Page 81 of No Escape

“Right,” Father Armando confirmed. “But Stefan is right. Heresy is not a deadly sin. However, looking at the cone from the side, I’ve noted there are nine spirals on it, which, combined with the wordsheresyandlustin Latin, bring to mind a particular book.”

When we all looked at the priest blankly, he sighed. “The Italian master Dante Alighieri’sThe Divine Comedy. Anyone heard of it?”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Gio

It rang a vague bell, but Italian literature had never been my strong suit.

“I’ve heard of it,” Vittoria volunteered.

I grinned. Of course she’d know—she’d been a literature major at the university and now, as a teacher, she always had her head in a book.

“Dante’sInfernoand his nine levels of hell,” she explained. “Heresy and lust are two of the levels, right?”

“Yes, Vittoria, you’re right,” Father Armando said. “There are nine levels of hell in his inferno. But, if I recall the levels correctly, lust is the second circle and heresy is the sixth out of the nine. So, it seems as if the word order is reversed on the cone, if we’re presuming the reference to Dante’sInfernois correct.”

I may not have known Dante, but I was familiar with hell. “Why not just turn the cone upside down so that hell is down and not up?” I suggested. “Isn’t that the way it should be anyway? Hell at our feet.” I lifted the cone off the desk and turned it over. “Look, there’s a frame under here and a marble-size hole that enters into the desk.” The frame was clearly designed to hold the cone mounted upside down. I carefully slid the cone in the frame that was anchored to the desk. Once inserted, the cone rested several inches above the desk, with the hole in the cone aligned directly over the one in the desk.

As I inserted the cone, Winston pointed out that the spiral ridges were reflected on the inside of the cone as well. Our excitement attracted the rest of the team. They abandoned their searches and gathered around to watch us.

“Put the marble in the ridge and see if it works,” Father Armando suggested.

I picked up the marble, placing it at the top of the ridge. This time the marble spun faster and faster as centrifugal force pushed it out against the walls and kept the marble on the track.

Finally, at the bottom, the marble dropped out of the cone and into the hole in the desk. A faint click sounded. I grabbed the handle on the desk drawer and pulled it open.

“Success,” I said, holding up a round, light-blue weight marked with the number four.

Clarissa frowned. “That seemed counterproductive. Why did we have to go through the whole spiral thing? Couldn’t we have just dropped the marble in the hole and been done with it?”

“Maybe,” Winston said, shrugging. “However, it’s also possible the marble tripped something during its spiral. And what if we were wrong? We might have lost the marble and not been able to try again. So, Gio, what’s next?”

I suddenly realized everyone was looking at me. Somehow, I’d been put in command. I suspected that was less because of any perceived skill at escape rooms and more because of my military training. I didn’t mind so long as it kept us on track.

“Let’s get back to looking around,” I said, taking a page from Romeo’s playbook. Looking for clues seemed the best way to go about this. “There are certainly more clues to find.”

Everyone dispersed again. Alessa pulled up all the sofa and chair cushions looking for a clue, while Winston studied the large map on the wall near the card catalog.

Father Armando, Clarissa, and my love, Vittoria, diligently searched the bookshelves, pulling out occasional tomes, looking for hidden compartments or clues. I was beyond impressed by how enthusiastically she participated in every challenge, giving it her all, even though I knew she must be exhausted. I was seeing a new side of her, and I loved it.

“Gio, I found something,” she cried, holding up a torn strip of colored paper. “It was just lying here on the shelf. It has numbers written on it: 4075/1450 H15.”

I walked over to check it out. “Does anyone have any idea what these numbers might mean?”

No one answered, but I didn’t want to discard it just yet. “Even if we don’t know what it means, let’s assume everything is a clue.” I handed the scrap of paper back to Vittoria. “Put it in front of the scale so we don’t lose it. That’ll be our spot for any additional clues or weights that we need to evaluate at a later point.”

I’d just started examining a picture on the wall when Stefan called out. “Hey, guys, check out this old-fashioned card catalog. I haven’t seen one of these in a long time. I presume it has information on all the books in this library.” He pulled out a card and held it between his fingers. “Interesting. The information is printed in English on one side and Italian on the other. I wonder if this might allow Mr. Zachetti to reconfigure the room from Italian- to English-speaking groups by simply pulling out the drawers and turning them around. Clever.”

I agreed. “Keep looking through the card catalog for anything out of place or any other clues. If the cards are in two languages, that must mean something.”

I started to turn away and then had another thought. “Hey, Stefan, see if you can find any books that have titles relating to clues or weights. It’s just a hunch, but we might get lucky.”

“Great idea, bro,” Stefan said. “I’ll see what I can find.”

For the first time, I noticed a sign above the card catalog that readPlease Return All Books. Curious, I walked over and lifted the sign. Sure enough, on the other side it read,Si Prega Di Restituire Tutti i Libri.

Perhaps another clue.

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