Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
But of course, that was all Wyatt could think about.
“Let’s get started without her. She already knows this first part, anyway.” Roman went over to the light switch and flicked it off. He pulled a remote from his pocket, and the wall was filled with an image of the science museum.
“So this is where the job started and also where it went balls-up to the sky. We fucked up thinking that the Pride wouldn’t be there. Thankfully, we still managed to make it out. Now, as for the why we were there.” He clicked a button, and the image changed, showing a brochure for the Writing Through the Ages exhibit, depicting the dozens of different and ancient texts the museum had acquired, from pavement illustrations and leading all the way up to a holographic poem written to appear as if in stars. One of the first-ever periodic tables was included, as well as one of Darwin’s original works. Wyatt had been excited about it, especially since his manager had brought him in on creating a special VR experience for the kids to try.
But what the hell did Roman want with any of that?
He clicked the button, and the image faded into that of a leather-bound book, its cover etched with a tree that had roots that wrapped around the spine and reached the back of the book. The pages were brushed with gold, and the title was scrawled in a fragile hand: The Tome of Tomorrow.
“This is what we’re after,” Roman said, eyes scanning over the assembled crew. “This book, written by an eccentric man named Remy Torrent, is said to actually contain accurate predictions of the future. The economic crash of the early 2000s is in there, along with two accurate earthquake predictions and a nearly exact dollar-value prediction of the price of Bitcoin when it had reached its peak just last year.”
Bang Bang cleared his throat and pointed toward the door. Wyatt was surprised to see a face he recognized.
“Mimic, everything good?” Roman asked as the woman—same one who had been wearing a wig at the museum—walked over and sat down on the beanbag, taking off her leather jacket and folding it in her lap.
“Not exactly. The museum is closing for a few weeks, and the exhibit is moving. It’ll either be in New York or LA, they haven’t decided yet.”
“That’s fine,” Roman said. “The book isn’t the only thing we need. There’s two more pieces of this puzzle that need to fall in place before we’re all filthy rich. One of those pieces is here.” The image on the wall shifted, showing a towering castle framed by a mountain range, a row of palm trees marking the long drive down to the spiraling iron gates, and two golden lions flanking either side of the entrance.
“This is Castillo de Dragón Gris, or Grey Drake castle, located an hour’s drive away from Madrid, and it’s where we’re heading to next.”
Wyatt’s eyebrows jerked up his forehead. Spain? He’d never even been out of the state, much less out of the country. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
“Grey Drake castle is home to the Flors, a family who’s clung to their royal heritage like a starved rat clinging to the only sliver of cheese it’s got left. The daughter, Beatriz Flor, is having a sixteenth birthday party this weekend, and it won’t only be her friends in attendance. Giovanni Gorga will also be there.” Roman clicked the remote, and a handsome man’s face filled the wall. “He’s our target. An influential real estate developer and multi-millionaire, as well as Remy’s longtime lover. Normally, he’s on his private island surrounded by a dozen different security measures, considering that he suffers from intense paranoia, which appeared to have struck him only after he became one of the world’s wealthiest men.”
“What’s he got?” Bang Bang asked, popping a bright pink bubble between his lips.
“He’s got a page from the Tome of Tomorrow. Before Remy died—an aggressive type of bone cancer—he tore out two pages of his book and gave them to the two people he cared most about in this world: his lover and his mother. The book is worthless without those two pages. There are two phrases that, when said to the page holders, should cause them to give them up.”
Mustang leaned over and grabbed Mimic’s hand, massaging it while she asked her question. “What’s on them?”
“You’ll find out when we get them in hand.”
Wyatt nearly rolled his eyes but shut them and dropped his head instead. Roman was always one to keep important details to himself, his level of trust in others as shallow as a puddle of dog piss on a New York City sidewalk.
“Mimic is supplying us with our identifications and disguises for the party,” Roman continued. “Bang Bang and Phantom, you two are going in with the caterers. Mustang, you’ll be driving the food truck. I’ll be going in with Mimic as a married couple, while Wyatt and Doc stay behind and monitor cams. There will be two clear windows of opportunity—when the performance begins and everyone’s distracted or when Giovanni steps away to take his daily call with his financial advisor, which he will no doubt try to do. It’s in those moments that we’ll have to grab the page.”