Page 122 of The Medici Return

He stopped outside the Pitti Palace. They were here before the site opened for the day and thousands of tourists arrived. It was one of the most popular spots to visit in all of Florence. A grandiose, oblong building, three stories high, longer than several football fields, with windows spanning its length and two great wings on either side that formed the great central block, framing out the famous Boboli Gardens. A security guard waited at the main entrance along with Stephanie Nelle.

Cotton walked over. “I see you are still here. Out in the field. That’s a rarity.”

She smiled. “You need adult supervision.”

He grinned and introduced Stefano.

“I heard what you did saving Richter,” she said to the young priest.

“Just doing my job.”

“Running into the line of fire from a sniper is a bit more than doing your job.” She pointed at Cotton. “Did you tell him to use that line?Doing my job.That’s what you always say too.”

“But it’s true,” both he and Stefano said together.

She shook her head. “You two seem perfect for each other. A couple of loose-cannons-on-the-deck, with a propensity to go rogue.”

Cotton shrugged. “And the problem?”

“Exactly,” she said. “Do you have any idea how many strings I had to pull to get this kind of access?”

“I think it might be worth it. Shall we,” Cotton said, motioning.

And the three of them entered the palace.

CHAPTER 81

STEFANO, ALONG WITH HIS TWO NEWAMERICAN FRIENDS, ENTEREDthe Ammannati Courtyard, which cast a clear feel of imperial Rome with its array of Ionic and Corinthian columns. Many a spectacle had occurred right here through the centuries, the palace long identified with the ruling families of Florence, whether they be Italian, French, or Austrian.

He was impressed with Stephanie Nelle. He’d never before known or been associated with an intelligence agency head outside of the Entity. She was confident and self-assured but not cocky or arrogant. She listened far more than she spoke, which was always the sign of a good leader. Malone seemed to greatly respect her too. She’d arrived yesterday and worked all day with Cardinal Stamm. Cardinal Richter had previously left for Rome to deal with Ascolani. He’d been told that the secretary of state had been relieved of his office, suspended from duties, and arrested. The pope had ordered all of that, along with reappointing Stamm as head of the Entity. Stamm had ordered Stefano to stay in Florence and assist the Americans with whatever they might need. Malone had worked most of yesterday on deciphering the writings of Anna Maria de’ Medici. It was impressive the amount of knowledge the American carried around in his brain.

“I collect information,” Malone had said. “I like facts of all kinds. I accumulate them like some folks keep coins or stamps.”

That and the internet had allowed them to steadily solve a three-hundred-year-old puzzle.

Eric Casaburi died instantly from his wounds, so nothing more would be learned from him. But blood and tissue samples had been preserved from his body. Cardinal Stamm had ordered the bishop who oversaw the village of Panzitta to allow the tomb of Raffaello de’ Pazzi to be opened and a DNA sample taken. They utilized the same expert Casaburi had used with Anna Maria. Late last night the results were delivered. Casaburi was definitely DNA-connected to Raffaello on the paternal side, confirming his parentage back to 1743. That and what they’d found among the archives at Santa Croce seemed to prove that Casaburi was a legitimate heir of a royal Medici.

The only thing missing was a properly executed Pledge of Christ.

The church’s copy was gone. Ascolani had said he destroyed it. Maybe so. Maybe not. No matter. He was never going to acknowledge that it still existed. So they focused on finding the second copy belonging to the Medici.

And Malone thought he knew exactly where it was located.

COTTON LOVED PUZZLES.

They challenged his mind.

And this one had been a great swirling maelstrom of possibilities.

Yesterday he and Stefano had reviewed everything and formed some conclusions. He’d informed Stephanie and told her what was needed. She’d never wavered a moment and assured him it would happen. Now he followed her as she led them into the palace where a middle-aged woman waited. She was introduced as the museum curator, in charge of all the palace collections.

And they were vast.

Room after room of paintings and sculptures, along with finechina, silver- and goldsmithery, furniture, and other royal fittings. Most came from the Medici, part of Anna Maria’s Family Pact, but much more had been added in the centuries since the family’s demise. She led them through the palace to a space identified as the Room of the Jewels. An object sat atop one of the glass cases. About two inches long and that much wide. A small cradle, gold enameled with pearls and diamonds.

“I thought you might like to see this,” the curator said. “It is one of the many jeweled trinkets that Anna Maria Luisa de’ Medici bequeathed to Florence. It was given to her by her husband, Johann Wilhelm, Elector Palatine, as an augury for the announced, and much desired, birth of an heir. Sadly, that never came true as she miscarried. I was told yesterday about what you have discovered. If you look close, between the two rockers are the wordsAUGUROR EVENIAT. I wish it will come.”

“The same thing she wrote in her diary,” Cotton said. “And what was also inside the Pazzi tomb.”

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