Riley sighed. “Abigail, I said to not go out to the balcony and to stay away from windows.”

  She shrugged. “I was only peeking a little.”

  “Milo could be a problem. I hope he doesn’t follow us around.”

  “No, he’ll probably have his nose in a book and go from one library to another. That is, after he spends plenty of time in Pompeii and here in Herculaneum.” Abigail shuddered.

  “What is it?”

  “I really don’t like staying in Naples, or Herculaneum for that matter. It’s like Russian roulette.”

  “I don’t take your meaning.” Riley sat on a white vinyl chair opposite the one in which Abigail was sitting by the bed.

  She stood up and paced across to the window before pacing back again. “I’m Facebook friends with a professor who’s a vulcanologist. She was on vacation recently and wanted to see Pompeii, but she stayed on the Amalfi coast, which she said was a safe distance from Vesuvius. But here, we are right under the path of Vesuvius.” Abigail threw up her hands in horror. “I really don’t like volcanoes. They scare me. That’s why I’ve never been to Hawaii.”

  “But what did you mean by Russian roulette?”

  Abigail sat down on the chair with a thud and ran her hands through her hair. “In the 79 A.D. eruption of Vesuvius, the wind was blowing in a southeasterly direction, as was usual for late fall and winter. There have been eight recorded Plinian eruptions of Vesuvius, and scientists believe they are likely to happen in late fall or winter when the wind will be blowing toward the east. There was another Plinian eruption in December of 1631, and it went in the same direction, destroying Torre Annunziata, which is very close to Pompeii. It’s late fall now, and if Vesuvius erupts, we will be right in its path.”

  Riley nodded slowly. “I see. But if we’re in Naples, we’ll be safe?”

  “No, only if it’s a Plinian eruption. That’s what I meant by Russian Roulette. If it’s a Plinian eruption at this time of year, we should be safe in Naples. But if it’s not a Plinian eruption, we might be safer here.”

  Riley chuckled.

  “I don’t know what’s so funny,” Abigail said crossly. “I certainly don’t want to be in the way of a volcanic eruption.”

  “But surely there would be some warning,” Riley said.

  “There were plenty of warnings in 79 A.D.,” Abigail admitted. “There had been plenty of earthquakes leading up to the eruption.”

  “Then there’s nothing to worry about. There haven’t been any tremors recorded here for ages. At any rate, to make you feel better, we will find the Spear of Destiny and get out of here as fast as we can,” Riley said. “Anyway, that’s what I wanted to speak with you about.”

  “The Spear of Destiny?” Abigail said.

  Riley nodded and then shook his head. “Yes, I want to know all about that, but I did want to ask you something else. RHTF usually tells me to find something but doesn’t tell me the history, so I’m usually googling it on the plane on the way over to wherever I’m sent. I did do that now, but it was somewhat confusing.”

  “That’s because there are several spears which have laid claim to being the Spear of Destiny,” Abigail said. “Several of them have a rich history, so it’s become intertwined and confusing.”

  “It sure has,” Riley said. “Is there anything to eat?” He reached for a packet of cookies between an electric jug and a plate of tea bags, instant coffee, and packets of sugar and sweetener.

  “Sure, you can have the cookies,” Abigail said. “I’ve lost my appetite. What else you want to ask me about?”

  “The codex,” Riley said. “I was so busy googling the Spear of Destiny that I didn’t google what a codex was. The director only said it was an ancient notebook.”

  “That’s exactly what a codex is, an ancient notebook. It’s thought Julius Caesar was one of the first to use them. Basically, they were papyrus sheets bound together to form a notebook. In the library of the Villa of the Papyri, here at Herculaneum, only scrolls were found. Cicero, who lived around that time, mentioned codices. Still, the codex became highly popular with Christians less than fifty years later.”

  Riley nodded. “Like I said, the Codex owned by Giles Benedict has been authenticated as ancient, possibly first or second century, but they weren’t able to narrow down the timeframe.”

  “It makes sense that ancient Christians owned it, as they appear to be the ones who made the codex form widespread.”

  “And the Spear of Destiny. The director said Vortex might believe it has supernatural powers.”

  Abigail sipped from her bottle of water before speaking. “Legend has it that whoever claims the Spear of Destiny will possess mystical powers and will be able to conquer the world. The Spear of Destiny—one of them, at least—was numbered among religious relics known as the Imperial Regalia. In Mein Kampf, Hitler mentioned that the Imperial Regalia appeared to act as ‘magical relics’. Some say Hitler had the Spear of Destiny in his possession during his most successful campaigns.”

  Riley stood and stretched. “Well, that’s enough information for me. Get some sleep, and again, don’t answer the door unless to me. You know the drill by now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Abigail said with a chuckle. “I’ll follow orders.”

  Riley shook his finger at her playfully. “See that you do.”

  “So, let me get this clear. Our mission is to find the Spear of Destiny and give it to Relic Hunters Task Force?”

  Riley nodded. “And if we can’t retrieve it, at least make sure it stays hidden for a few more centuries at least.”

  One thing bothered Abigail. “Okay, if we do get it, how on earth will we get it through customs?”

  “You don’t need to worry about that. RHTF always has things like that covered.”

  Abigail was tempted to ask how, but she expected Riley wouldn’t be able to answer. They said goodnight to each other. As Riley was half out the door, he said, “Lock the door behind me and then fix one of those chairs under it.”

  “Sure,” Abigail said.

  After she took a quick shower, she jumped into bed. The pillows were nice and soft. She was just drifting off to sleep when her phone pinged. She grabbed it off the nightstand and looked at the screen. It was a text from Milo. ‘You don’t think there will be a Plinian eruption while we’re here, do you?’

  She texted back, ‘I hope not. Goodnight.’

  Milo apparently didn’t take the hint, because he texted back, ‘Where are you going tomorrow?’

  Abigail did not respond. She turned her phone over and promptly fell asleep.

  10

  POMPEII, 79 A.D.

  5 DAYS BEFORE THE ERUPTION

  Gaius rubbed his hands together with glee. He was the biggest garum merchant in Pompeii, but his ambition stretched further than that. He wanted to be the biggest garum merchant in Neapolis as well, and then the biggest garum merchant in Rome. So far, people with political ambitions had stood in his way. And while he was wealthy, he didn’t have the resources to fulfill his lofty ambitions. Yet now, he had word that the Spear of Destiny was in Pompeii.

  Gaius was not a particularly religious man, but he did make offerings to the Lares and to the Ephesian Diana. His time visiting his brother in Ephesus had prompted that, as his brother and his brother’s wife’s family were all followers of Diana. While in Ephesus, Gaius had heard all about the Spear of Destiny that possessed mystical powers. Whoever held the Spear of Destiny would have supreme power and wealth.

  Gaius was thrilled. He had plenty of Jewish customers and they told stories of Moses who had a special rod that did magical things. Maybe this Spear of Destiny was like that. When he was a child, his tutors of course had made him read Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. He remembered that the goddess, Athena, turned Odysseus into an old man with a wave of her staff, and then with another wave of her staff made him young again. The god, Hermes, used a staff to make people fall into a deep sleep, and then use it wake them up again. Circe used a staff to turn Odysseus’s men into pigs.

  Gaius shrugged. He didn’t care how it worked, so long as it made him the wealthiest garum merchant, first in Neapolis and then in Rome.

  Gaius shook with excitement. Ever since he had returned from Ephesus to Pompeii, he had tried to find the spear, sending spies to Rome. Recently, word came to him that the Mayor of Pompeii, Rufus Trebius Valens, was bringing it to Pompeii to hide it. Gaius had killed the spy who had brought the news. That way, nobody could trace anything back to him.

  And now, another spy he had sent out said the Spear of Destiny was now in Pompeii itself. He could not do anything to Rufus, as he was the Mayor of Pompeii, and that would have too many ramifications.

  Still, Titus had newly arrived in town, and Gaius was sure that was entirely to do with the spear. It was good that Titus seemed to have his eye on Gaius’s future wife, the Lady Flavia. It couldn’t be better; that gave them people in common. Gaius always enjoyed a good relationship with Flavia’s parents. It was a shame that Titus was renting an apartment instead of a villa and thus did not have servants, because he could have easily taken one of Titus’s servants and tortured him for information.

  Gaius sighed. No matter, he could capture Titus and torture him for information. Gaius chuckled and poured garum over his tiropatinium, a set honeyed custard. Soon, I will have the Spear of Destiny, and then all of Rome will be pouring my garum over their food, he thought with delight. I will be the wealthiest garum merchant in the world.

  His eyes glittered with malevolent intent.

  11

  NAPLES

  THE PRESENT DAY

  Abigail stood outside the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli, the National Museum of Naples, marveling at the pink walls. Riley took her by her elbow and guided her inside. “We should avoid being seen in public as much as possible.” His breath brushed her ear.

  Abigail’s heart beat faster. “Do you think we’re in danger?”

  He slowed his stride. “No, not yet. I’m sure they will follow us, knowing we’ll do the hard work for them and lead them to the Spear of Destiny.”

  Abigail stopped. “So then, what are we to do?”

  Riley looked around. “We will worry about the Vortex agents later, when we’re close to finding the Spear of Destiny.”

  Abigail made to protest but then decided against it, being distracted by the magnificent architecture of the Museo Archeologico Nazionale. “I could spend all day in here,” she said wistfully.

  “I’m afraid time is not on our side. Let’s find the Pompeii display.”

  They paid eighteen euros each for admission and hurried inside.

  Abigail consulted the map she had been given. “Oh, it’s only a map of levels. The museum holds mosaics, frescoes, decorative art, and household objects from Pompeii and Herculaneum. It’s spread over several rooms. We need Level Two.”

  They maneuvered their way through the bustling crowds, past busts of Roman emperors, Greek and Roman frescos and mosaics, and Egyptian mummies. Abigail noted that not many signs were in English, but her Italian was sufficient to read the words.

  Despite Riley’s protestations, Abigail lingered at the model of the city of Pompeii. “There are no bats here,” he said, his tone low.

  Abigail nodded. Riley left the room. When she looked up, he wasn’t in sight, but she soon found him looking at the imposing statues from the Villa of the Papyri exhibition. “No, this is from Herculaneum, not Pompeii,” she said. “Let’s look at the exhibition of the Temple of Isis from Pompeii.”

  “Wasn’t Isis an Egyptian god?” Riley asked. “I thought there were Romans in Pompeii, not Egyptians?”

  Abigail nodded. “Romans worshiped all sorts of foreign gods. Up to the time of the Vesuvius eruption and for some time afterward, the Roman state didn’t have a problem with foreign gods, not unless the followers were a danger to civil order.”

  They walked past marble heads of Isis and several full statues, and examined some friezes.

  “No bats yet,” Riley said.

  Abigail stopped to admire a fresco of triremes, ancient rowing ships, on red panels taken from the portico of the Temple of Isis. There were frescoes depicting sea battles and Egyptian landscapes, dolphins and lions, as well as sphinxes and dragons. She wondered what happened to the people who maybe had been staring at the very same scenes in the hours before Vesuvius erupted.

  Riley was at once at her side. “I found a bat!” he exclaimed.

  Abigail followed him into the exhibit of Domestic Artifacts From Pompeii to a double-wick oil lamp with a bat upon the handle. “What does it mean?” Riley asked her.

  Abigail peered at the bronze for some time. “Nothing,” she said finally. “If there’s a clue, I’m afraid I can’t even begin to guess what it is.”

  “Maybe we should look for another bat.” Riley’s tone was dejected.

  Abigail was walking away when she stopped and caught his arm. “Look!” She nodded to the oil lamp. “I missed that Latin inscription behind the bat. Most of the writing is too tiny to read, but I can make out two words: regiis bibliotheca. That means ‘royal library’.

  Riley grabbed Abigail and pulled her into the Hall of the Sundial.

  Abigail sensed, but did not see, the man who had just walked into the exhibit room behind them.

  12

  NAPLES

  THE PRESENT DAY

  Riley did not speak again until they were out of the museum and halfway across the road. They walked out of the relative calm of the museum into bedlam: speeding scooters, sounds of impatient car horns, and the ever-present barking.

  “Was it a Vortex agent?” Abigail asked as they jostled their way across the road.

  “Wait until we get inside.” Riley hurried into a café directly opposite the museum. It was crowded, but Riley spotted a spare table in the far corner. They wedged their way through patrons clutching their purses to them and talking loudly. Riley sat with his back to the wall, as he usually did, on an upholstered bench seat under several blackboard menus perched on a wooden shelf, while Abigail sat on a hard wooden seat across the aluminum table from him.

  He scanned the room and then said, “It was your TA.”

  “My TA?” she repeated in shock. “Milo Knox? Is he following us?”

  Riley leaned forward. “I requested RHTF run a background check on him.”

  Abigail’s stomach churned. “It does seem like too much of a coincidence that he would show up in the museum.”

  “Did you interview him for the position?”

  “As my TA? No, he was selected for me.”

  Riley kept his eyes firmly fixed on the front door to the café. “How likely is it that he would come here of his own accord?”

  Abigail shrugged. “Well, it is the National Museum of Naples, and it does have the best display of items from Pompeii and Herculaneum. Do you think he’s working”—she hesitated and added—“do you think he’s working for Vortex?”

  Riley shrugged. “He could well be. It does seem apparent that he’s following you, although perhaps he has a crush on you.”

  “A crush? I hardly think that’s likely.”

  Riley waved one hand up and down her. “Look at you! It is highly likely.”

  Abigail felt her cheeks flush. “What are we going to do?”

  “I’ll wait to hear back about the background check, but for now, let’s wait here and see if he calls you. And even if he is following you, he wouldn’t have been fast enough to follow us here, so let’s just sit it out for a while and then we will go on to the library.”

  “Yes, the Royal Library,” Abigail said. “Is there a Royal Library in Naples?”

  Riley pulled out his phone and tapped away. Presently, he said, “There are three main libraries, the Biblioteca Nazionale Vittorio Emanuele III, The State Archives, and The Girolamini library.

  “Did you search the words, ‘Royal Library’?”

  Riley looked crestfallen. “No.”

  Abigail searched for ‘Royal library in Naples’ and immediately got a hit. “The Biblioteca Nazionale Vittorio Emanuele III, or in English, the Vittorio Emanuele II National Library, occupies the eastern wing of the eighteenth-century Palazzo Reale. King Victor Emmanuel III granted its location in the palace in 1922.”

  “So, it is a royal library then?”

  Abigail nodded. “In 1816, its name was the Royal Bourbon Library. Okay, that library is huge. Where would we even start?”

  Just then, a waiter approached the table. Abigail looked up and took in her surroundings for the first time. All manner of colorful cakes and cake stands stood not far from her on the countertop, the closest being a vivid purple cake stand on which were tall cupcakes with frosting in various shades of purple as well as bright green. Next to it, on a lime green and yellow striped cake stand was a red, yellow, pink and green cake that looked as though it had stepped straight out of Alice in Wonderland.

  Abigail turned her attention back to the waiter. Riley ordered the all-day breakfast of sausages, eggs, bacon, beans, tomatoes, and mushrooms, while Abigail ordered linguine d’o gravunaro, which the menu declared was the ancient dish of the Neapolitan tradition.

  When the waiter left, Abigail said again, “Where would we start?”

  Riley tapped the table in front of him. “You’re the classical scholar. Do you have any clues?”

  “Clock,” she said.

  Riley quirked one eyebrow. “Clock?” he repeated.

  Abigail nodded. “The riddle by Athanasius that meant time and then the bat sent us to the Royal Library. I imagine we have to find a clock.”

  They spent the next few minutes in silence searching images of the library on their phones.

  “I haven’t found a single clock,” Abigail lamented. She would have said more, but the waiter set their coffees in front of them. Abigail’s cappuccino froth had a perfect replica of a cobweb on it. “Why, that’s amazing,” she said. She looked at Riley, only to see him staring at his phone.