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Nevermore/Enygma Files
Vol.5/Chapter 88: Per Aspera, Ad Astra

Vol.5/Chapter 88: Per Aspera, Ad Astra

Chapter 88

Per Aspera, Ad Astra

October 13th. 2014. Ancient Era.

Rome, Italy.

The old man looked at the city from the balcony of the hotel room, unhurried, but with thoughts racing in his head. Rome stretched out before him like a painting, its ancient buildings bathed in golden light in the late afternoon. Violet, his wife, rested by the hotel pool, oblivious to the shadows obscuring her husband's thoughts.

She thought they were there on vacation, enjoying a getaway as they had been doing lately. But that was only a half-truth.

The real reason for their presence in Rome was much more complicated. A weight in his chest, invisible to Violet's eyes, constantly reminded him of the mission he had to accomplish. He couldn't talk about it, couldn't tell her. She would never understand.

Carl Scott was there to take matters into his own hands.

That premonition two years ago, that something was going to go wrong when he had seen Leteo and Jack board the military plane on the island of Diego Garcia, had come true. From there the two had traveled to the Maldives with that damned machine and boarded a new plane, and from there they had disappeared minutes before arriving at the Geneva airport.

The disappearance of the plane in 2012, still haunted him like a ghost that did not want to let go. The world had moved on, while he was plunged into an abyss of uncertainty. It wasn't just the accident that had marked him, it was what came after.

Absolute silence. Deny everything. Avoiding the scandal.

Leaving everything in the hands of the relevant authorities, but at the same time with some people holding back the investigation. The kingdom did not want to know anything about the matter, and was trying by all means to sweep the dirt under the carpet.

The death of Maximilian Norton a year after the disappearance of the plane, and who was one of the main sponsors of the project that had started it all decades ago, had sealed any hope of unraveling the truth of what happened to the flight that had transported Leteo and Jack. The agency, where Carl had worked for years, had changed and the new politicians and people in important positions were more than eager to erase any trace of the past.

It certainly didn't look like the Kingdom he had served for so many years. While lying was part of the job in his past, corruption was not his style. Asking for help from the other two countries of the Empire to meddle in the affairs of the Kingdom's royal family could get him into trouble. Mexico and Canada would not interfere in internal affairs unless it was something that threatened the Imperial bloc of the three allied countries.

Carl Scott had been threatened not to stick his nose where it didn't belong, but those threats had only pushed him to act.

In his head echoed the conversations with Jack, who had told him the details he knew and could tell to Carl about the future. Those two stones had been crucial in time travel and, according to Jack, they would be crucial in the future as well. But the rock they had now had disappeared on the flight in 2012, along with his friends.

But all was not lost. There was the other one.

He would have left things as they were, but he didn't want to. What had been the point of the three of them giving their lives to make it work, if in the end when the plane had disappeared all three of them had been thrown away? And when he had tried to ask if there were any clues, all he had received were threats and slaps on the back?

One way or another he wanted to know the truth. And for that he knew perfectly well where the other half of that rock was: the secret tunnels of the Vatican under Piazza San Pietro.

The key piece was there, stored in a suitcase, and no one else knew its exact location. It had been left behind by Father Vernetti and DiMati, the priest and that scientist who had worked on their own original project. So many years had passed since that first meeting in Venice and now Carl was the only one left of that group. But if that stone was to follow its course into the future, as Jack had implied, then the piece to reveal the truth could also be there.

A sigh escaped his lips as he remembered what he was about to do. Stealing a stone from the Vatican tunnels at his age. It was madness, but there was no other option. If everything went wrong, if he didn't return in less than 24 hours, his personal computer would release a file that would reveal everything to the world. It was an e-mail telling the details anonymously, but in detail to some of the major newspapers in the Kingdom and the Empire. No one else would know, no one else could understand it as he did, but the truth had to come out. He could not carry this secret any longer.

Carl Scott looked up from the Roman sunset and re-entered the room and headed for the closet. He knew that what he was about to do could cost him his life, but it didn't matter anymore. He was too close to the end and already had one foot in the coffin anyway.

If he could get the stone, he could finally find out what had happened to the plane and expose those responsible. He had the file that would be released if anything happened to him or his wife. If he failed... well, at least the pieces of his life would have a purpose. And he had arranged for his wife and the rest of his family to be fine.

He dressed in discreet clothing, a suit that was a bit too big for his age, and stowed a few items in his clothes: a map, a piece of paper, and a small flashlight. He would need all that in the dark underground passages of the Vatican. He had to be thankful that during his time at the RIA he had made copies of some files. The RIA had known about those tunnels in the Vatican since World War II.

He almost forgot the photo that he carried everywhere since few months. He took it and put it in his jacket pocket.

Determined, he left the room, went upstairs to see his beautiful wife and kissed her and told her he was going for a walk. Then he went downstairs and left the hotel for the Vatican.

The Vatican was overflowing with tourists, although people were beginning to leave. Carl walked through the streets adjacent to the Holy City, avoiding the hustle and bustle. His age offered him an advantage: no one looked twice at him anymore. An old man strolling through the city. No one would think him capable of what he was about to do.

As he walked he thought of all the possibilities he had and the other paths he took. It seemed incredible to him that at his age he could hardly trust the people he had once known from work. Things had changed too much. He had even tried to contact Gehirn, but he had kept himself hidden. His company had started to gain a lot of popularity in the world, but in the public eye he had relegated everything to other people to handle the exposed aspect of the company, while he remained in the shadows.

He did not believe it was possible. But he had even come to wonder if Gehirn was not in cahoots with the people who did not want to investigate the matter. The fact that Gehirn himself had not contacted him after Jack and Letho's disappearance was strange, since they had been good friends in the past.

Be that as it may, he was there at that moment.

The Vatican building through which he would enter loomed before him, imposing. Carl Scott needed no maps, no guides in that part. He knew exactly where to go.

During one of his adventures around the world looking for the pieces decades ago, he had stopped at the Vatican on a couple of occasions. On one of those occasions Vernetti had given them a tour of the secret parts of the Holy City, showing them a series of paths and passageways that connected the entire Vatican like a series of secret labyrinths.

Passing through those parts secret from the public he had gone to reach the Apostolic Palace itself and from there to the Archives. To the entrance to the underground tunnels, where Vernetti had left the stone, inside one of the suitcases of that machine he had built together with Di Mati to observe the past.

There was no one around at that hour and his old man appearance would have almost made him blend in well in that part. Maybe they would think he was part of the place or one of the Old Swiss Guard in that dark suit.

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Carl crossed the threshold of a small side door that was normally closed to the public. No one stopped him. In fact, no one seemed to notice his presence. The door closed behind him with an almost imperceptible sound. He took a deep breath. He knew that at that moment there was no turning back. Following his map he had gone down the stairs and through a couple of corridors into those parts that no one had been down for a long time.

The tunnels were dark and cold. The stone walls, covered some with dust and dampness in other, surrounded him as he made his way down the narrow corridor. With each step, he felt the pressure on his chest, that tightness he only felt when he was close to real danger, he just hoped he wouldn't have a heart attack in that place.

In his mind, he mingled with memories of his youth, of the days when he was so sure of himself. The old Carl Scott. The man who had once traveled the world in search of secrets that no one should know, was no more than a shadow of that man. But today, at least for that last time, that shadow would have to suffice.

He had passed through an old corridor that smelled musty and turned on the flashlight to walk more safely when the darkness enveloped him. Old wooden boxes from another time awaited him on both sides of the tunnel. It must be just below St. Peter's Square. He walked down the long corridor searching until he found what he was looking for.

He remembered that machine equipped in suitcases because DiMati had once shown them to him and Jack when they stopped at the Vatican.

He reached over and picked up the suitcase where he knew the stone was, the one marked 1986-CV-V-dM on the side. No one had touched that piece of history in many years. No one except him.

With steady hands he opened the case.

There was the stone, a dark-colored rock, unchanged in all those years. It was just as it had been when he had first seen it, when Yanagida had delivered that part to Vernetti and DiMati.

Carl Scott pursed his lips and nodded. Two more days and he would return to the United States Kingdom and put his plan into action. Half of it was done. All that remained was to get out of that place and enjoy the next few days and then catch the plane with Violet.

He closed the suitcase again and wanted to start the return trip, but stopped short and opened his eyes in surprise as he pointed his flashlight at the road back.

He had been diagnosed with progressive hearing loss for about four years, but he still judged that he could hear quite well. That wasn't the case now, though. Otherwise he would have noticed.

What Carl Scott didn't know was that, that same night, someone else was also watching his movements from the shadows. A shadow that had followed him all over the city and had descended behind him into those tunnels. A shadow that, unlike him, was dressed appropriately so as not to attract attention.

It was a man dressed as a priest in his mid-forties, with blond hair combed back. He had dark circles around his eyes that could well be from substance abuse.

“It's nothing personal, old man,” said the voice of a man who sounded rather bored. There were two flashes from a silenced gun in the tunnel and the flashlight escaped from Carl Scott's hands.

One bullet had pierced his heart and another his left lung. Now he had done it.

He fell to the floor, while he felt the blood soaking his clothes.

He had no strength to move. The man took the flashlight that Scott had let go and shined it in his face.

“I'm sorry,” the shooter said in a voice tone that clearly didn't express the words escaping his mouth, “but this is just business. I don't usually take on assignments to kill old folks but, the pay was good.”

Scott spat blood as his vision began to blur. He wanted to say a few words, but only a gurgle of blood escaped his throat. The assassin in turn bent down and went through all the pockets of his suit. Carl Scott tried to move his arms and stop him, but he already felt very weak. The assassin went through the pockets and pulled out the map. He put the map in his pants pocket.

“He should have told me this was a labyrinth,” the killer muttered. Then he reached into Carl's small pants pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. “This is what Mr. J. wanted, I guess.”

J? Who's that? Scott thought. Had they been following his movements all along? Who and what did they know? Scott was filled with a dread to check that paper the killer had pulled out. If that's why he was being followed, then they knew what that paper was.

His memory was not what it used to be and that's why he carried in his pocket those passwords for his devices. Among them was the password for the laptop he had left at the hotel.

Violet! Carl thought.

Scott cursed his stupidity at that moment. Why hadn't he left that paper at the hotel or why hadn't he hidden the laptop?

He had never counted on actually being watched on vacation. Which meant that whoever his enemy was had not underestimated him even though he was already an old man. But he had underestimated the enemy. What if those who had followed him had intended to find the location of the suitcase?

The assassin then took the industrial suitcase box that Scott had removed and placed it on the wooden box next to the others and checked it.

“What's inside? Anything valuable?”

The assassin proceeded to open and looked at the contents. “Bah,” he said bored. “I don't know it's that valuable but it's really not worth it if you pay for it with your life, old man,” he let out with a sigh closing the suitcase and to Scott's amazement put the suitcase back with the other two boxes, as if it had never moved from its place.

The assassin turned and looked at him. “Oh! You were thinking I'd come for whatever that thing is? No thanks, reputation is important. I don't want to end up hanging under a bridge, or wearing cement moccasins for sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. The pay is enough.”

The assassin crouched down and looked at him. “I could get you out of here, so they can find you somewhere else so they can bury you, but it's a pain in the ass and I can get caught. Not counting where I am.” With that said he sat up and pointed the flashlight in several directions. “Whatever.” He bent down and picked up Scott's body and laid him leaning against a wall between two old boxes, where he could hardly move even if he had any strength left.

“Goodbye, old man,” he said and started walking away. Halfway there he stopped and scratched his head. “Ah. I only had orders to shoot you and no one else. You take it easy on your wife, old man. This is all against you, but your family had nothing to do with it. Jeez, old people always leave a bad taste in my mouth,” he said, clicking his tongue as he walked away.

Carl Scott almost wanted to smile at that. Well, that was all he could wish for, and this time he had asked for it.

Whoever had ordered those two bullets for him, they wanted to make sure that the box stayed there until someone came to remove it in the future.

His body would have to stay there, probably until the day they came for it. He was not very hopeful that her body would be discovered for a long time.

What would his family say? What would happen to them? They were well off financially, their daughter was already married with two children. He could only hope for the best for them.

With his last remaining strength, he took his trembling hand to his coat pocket, the only place the murderer had not touched, probably because of the amount of blood and to avoid leaving a clue to his identity in case he was found or something.

From that pocket he extracted an old lighter and a laminated photo. That lighter had been a gift from Jack when he retired from the Agency. Jack's favorite phrase was engraved on that lighter.

Per Aspera, Ad Astra. Through suffering, to the stars. Convenient, Carl thought.

He opened the lighter and lit it, illuminating the photo.

It was a picture of his daughter Rose, with the two girls, his beloved granddaughters Louise and Alyssa. Louise was already fourteen years old and was as beautiful as her mother when she was younger. Alyssa was the newcomer, having inherited the eyes of her father, Charlie.

At the tremulous flame of the lighter Carl Scott smiled and the light left his eyes.

He had died with his boots on, as they used to say in the old days on the job.

“Hey, are you dying?” As his consciousness faded, he could have sworn he was hearing a woman's voice with a certain childlike tone.

Surely a delirium of his mind falling into the deep and liberating sleep of death.

Or at least he hoped so.

He had regrets that he would never know the truth, but in death that no longer mattered. In spite of all he had seen in his life he had kept a religious faith, if only to appease the doubts in his mind.

Whatever lay beyond, he supposed he would find out in a few seconds.

Heaven or hell or perhaps just an infinite darkness where his being would dissolve forever.

Or maybe as the phrase on that lighter said, maybe the stars were his final destination. He was past the per aspera part, right?

“Hey, are you dying?” Carl Scott heard again as his consciousness faded and he left the world.

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