long seconds as they fell, Jack remembered relaxing as he knew they would simply land in the safety net.
He would never forget them hitting the net at the same instant, hand in hand, as if somehow they knew this signalled the end.
Because in the next instant, against all reason, the net snapped.
“She is perfectly preserved,” Mr Doyle broke his reverie.
They grouped around the stone sarcophagus and looked through the glass top. The lamplight illuminated a woman inside. Wearing a long black dress, her face looked as if carved from ivory. Her gleaming white hands lay across her body, resting gently upon her stomach. Long black hair cascaded across the silk pillow supporting her head. She looked like she was about to suddenly draw breath.
After his initial shock, Jack found himself staring at the woman. She was really very pretty. For a dead lady.
“I wonder who she is,” Scarlet said.
“Oh, I know who she is,” Mr Doyle said. “She is Lisa Gherardini.”
“What?” Jack asked. “Is she a murder victim or a missing person or –.”
“Merely the model for the most famous painting on Earth. You may have heard of it – the Mona Lisa.”
“But who –?” Jack stopped.
Mr Doyle held up his hand. “As to who is responsible for leaving her body here, I can only speculate at this time. As to when –.” He stood back to examine the sarcophagus. “The stonework for her tomb matches that of one of the early Roman Popes.” Mr Doyle stood back. “Yes. It is the same carving. Very ancient. Constructed centuries before her death. Her body was obviously preserved through a process unknown even today. Judging by the mould around the base of the sarcophagus, I would venture to say she has been here for centuries.
“Mr Doyle,” Scarlet said slowly. “You’re saying this is the Mona Lisa.”
“Yes. The model da Vinci used for the painting – Lisa Gherardini.”
“But what is she doing here?” Jack asked.
“Very little,” Mr Doyle replied. “She is, after all, dead.”
Jack and Scarlet looked at him in silence for a moment.
“Just a little joke.” He continued. “It would be pure speculation at this time, however there is an interesting connection we cannot ignore.” He paused. “Today we have seen both an unknown painting by Master Leonardo da Vinci and now we have found the famous model for another of his works. The link in the chain is obviously Leonardo. But why? And who is behind this would only be guesswork at this time.”
“And my father?” Scarlet asked.
“We are no closer, my dear,” Mr Doyle said. “I am sorry.”
He swept the sheet over the stone sarcophagus and they silently filed up the stairs and into the warehouse above. The warehouse interior echoing with the sound of falling rain was a welcome relief for Jack. It was unnerving being with the body of the woman downstairs. Possibly if she had been reduced to a skeleton he may not have felt so spooked, but the woman had looked ready to awake at any second.
Mr Doyle replaced the door into its position on the floor and smoothed over the muck and hay. He returned the lantern to its position on the wall.
He held up a finger. “Wait. I hear something.”
They all heard it now – the sound of an approaching steam car.
“Quickly!” Mr Doyle ordered.
They raced to the rear of the warehouse. Not a moment too soon. The huge double doors were unlocked and a steam vehicle backed into the open area as rain continued to pour steadily outside. Two men climbed from the truck. A third, speaking a foreign language, gave some orders. The other two lifted a tarpaulin from the back of the vehicle. They climbed in and lifted two large boxes from the rear.
“They look like –.” Jack began.
Mr Doyle clasped a hand over his mouth. If the men heard him, they gave no indication.
Jack looked in some horror at the two boxes lying side by side on the ground. Despite being constructed from timber, in physical dimensions they were not
He would never forget them hitting the net at the same instant, hand in hand, as if somehow they knew this signalled the end.
Because in the next instant, against all reason, the net snapped.
“She is perfectly preserved,” Mr Doyle broke his reverie.
They grouped around the stone sarcophagus and looked through the glass top. The lamplight illuminated a woman inside. Wearing a long black dress, her face looked as if carved from ivory. Her gleaming white hands lay across her body, resting gently upon her stomach. Long black hair cascaded across the silk pillow supporting her head. She looked like she was about to suddenly draw breath.
After his initial shock, Jack found himself staring at the woman. She was really very pretty. For a dead lady.
“I wonder who she is,” Scarlet said.
“Oh, I know who she is,” Mr Doyle said. “She is Lisa Gherardini.”
“What?” Jack asked. “Is she a murder victim or a missing person or –.”
“Merely the model for the most famous painting on Earth. You may have heard of it – the Mona Lisa.”
“But who –?” Jack stopped.
Mr Doyle held up his hand. “As to who is responsible for leaving her body here, I can only speculate at this time. As to when –.” He stood back to examine the sarcophagus. “The stonework for her tomb matches that of one of the early Roman Popes.” Mr Doyle stood back. “Yes. It is the same carving. Very ancient. Constructed centuries before her death. Her body was obviously preserved through a process unknown even today. Judging by the mould around the base of the sarcophagus, I would venture to say she has been here for centuries.
“Mr Doyle,” Scarlet said slowly. “You’re saying this is the Mona Lisa.”
“Yes. The model da Vinci used for the painting – Lisa Gherardini.”
“But what is she doing here?” Jack asked.
“Very little,” Mr Doyle replied. “She is, after all, dead.”
Jack and Scarlet looked at him in silence for a moment.
“Just a little joke.” He continued. “It would be pure speculation at this time, however there is an interesting connection we cannot ignore.” He paused. “Today we have seen both an unknown painting by Master Leonardo da Vinci and now we have found the famous model for another of his works. The link in the chain is obviously Leonardo. But why? And who is behind this would only be guesswork at this time.”
“And my father?” Scarlet asked.
“We are no closer, my dear,” Mr Doyle said. “I am sorry.”
He swept the sheet over the stone sarcophagus and they silently filed up the stairs and into the warehouse above. The warehouse interior echoing with the sound of falling rain was a welcome relief for Jack. It was unnerving being with the body of the woman downstairs. Possibly if she had been reduced to a skeleton he may not have felt so spooked, but the woman had looked ready to awake at any second.
Mr Doyle replaced the door into its position on the floor and smoothed over the muck and hay. He returned the lantern to its position on the wall.
He held up a finger. “Wait. I hear something.”
They all heard it now – the sound of an approaching steam car.
“Quickly!” Mr Doyle ordered.
They raced to the rear of the warehouse. Not a moment too soon. The huge double doors were unlocked and a steam vehicle backed into the open area as rain continued to pour steadily outside. Two men climbed from the truck. A third, speaking a foreign language, gave some orders. The other two lifted a tarpaulin from the back of the vehicle. They climbed in and lifted two large boxes from the rear.
“They look like –.” Jack began.
Mr Doyle clasped a hand over his mouth. If the men heard him, they gave no indication.
Jack looked in some horror at the two boxes lying side by side on the ground. Despite being constructed from timber, in physical dimensions they were not
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