Under the watchful eye of Ajay, Sam and Remi spent a night in the hospital. Remi’s X-rays revealed two bruised ribs and a sprained ankle. For their bumps and bruises Sam and Remi got prescription painkillers. The scratches on their faces, though ugly, were superficial and would eventually fade.
Five days after crash-landing in their balloon, they were on a plane headed home.
Now Selma gave them the edited version, “Well, first of all, Jack has confirmed your hunch, Mrs. Fargo. The symbols carved into the bamboo were identical to those on the lid of the Theurang chest. He’s as dumbfounded by it as you are. Whenever you’re ready to talk, call him.
“As for the rest of the markings, you were right again: it’s Italian. According to the author, a man named”-Selma scanned the print-out-“Francesco Lana de Terzi-”
“I know that name,” Sam said. Since returning home, he had immersed himself in the history of dirigibles.
Remi said, “Tell us.”
“De Terzi is widely considered the Father of Aeronautics. He was a Jesuit, and professor of physics and mathematics, in Brescia-northern Italy. In 1670 he published a book called Prodomo. For its time, it was groundbreaking, the first solid analysis of the math behind air travel. He laid the groundwork for everyone that followed him, starting with the Montgolfier brothers in 1783.”
“Oh, them,” Remi replied.
“The first successful balloon flight,” Sam explained. “De Terzi was an absolute genius. He paved the way for things like the sewing machine, a reading device for the blind, the first primitive form of Braille . . .”
“But no airship,” Selma said.
“His primary concept was something he called a Vacuum Ship-essentially, the same as the multiple balloon dirigible we found, but in place of fabric spheres you would have copper ones that had been evacuated of air. In the mid sixteen hundreds, the inventor Robert Boyle created a pump-a ‘pneumatic engine,’ as he called it-that could completely evacuate the air from a vessel. With it, he proved that air has weight. De Terzi theorized that once the ship’s copper spheres were evacuated, the ship would be lighter than the air around it, causing it to rise. I won’t bore you with the physics, but the concept has too many hurdles to be workable.”
“So the Vacuum Ship was never built,” said Selma.
“Not that we know of. In the late nineteenth century a man named Arthur De Bausset tried to get funding for what he called a vacuum-tube airship, but nothing came of it. As for De Terzi, according to history he kept working on his theory until he died in 1686.”
“Where?”
Sam smiled. “In Brescia.”
“After gallivanting around the Himalayas,” Remi added. “Go on, Selma.”
“According to the bamboo, De Terzi and his Chinese crew-he doesn’t say how many-crash-landed during a test flight of an airship he was designing for the Kangxi Emperor. The Emperor had named the airship the Great Dragon. Only De Terzi and two others survived the crash. He was the only one uninjured.”
“The two mummies we found,” Remi said.
“I checked the dates for the Kangxi Emperor,” said Selma. “He ruled from 1661 to 1722.”
“The time line fits,” said Sam.
“Now, here’s the good part: De Terzi states that while foraging for food he found a”-Selma read the printout-“‘mysterious vessel of a design he had never seen, engraved with symbols both similar and dissimilar to those used by my benefactor.’”
Sam and Remi exchanged smiles.
Selma continued: “In the final part of the engraving, De Terzi wrote that he had decided to leave his crewmates and head north, back toward the airship’s launch base, something he referred to as Shekar Gompa.”
Sam said, “Did you check-”
“I did. Shekar Gompa is only ruins now, but it’s located about forty miles northeast of where you found the ship, in Tibet.”
“Go on.”
“If De Terzi made it back to Shekar Gompa, he himself would tell the tale of the journey. If he failed, his body would never be found. The bamboo was to be his testament.”
“And the mysterious vessel?” said Sam.
“I left the best for last,” Selma replied. “De Terzi claimed he was going to take the vessel with him as, and I quote, ‘ransom to free my brother Giuseppe, held hostage by the Kangxi Emperor to ensure my return with the Great Dragon.’”
“He took it with him,” Sam murmured. “He took the Theurang into Tibet.”
Remi said, “I have so many questions, I don’t know where to start. First, how much history do we have on De Terzi?”
“There’s very little out there. At least not that I could find,” Selma replied. “According to every source, De Terzi spent his life in Italy. He died there and is buried there. As Sam said, he spent his final years working on his Vacuum Ship.”
“Both versions of his life can’t be true,” Sam said. “Either he never left Brescia and the bamboo is a hoax or he spent time in China working for the Kangxi Emperor.”
“And perhaps died there,” Remi added.
Sam saw the mischievous smile on Selma’s face. He said, “Okay, out with it.”
“There’s nothing online about De Terzi, but there is a professor at University of Brescia who teaches a class in late Renaissance-era Italian inventors. According to their online catalog, De Terzi figures prominently in the curriculum.”
Remi said, “You really enjoy doing that, don’t you?”
“Not in the slightest,” Selma replied solemnly. “Just say the word, and I’ll have you in Italy by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Just say the word, and we’ll get an Internet appointment for tomorrow.”
GOLDFISH POINT, LA JOLLA
CALIFORNIA
The next day, late afternoon Italian time, on iChat, Sam and Remi introduced themselves and explained, ambiguously, the gist of their interest in Francesco Lana de Terzi to the course’s instructor, Professor Carlotta Moretti. Moretti, a mid-thirties brunette with owlish glasses, smiled at them from the computer screen.
“So nice to meet you both,” she said in lightly accented English.
“I am something of a fan, you know.”
“Of ours?” Remi replied.
“Si, si. I read about you in the Smithsonian magazine. The Napoleon’s lost cellar, and the cave in the mountains, the, uh . . .”
“Grand Saint Bernard,” Sam offered.
“Yes, that is it. Please excuse my prying, but I must ask: are you both well? Your faces?”
“A hiking mishap,” Sam replied. “We’re on the mend.”
“Oh, good. Well, I was fascinated, and then of course happy when you called. Surprised too. Tell me your interest in Francesco De Terzi and I will try to be of help to you.”
“His name came up during a project,” Remi said. “We’ve been able to find surprisingly little published about him. We were told you’re something of an expert.”
Moretti wagged her hand. “Expert, I do not know. I teach about De Terzi, and have had a curiosity about him since I was a little girl.”
“We’re primarily interested in the latter part of his life; say, the last ten years. First, can you confirm that he had a brother?”
“Oh, yes. Giuseppe Lana de Terzi.”
“And is it true Francesco never left Brescia?”
“Oh, no, that is untrue. De Terzi traveled often to Milan, to Genoa, to other places too.”
“How about out of Italy? Overseas, perhaps?”
“It is possible, though I could not say where exactly. Based on some accounts, mostly secondhand accounts of stories De Terzi was said to have told, he traveled distantly between the years 1675 and 1679. Though no historian I know of will confirm that.”
“Do these stories talk about where he might have been?”
“Somewhere in the Far East,” replied Moretti. “Asia, is one speculation.”
“Why would he have gone there?”
The professor hesitated. “You must understand, this may all be fantasy. There is so little documentation to support any of this.”