THEY RETURNED TO THE BACK of the Velez chapel and once again ventured down the corridor of metal scaffolding that the construction company had placed between the cathedral and the building under restoration. They tried to avoid the numerous aluminum bars that crisscrossed diagonally, careful not to injure themselves.
On the other side, they found the stone marks they had noticed earlier, among which were the mason's initials. The three looked down, but there was nothing there, just the floor covering. However, a little further to the left, they discovered an iron grate, perhaps through which water drained during rainy weather.
They approached carefully so as not to trip over the spikes supporting the scaffolding platform. Alissa decided to crouch down to take a look, but she couldn't see more than a few inches. The light from outside, combined with the dim darkness of the shaft, made it difficult to observe what lay below ground.
— Wait... — said Gregory Evans. — I have an idea.
He borrowed his companion's camera. After receiving an explanation of how the zoom and flash worked, he knelt in front of everyone, including the passersby who watched, astonished, at such extravagant behavior.
Then he began to shoot several times, with the lens wedged between the iron bars.
— Do you have any idea where this leads? — asked Monroe, also leaning forward to peer closely through the bars.
— Maybe it's a pit — replied Geovanna. — If so, perhaps there are catacombs beneath the chapel.
— It's possible...
Umbert stood up, level with his niece. The vast majority of cathedrals have underground galleries, burial crypts where the various tombs of leading clergymen were once dug.
Gregory Evans did the same as soon as he finished his work, returning the camera to Geovanna.
— We should develop the film before returning to Santomera — he suggested. — It's the only one we have.
— Do you really believe that the diary you're looking for is down there?
Umbert's question, despite everything, was based on common sense. Because, if he were correct, the paper would have disintegrated due to humidity and parasites, after being hidden underground for almost five hundred years. It was scientifically impossible to find the text under suitable reading conditions.
— I'm not sure... — He shrugged doubtfully — but according to Iacobus's notes, the hell we must descend to is here, beneath the chains and stones that bear his name.
Geovanna seconded her partner's theory.
— Greg is right. His manuscripts must be very close to here. And what better hiding place than the superb obscurity of a temple, as he himself said?
Monroe had to admit that the stonemason's words were explicit. And that, if so, descending to hell would not be an easy task.
— Have you thought about how you're going to enter the cathedral catacombs? Perhaps by asking the deacon for permission?
The young woman seized on her uncle's irony to follow suit.
— Now that you say that...
— The first thing we should do is find out if there's a way to get into this lower part... — Greg pointed to the iron bars and added: "and perhaps the cathedral office can help us."
— I don't think anyone would give us that information without a good reason — the architect insisted.
— Not you, but... what man can resist the curiosity of a woman interested in architecture? — Geovanna arched her eyebrows, adopting a decidedly provocative pose.
Gregory, unlike Geovanna, didn't feel a twinge of jealousy. Although it was a feminine strategy, intended to obtain information surreptitiously, he didn't like Geovanna's cunning idea at all. He imagined the guide fawning over Geovanna, and it irritated him greatly.
— I don't think it could work — he finally said, although he had initially agreed.
— You never know — Monroe pointed out. — History tells us that even the wisest and most chaste man has at some point become entangled in a woman's web of conspiracy. It's a matter of male weakness to talk too much when the one listening has a beautiful face, like my niece's.
— Come on! — Geovanna exclaimed. — Have we come all this way to dwell on something so elementary now?
Feeling defeated, Gregory Evans had no choice but to capitulate. However, he still objected to the idea of seeing his girlfriend using her obvious charms in front of anyone other than him.
— Let's do something... — he suggested seriously. — We'll come back tomorrow, Sunday, when the cathedral opens... — He stared at his companion. — First, you'll speak to the sacristan, or whoever else is in charge of the Velez chapel, so they can tell us what we need to know. Then, we'll try to find a way to break through the iron bars of the sewer to be able to descend into the catacombs.
— This will be risky. If they catch us, they'll think we're art thieves.
Monroe's negative opinion didn't interfere with her niece's decision or her partner's foolish strategy. They both needed to find answers to their questions.
— Down there lies a mystery that has been hidden for centuries, a secret protected by a blood oath that, unfortunately, concerns us...
Greg expressed his fears bluntly:
— If we forget about it, perhaps in the future we'll receive an unexpected visit from a Freemason brother, willing to rip our throats open. But if we find the diary first and can decipher the enigma its pages conceal, we might have a chance to get ahead of them and discover where they're hiding. The police can do the rest.
— At least we should try — Geovanna added, countering her uncle's fears.
— Okay, you can count on my help — the architect promised. "But first, I want to see Greg's photos and make sure there's a safe way down.
Once they agreed, they went directly to an instant photo processing store, located across the Gran Via, on San Pedro Street. After waiting about twenty minutes, the clerk handed them the prints and a free film.