right. That way he could navigate his way to the road the closest to the ocean.

Within half an hour, he was on the Stada Statale One. It was a picturesque drive, with vast blue ocean stretching as far as he could see and meeting with the equally blue sky. It seemed every stretch of road had been developed with hotel after hotel, all built to maximise their exposure to the view. Occasionally the road took him inland, but before long it would swing back towards the sea again.

Twenty minutes later, the buildings became less frequent. When Nox saw train tracks that ran parallel to the road, he was certain he was headed in the right direction. He had a vivid memory of seeing a train from the overcrowded bus all those years ago. It had been the first time he'd ever seen a train, despite hearing them on many occasions as he'd lain in bed at night.

It was a strange thing to be going back to the building where he had first learnt fear. The hairs on his neck bristled at the reflection.

A train suddenly appeared out of nowhere and shot past him with a fierce clickety-clack. Nox slowed down and counted the carriages as they whizzed by. Twelve. The train he'd seen last time he'd been on this strip of road had just six carriages. An increase of two carriages for every decade that had transpired.

Since he'd hit this road, it seemed his was the only car that skirted along the edge of the cliff. There was no barrier that would save a wayward driver from plummeting straight into the ocean some thirty or so metres below. Nox wound down his window and smelt the crisp ocean air. He wasn't too fond of that smell after spending months trapped on a deserted island with a couple of crazy twin brothers, although that time of his life already seemed like a lifetime ago.

Once again the road veered inland, and scraggy bush that had battled the brutal ocean breezes lined the bitumen at drastic angles. A road appeared on his right, and the second he passed it, he knew it was the one. He didn't know how he knew; he just did.

After locating a place to turn, he headed back to the road and veered left into it. Disfigured trees lined the first part of the road, but that soon changed to spindly grass and ragged weeds. Within seconds, Nox spied a large terracotta rooftop and knew he'd arrived.

The building was impressive. A large stone castle, dominating the ocean point had it situated like a fortress. A vine that had threatened to take over the lower half of the building had long ago died. Now it resembled jagged black veins creeping all over the stone walls.

Holes puncturing the brick walls had once been windows, though their black bars remained. The dilapidated condition of the old building was a welcome sight, because it meant nobody had moved in since the children and paedophiles had been shipped out. However, it didn't stop the deep and bitter loneliness Nox had suffered as a child threatening to well up in him.

Nox shoved the untimely feelings aside as he curved around the crumbling four-tiered concrete fountain and pulled the car right up to the front steps. It was impossible to hide the car anywhere else. His only hope was that nobody would come wandering this way.

The wind caught his hair and whipped it around his face as he stepped out of the car. He pulled it back from his eyes and held it there as he shut the car door and stepped on the mouldy concrete steps that curved up to the front door. He was halfway up the stairs before the wind settled enough to let his hair go.

Nox took a moment to take in the building. Three large arched windows had once been an impressive architectural feature of the grand design, but the only glass that remained was at the very top of the arch. The vine he'd noticed from afar was covered in sharp thorns that stuck out like little razor blades all over the twigs.

Some of the upper-floor windows had the remains of shutters. Two of them dangled precariously and threatened to drop off at any moment.

Nox stepped up to the front door. Someone had put a padlock on it but the metal bolt it was attached to had long ago fallen off and dangled below the lock. Nox pushed on the double doors, and the left one creaked open.

He stepped into the vast foyer. Bricks of foreboding stacked in his stomach as long-forgotten memories flooded back.

He had been a small child when one of the sisters had dragged him by the ear to this once-grand foyer and made him stand with his hands at his sides as she explained that this very spot was where his parents had abandoned him.

He couldn't remember the sister's name, but he could remember the blue veins popping out all over her hands after she'd slapped him across the face. Apparently his parents hadn't so much as wrapped him in a blanket before they'd placed him in the cardboard box. They'd probably thought he'd have a wonderful life in the beautiful stone building overlooking the picturesque ocean setting.

He hadn't.

The entrance floor was covered in so many dried leaves, splinters of wood, and peeling paint and plaster that it was impossible to make out the black, white and red mosaic tile pattern he knew was there. As he stepped over the debris, he had the strange feeling he was coming home.

He was surprised the place wasn't covered in graffiti.
Maybe it was haunted?
The thought made Nox chuckle. He didn't believe in ghosts. If he did, he'd have a hell of a time sleeping at night given the number of lives he'd extinguished with his own hands.

A set of stairs to his left, also covered in peeled paint and plaster, curled up the wall to an upper landing. The steps creaked under his weight, but they felt every bit as solid as they had thirty years ago. What looked like decades of dust caked his hand as he glided it along the once highly polished balustrade.