They waited for the noon service to end before entering the cathedral. Alissa, dressed discreetly but elegantly, separated from the men to head to the diocese office, located on the left side of the transverse nave, next to the door labeled "Bishop." Standing behind a wooden counter, she saw a man studying a stack of papers with some interest. Behind him, his coworker was busy organizing several files in front of a worn green filing cabinet. She approached.
— Good morning... — he smiled shyly. — I'd like to check the prices for scheduled visits.
Ignoring her, the man handed her an informational pamphlet for her to look up. Regretting what he had just done, however, he raised his head to look at the young woman's face. It was attractive, much more so than his work. He decided to take a break and postpone the soporific inventory for another time.
— How many people would there be, and for what day? — he asked. I wanted to help her by getting personally involved.
— Actually, only me — Geovanna replied. — As for the date... it could be right now. — She smiled again. — Actually, I need to report on the catacombs of the Spanish cathedrals.
— I'm coming from Madrid, intending to expand my knowledge. I hope you can help me... — She bit her lower lip anxiously, yet sensually. "Of course, I'm willing to pay, whatever it is.
— Don't worry, I'll take care of everything myself. I have half an hour before we close. And now, if you'll excuse me, wait until I'll join you in a moment.
The clerk adopted the pose of an important man, telling his companion, in an authoritative voice, what to do with the inventory before leaving the office. Then, he went to meet the young woman, carrying a black folder under his arm. Alissa looked away, looking for Gregory. She saw that she was with her uncle, strolling around the main altar, to see if she could find a direct access door to the catacombs.
— Is this your first time in Murcia?
The employee's question caught her off guard.
— What...? — she replied distractedly, but quickly recovered. — Ah, yes! I haven't had the pleasure of visiting the region until now. It's a shame, really. Murcia is a precious city.
— My name is Andrés Orengo, and I'm the Canon Archivist of the Holy Cathedral Church of Murcia — he introduced himself, hoping to impress her with his position.
— I'm Laura — he lied matter-of-factly — and I work as a researcher for Tele Madrid.
And he extended his hand.
— Nice to meet you — he said, greeting her warmly.
Then he gestured to a wooden bench against the wall of the office. They walked over, sitting next to each other.
— Let's see... — the canon began — ...what exactly is the concept you want to convey?
— The catacombs as an allegory of hell — Geovanna replied, improvising. — It's about delving deeper into the pagan idea that both life and death are related to sin, represented, in this case, by the cold darkness of the grave.
The man tried to imagine what it was about, although his attention was certainly still fixed on Alissa's charms. The only thing that mattered to him, judging by his furtive glances, were the lines that hinted at her blouse and tight pants.
— Very interesting... — he said finally. — I'm sure it will be very instructive. Personally, I believe that anything that benefits culture nourishes our intellectual level. It's a shame there's no longer any funding for documentaries of this kind, which I'm passionate about.
He smiled with exaggerated kindness. Alissa was already starting to feel disgusted by such pedantry.
— So... would you mind showing me the catacombs?
— She was direct, without preamble, she had to push the situation to its limit.
— There are no catacombs here, miss — he confessed, after all, with disappointment. — What exists is an ossuary whose doors were closed a few centuries ago. If you'd like, I can look up information in the archives.
— There's no underground space beneath the cathedral? — she persisted again.
— None, that I know of.
— So... what's under the iron bars, in the ground surrounding the Velez chapel?
Andrés tried to get his bearings, pondering the question for a moment.
— Honestly, I don't know... — he replied, embarrassed. — Maybe it's part of the city's sewers. I'll have to find out, if only to be able to answer satisfactorily the next time someone asks me that question." — Is there nothing mentioned about this in the archives?
— We only know that two old chapels were demolished to build the Vélez chapel. If there were ever catacombs down there, they were probably condemned after the construction work. If so, it must have been the mausoleum of some nobleman of the time.
— I see... I suppose you know every corner of the cathedral, and what would you say if you knew of some door you hadn't imagined leading to? Wherever you can drive...—she used her last bullet.
— I'm sorry to have wasted your time. I believe this is all the information I can get from my trip.
Alissa stood up. The clerk had no choice but to follow suit.
— I'm truly sorry! However, it was a pleasure to help in any way I could. Oh... and as for the fee, forget it. In the end, it cost me no effort!
— Thank you so much for everything. — She squeezed his hand, which was now bathed in sweat. She suppressed her disgust with a grimace he couldn't interpret.
— Come back whenever you want... Perhaps next time I'll be better informed.
Less proud than before, the archivist returned to his monotonous work, plunging into a sea of unclassified papers. Alissa had to acknowledge her failure. She had to start over.
— What did you discover?
The first to approach her was her uncle Umbert, driven by curiosity. Gregory continued to admire the neo-Gothic altarpiece and the splendid grate by Anton de Viveros, oblivious to his companion's presence.
— There are no catacombs or underground passages, only an ossuary that has been closed for centuries — she replied, with a look of failure.
— He told me, however, that two chapels were demolished before the annex was built. It's possible that the Vélez chapel was built over the crypt of some noble patron, perhaps condemned by the masons themselves.
Gregory stopped what he was doing and joined them, just in time to hear those last words.
— But... why precisely there?" the architect asked.
— Perhaps so it would be preserved over the years... — Alissa stated. She arched an eyebrow significantly.
Monroe considered her suspicions again, wondering what they might find after five centuries had passed.
— Have you considered, even for a moment, the condition that paper will be in after spending some five hundred years in a crypt? — he said, staring at them both, hoping they would understand what he had just said.
— It depends on the temperature the document was exposed to and the humidity of the environment... — Gregory Evans conjectured. As a bibliophile, he was well acquainted with the secrets of preserving ancient books.
— If it was stored in a closed place, say... a wooden or metal box, perhaps the effects of the corrosive agents that usually act on paper have been delayed.
— We won't know until we can go down and check. — Umbert's words were nothing short of an encouragement to the adventure.
— Can we do it? — Geovanna's question was directed at her companion. She wanted to be sure they would see it through to the end, without considering the consequences of their actions.
— In theory, yes — he replied quietly. — We just have to put our intentions into practice.
— Do you have a plan?
— We should leave... — Geovanna suggested to them. — The first thing to do is to study the sewer access again, if that's what it is, and see how we can get in there without being discovered.
Her uncle agreed, even though he knew they were going to do something crazy.
Minutes later, they were once again observing the stones signed with the stonemason's initials. A few meters away, on the left side, they made out the abyss that plunged into the depths of its own mystery, guarded by iron bars. They bent down to peer through the grate.
— Did you bring the photographs? — Geovanna asked.
Gregory took a yellow envelope from his coat pocket, where he kept the snapshots. He handed them to his companion, eager to take a look at them. She could clearly see the buttresses blending into the shadows of the abyss, as well as the stonemason's initials carved into the highest stones.
— It's quite clear that Iacobus is showing us the way. His initials are on the stone.
Geovanna pointed to the markings, visible in the photo.
Gregory looked around. They caught the attention of anyone passing by Apostles' Square. People were surprised to see three crouched creatures peering through the cracks in a sewer next to the cathedral.
— We'd better leave — Gregory stood up — or they'll think we're crazy.
Geovanna nodded, agreeing with him. She and her uncle composed themselves, trying to hide the anxiety that gripped them.
— Have you thought about how we'll find a way down?
— The young woman asked.
— The only obstacle that poses a problem is the iron fence — Monroe replied. — Once that's overcome, it will be easy to get down with ropes and carabiners. We won't have much time,
because there are always people who might discover us and call the police. Remember, we're in the middle of the city.
— We'd better go back to your house. — We need to develop a strategy that will allow us to get in and out quickly... and we need to do it now! — Geovanna proposed. Then she put on her sunglasses and gave a warm, friendly smile. She looked at her companion and said, — This afternoon you have to take me to the airport.
Greg, and I'd like to get a feel for what we're going to do before returning to Madrid.
— I agree — he commented. — After lunch, we'll make a list of the materials we'll need. Tomorrow, while you go to the auction, we'll take care of those supplies. If you come back Tuesday, we'll be ready to go that same night.
Umbert Monroe also agreed, which led them back, braving the various scaffolding protecting the construction site, until they left that maze of metal pipes behind. When they finally reached Cardinal Belluga Square, Gregory's cell phone began to vibrate in the wallet attached to his belt. He found it very strange that they were calling him, as very few people knew his phone number. On the display, he recognized the digits and the extension. They belonged to Geovanna's office. The call was from the Hiperión auction house.
Wasting no time, he pressed the green button. Then he heard Nicolas Colmenares' voice, and that surprised him even more. She listened to what he had to say without saying anything other than monosyllables. Seconds later, she hung up. Her face paled, and her gaze was lost in the crowd walking beneath the flock of doves.
— Who was it? What did she say to you? — Geovanna asked, suspecting a tragedy was brewing.
— It was Colmenares," he replied hoarsely, after a few seconds of hesitation. "Geovanna is dead."
— Good heavens, this is horrible!" the young woman exclaimed, seeking refuge in her uncle's arms.
— They murdered her the same way they murdered Jorge — Gregory continued, still stunned by the news.
— It was The Widow's Sons. And, I believe, now it's my turn...