Dragon Blood

Sicily | 1943

“Who are you, really?” Rosalie asked, as she studied the priceless collection of religious relics in the Monsignor’s humble sacristy, “How did you know my father gave me this stone?”

Garret, just as curious to know the answers, placed the gold candlestick back down onto the soft, white cloth, and turned to face the elderly priest who was slowly descending into a cushy, burgundy leather chair. The only chair in the entire room.

Aida - slightly more curious, and highly agitated to discover that Clement was not waiting for them inside of the sacristy - blurted out her thoughts and questions before Monsignor Bova could answer Rosalie’s.

“Where is Clement? If you claim to know him, where is he? We were supposed to rendezvous with him here an hour ago.”

The elderly priest fought against the hunched muscled in his neck, and raised his head as high as he could to meet Rosalie’s gaze, “I am one of three brothers,” he said, smiling, “I am also the eldest, by nine years. Giuseppe, whom you both know from the music shop, is the middle child and the most musically inclined, and Alissandru was the youngest. Like me, Alissandru was guided by the voice of God, and became a priest. Although he always had an itch for travel, so after a long pilgrimage to Rome, he continued his religious experience throughout Eastern Europe, Northern Africa, and Greece…finally settling in Malta. I do miss them both dearly.”

Unsure if he was aware that Giuseppe had been murdered by Ulrich, she navigated those waters carefully. Aida however did not. Once she heard the Monsignor mention Malta, her head began spiraling down a dark rabbit hole.

Was it all just a coincidence? Or was there something much larger at play? Either way, they were all running out of time.

“Your brother, Alissandru,” Aida began while her heart hammered behind her sternum, “You said he settled in Malta?”

“Yes,” the elderly priest replied, “He is the Monsignor of San’t Sonia, in Mellieħa.”

Aida was blown back onto her heels, as the weight of the old man’s words and the image of the dead priest who saved her life in Malta hit her head on. Her struggle to maintain a stoic facial expression was enough for the Monsignor to make the connection.

“You knew him?” He asked, already knowing the answer to his question.

“Yes,” Aida said, but with conviction and regret, “He was a great, and brave man.”

“Was?” The Monsignor asked, with soft concern.

Aida couldn’t stop herself from replaying the moment when the priest in Malta killed a man to save her life, which made it difficult to respond to the elderly man’s lingering question. Sensing what Aida was about to say, Rosalie used the moment to regain control of the conversation.

“When was the last time you saw your brothers?”

The Monsignor leaned back into his chair, trying to remember, “I have not seen Alissandru in seven years. I am afraid my traveling days are behind me. We do however stay in touch…although…I have not received any correspondence from him so far this year.”

Rosalie looked at her mother, whose face was contorted with distress, and continued to control the conversation. This man was in his latter years of life, and she did not want to be the one to inform him that his two brothers were both dead.

“What about Giuseppe? When was the last time the two of you were together?”

The Monsignor leaned forward into his grand desk that was elegantly decorated to reflect the high office he proudly held, and opened one of the drawers. Pulling out a piece of parchment, he pushed up his glasses with his right index finger, studying the date on the hand-written message.

“November 29th. Last year. He came to me in great distress,” He said, handing Rosalie the parchment.

“What is this?” She asked.

“It’s the reason you are here.”

Rosalie quickly began reading the words on the page, as did Garret who was eagerly hanging over her shoulder. The list of oddly named gems and stones didn’t make any sense to her, but one phrase stuck out to her more than the others did. It was also the only phrase written plainly, rather than in a scientific classification.

Dragon Blood.

“May I? Garret asked, reaching for the piece of paper.

Rosalie happily gave it to him, then focused her attention back on the Monsignor, who was now rummaging through a second desk drawer. A larger drawer.

“I don’t understand,” Rosalie said, “What is this a list of?”

Garret shifted back, and shared the list with Aida. It didn’t make much sense to her either, but Garret knew what he was looking at. It was a detailed inventory of some of the world’s most precious known minerals, as well as the most dangerous. He wasn’t familiar with all of the scientific terms written down, but he could identify gold, diamond, copper, nickel, opal, rhodium, ruby and garnet. On the negative side, he was also able to identify asbestos, arsenic, and uranium. One phrase in particular stood out, and sent a hot shiver up and down his spine. Dragon Blood. The phrase was oddly familiar, but he had no idea what that meant, and his gut didn’t tell him it was anything good.

“Last year, beneath the igneous volcanic rocks of Mount Etna, a team of Sicilian scientists uncovered an unexplored cave system. Within those underground tunnels, they accidentally drilled their way into a massive lava cavern,” The Monsignor said, as he placed a impressive, geographical map of Mount Etna, and the surrounding landscape down onto the white and red cloth draped across the desk, “What they found inside of that cavern, is written down on that sheet of paper.”

“That’s impossible,” Garret said. No mine on the planet could possibly be that abundantly fruitful and tremendously virulent.”

“What are you talking about?” Rosalie asked, “What does that list mean?”

“This piece of paper lists some of the world’s most precious, and deadliest known minerals. If what the Monsignor is saying is true, then the mines beneath Mount Etna are the most valuable, and the most deadly mines on the entire planet.”

“Is this a confirmed list?” Aida blurted out from the far corner of the room.

“It is,” The Monsignor said, “Giuseppe…is not just a shop owner. He’s a digger. After he returned home from the first war, he had an obsessive interest in mining the earth. He never told me what happened to him, nor what he found in France, but whatever it was changed him, and couldn’t help himself from scouring Sicily for new dig sites. That team I mentioned, the one that accidentally drilled their way into the cavern beneath Mount Etna. Guiseppe was the team leader.”

“Have they begun mining the cavern?”Garret asked.

“Yes. However, the dig needed to be suspended because of the accident,” The Monsignor said.

“Accident? What accident?” Rosalie asked.

“On November 29th, Giuseppe visited me here at the church. He was accompanied by a younger man with broad shoulders. He introduced him as Clement. Giuseppe then told me of a deadly accident that occurred the previous week, during their extraction of a slab of diamonds. One of the handheld drills broke through the cavern wall, and a deep, pulsating red aura escaped through the drill hole, enveloping the miners in poisonous gas. Once the miners were able to finally exit the cave, their skin was stained blood red, and their nervous systems began to fail. Within a couple of hours, every miner who was exposed to the red dust experienced an extremely painful, and elaborate death.”

“Dragon Blood,” Garret said, softly.

“Cinnabar,” The Monsignor responded, providing him with the proper name.

“What is Cinnabar?” Rosalie asked.

“Mercury Sulfide. It’s red in nature, and extremely toxic to humans,” Garret responded.

“Why did Clement come here?” Aida asked.

“Giuseppe knew that his discovery of the cavern was impossible to keep quiet. A few months after they began their initial extraction of gold and nickel, word reached the Germans. Fortunately, the exact location of the dig site remained a mystery to the Germans. Giuseppe’s contacts he made during the war informed him of Hitler’s obsessiveness, and prioritized scientific expeditions to discover the location of the natural cache by any means necessary. With limited friends he could trust, and a squadron of Nazi and Fascist, Mussolini supporting hunters searching for him, Giuseppe enlisted your Clement to aid him in smuggling the location, as well as the list of minerals, to a highly resourceful team of international scientists operating out of Malta. Giuseppe knew his time was limited, but he could not allow himself to die without sharing his secret with those who would ensure the survival, protection and anonymity of the cavern.”

Rosalie turned to face her mother, “You knew about all of this?”

“I know of the dangers surrounding these minerals. I had no idea that any such dig site actually existed. Your father asked me to go with him to Malta to help him broker a deal with a group of geologists. All he said was we needed to attend a meeting that would prevent Mussolini and Hitler from dominating Europe. He asked me to trust him. I left on faith. Faith that he was right, and hope that whatever we were going to do would protect our family. We were kidnapped before that meeting ever took place.”

A nearby explosion rattled the innards of the church, causing anything not fastened down on the Monsignor’s desk to rattle and shift.

The door to the sacristy kicked open, and Amastan stood in the threshold, his MP40 gripped in both hands.

“Clement?” Aida asked.

“No, Amastan said, “Someone else.”

We need to leave,” Aida said, grabbing Rosalie by the upper bicep.

Rosalie shrugged her arm hard, knocking her mother’s grip loose, “No. Not yet. She turned back to face The Monsignor, “You said you have been waiting for me. What did you mean?”

“Your father, Rosalie,” he said, “He instructed me that he and your mother would be leaving for Malta, and if they were to be kidnapped, or worse, that he would mail you and your brother a clue that would lead you here. To me.”

Aida interjected their conversation with furry as bullets began firing outside of the church, “Rosalie! We are leaving.”

“Tell me, Monsignor. Why am I here?”

The elderly man reached into his desk drawer one last time, using an intricate brass key from around his neck to unlock it. He removed an odd, very old looking puzzle box with a deep set crater in its face. He handed it to Rosalie, and smiled.

The gunshots grew louder, and more clear.

Amastan reentered the sacristy, “They’re inside.”