Page 62 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

“Don Consolini,” he addresses me formally, giving me a slight bow. I take it from his behavior that we have company. “Professor Castellano’s lawyer is here to see you.”

"Ah, right on time," I say, setting down my plate and discarding the idea of grabbing another sandwich. I am impatient, and my shoulders are settling back. Please, show him in."

"I can leave if you need privacy?" Camela asks hesitantly.

"No, stay," I insist, offering her a reassuring smile. “You’re practically family, after all.”

She looks at me with wide eyes, like she wasn’t expecting me to say that. The truth is, I don’t know where those words came from either. But the more I think about it, the more I realize they’re true.

Camela feels like a kindred spirit, like family.

Moments later, the lawyer enters the room, looking somewhat confused by the casual atmosphere. His gaze flits between Camela and me, clearly unsure how to proceed. I gesture for him to continue, unwilling to let the tension build any further.

“You may speak frankly in front of the lady, Guido,” I tell him.

A member of my staff enters, offers the lawyer a tray of cookies and iced tea, and leaves. The lawyer sips on the cold tea, and ignores the cookies.

"Mr. Consoline," the lawyer finally starts. "I have been instructed to deliver this safety deposit box and sealed envelope to you personally." He places the items on the coffee table in front of us.

"Both are related to Professor Castellano's death. I haven't opened the letter, as per his instructions and know nothing more."

"Thank you," I reply, my gaze fixed on the items before me. I try to calm down; my foot taps against the floor. Everything in me hopes that whatever is in that envelope will give us clarity on what happened to Julian.

"Is there anything else?" I ask the lawyer, who shakes his head in response.

"Nothing more, Mr. Consolini. I'll take my leave now." With that, he slips out of the room, leaving Camela and me alone with the mysterious contents of the safety deposit box.

I pick up the envelope, examining it carefully. The seal is intact. Julian always said his lawyer was trustworthy.

"Here goes nothing," I mutter, sitting down next to Camela. Her eyes are wide, and nervous energy radiates from her as she watches me break the seal and pull out the contents of the envelope.

Inside, there's a letter. My fingers tremble slightly as I unfold it: ‘In the case of my death, please open this safe with the code mentioned below.’

"Julian must have known he was in danger," I say aloud. Suddenly, a sadness crawls over me. My poor friend. What burdens did he carry alone? If only he’d shared them with me, I might have been able to help him, maybe even save his life. Camela reaches over and touches my shoulder gently, rubbing circles behind my neck. She doesn’t need words to know how I feel.

"Should we open the safe?" Her eyes shift reluctantly between the safe and me.

"Of course." I take a deep breath and put the code in the safe. We hear a small click, and then I turn the handle. Inside, we find a recording. On the recording are the same devastating words itched in ink: In the case of my death.

Camela walks over to the bookshelf and brings over my laptop, which has been charging there. With shaking hands, I insert the video CD into the player. We sit side by side, our shoulders brushing against each other as we lean in, watching the screen with bated breath.

Julian's image flickers to life on the screen, and I smile sadly when I hear his voice. "Vincenzo, my friend, If you're watching this, then I'm no longer able to tell you in person. Please forgive me for not sharing this sooner; I really didn’t see the point of both of us fretting over this. And I do apologize for now making my burden your problem."

Camela and I exchange glances.

The recording flickers as Julian's image speaks. "I've found an artifact, an arrow from that iconic shipwreck I found in the corner of the Tyrrhenian, the one that was featured all over the media. The thing is," he pauses and rubs his hand over the back of his neck as though he’s feeling ashamed at admitting this.

"I instantly felt power in this arrow and decided to keep it as a souvenir and never told a soul. Over time, I learned its dark secrets. It’s no myth, Vincenzo. The arrow is real, and so is its power. It glows, Vincenzo, when you see it, it’s otherworldly.

I’ve tried to find the mechanism by which it generates this light, but it remains baffling." Julian looks so animated when he speaks of this thing. My first instinct is to shake my head and pity him. He comes across as one of the many who were caught up in the gold rush.

"I started dreaming of this arrow, Vincenzo. I kept it safe in my room of treasures, but it was as if it were calling out to me. You know I am a man of science, but I can’t explain this. So I did some digging and found images in ancient texts of the very same arrow. It is said to have once been the property of a great god; it was stolen from Cupid himself. It’s not a thing of legends, I promise you, its real. It has power over the strongest emotion known to humankind – love. There are people out there looking for it. If I’m dead, find the arrow. If you can’t, please know someone killed me for it and that it has fallen into the wrong hands. And that, Vincenzo," Julian shakes his head with a horrified expression, "that would spell tragedy. It could bring nations to their knees if it is used nefariously. It could ruin the world."

Julian speaks earnestly, looking straight into the camera. "You’ll find a photo of the arrow attached to the bottom of the CD cover. Be safe, my friend. It’s only you I could trust."

The video ends here. For a brief second, I sit paralyzed, trying to process what I just saw. Then, with trembling hands, I reach for the cover. I bring it above my eye level, and there, I see a small Polaroid stuck to the bottom.

It's a photo of an ornate arrow with an inverted heart tip, gleaming in the dim light. Intricate carvings adorn its shaft. The arrow appears to be made of a material unknown to me, emitting a faint, ethereal glow around it.

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