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Take a look - its the coolest new gadget we have ever reviewed.

All the cool new gadgets CES 2017

Our picks of the hottest, coolest and most sizzling tech on show in las vegas.

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In that direction. Unfortunately, you cannot see it from my palazzo. Ezio squinted into the dark. What about from the tower of that church She looked at him. Santo Stefanos Yes. But its a ruin. The stairs to the tower have collapsed. Ezio braced himself. He needed to get to his meeting place as safely and as quickly as possible. He did not want to be delayed by the beggars, tarts and muggers who infested the streets by day and night. That shouldnt be a problem, he told the woman. Vi ringrazio di tutto quello che avete fatto per me, buona Contessa. Addio. You are more than welcome, she replied with a wry smile. But are you sure youre fit enough to go so soon I think you should see a doctor. Id recommend one, but I cant afford them any more. I have cleaned and dressed your wound, but I am no expert. The Templars t wait and nor can I, he replied. Thank you again, and goodbye. Go with God. He leapt from the balcony down to the street, cing at the impact, and darted across the square, which was dominated by the disintegrating palace, in the direction of the church. Twice he lost sight of the tower and had to double back. Three times he was accosted by leprous beggars and once confronted by a wolf, which slunk off down an alley with what may have been a dead between its jaws. At last he was in the open space before the church. It was boarded up, and the limestone saints that adorned its portal were deformed by neglect. He didnt know whether he could trust the rotten stonework, but there was nothing for it; he had to climb. He managed it, though he lost his footing on several occasions and once his feet fell free over an embrasure that collapsed beneath them, leaving him hanging by the tips of his fingers. He was still a strong man, despite his injuries, and he managed to haul himself up and out of danger until at last he was on top of the tower that was perched on its lead roof. The dome of the Mausoleum glinted dully in the moonlight several blocks away. Hed go there now and wait for Machiavelli to arrive. He adjusted his Hidden Blade, sword and dagger, and was about to make a leap of faith down to a haywain parked in the square below when his wound caused him to double up in pain. The Contessa dressed my shoulder well, but she was right, I must see a doctor, he said to himself. Painfully, he clambered down the tower to the street. He had no idea where to find a medico, so he made his way to an inn, where he obtained directions in exchange for a couple of ducats, which also bought him a beaker of filthy Sanguineus, which assuaged his pain somewhat. It was late by the time he reached the doctors surgery. He had to knock several times, and hard, before there was a muffled response from within, then the door opened a crack to reveal a fat, bearded man of about sixty, wearing thick eyeglasses. He looked the worse for wear Ezio could smell drink on his breath and one of his eyes seemed larger than the other. What do you want said the man. Are you Dottore Antonio And if I am I need your help. Its late, said the doctor, but his gaze had wandered to the wound on Ezios shoulder, and his eyes became cautiously more sympathetic. Itll cost extra. I am not in a position to argue. Good. Come in. The doctor unchained his door and stood aside. Ezio staggered gratefully into a hallway whose beams were hung with a collection of copper pots and glass phials, dried bats and lizards, mice and snakes. The doctor ushered him through to an inner room containing a huge desk, untidily covered with papers, a narrow bed in one corner, a cupboard whose open doors revealed more phials, and a leather case, also open, containing a selection of scalpels and miniature saws. The doctor followed Ezios eyes and barked out a short laugh. We medici are just jumpedup mechanics, he said. Lie down on the bed and Ill have a look. Before you do, its three ducats in advance. Ezio handed over the . The doctor undressed the wound and pushed and shoved until Ezio virtually passed out with the pain. Hold still! the doctor grumbled. He poked around some more, poured some stinging liquid from a flask over the wound, dabbed at it with a cotton wad, produced some clean bandages and bound it firmly once more. Someone your age cannot recover from a wound like this with medicine. The doctor rummaged about in his cupboard and produced a phial of treaclylooking stuff. But heres something to dull the pain. Dont drink it all at once. Its another three ducats, by the way. And dont worry, youll heal over time. Grazie, dottore. Four out of five doctors would have suggested leeches, but they havent proven effective against this sort of wound. What is it If they werent so rare, Id say it was from a gunshot. Come back if you need to. Or I can recommend several good colleagues around the city. Do they cost as much as you do Doctor Antonio sneered. My good sir, youve got off lightly. Ezio stomped out into the street. A light rain had begun to fall and the streets were already turning muddy. “Someone your age,� grumbled Ezio. Che sobbalzo! He made his way back to the inn as hed noticed they had rooms for rent. Hed stay there, eat something, and make his way to the Mausoleum in the morning. Then hed just have to wait for his fellow Assassin to show up. Machiavelli might at least have left some kind of rendezvous time with the Contessa. Ezio was aware of Machiavellis passion for security, though. Hed no doubt turn up at the appointed spot every day at regular intervals. Ezio shouldnt have too long to wait. Ezio picked his way through the wretched streets and alleys, darting back into the darkness of doorways whenever a Borgia patrol easily recognized by their mulberry and yellow livery passed by. It was midnight by the time he reached the inn again. He took a swig from the phial of dark liquid it was good and hammered on the inn door with the pommel of his sword. 14 The follog day Ezio left the inn early. His wound felt stiff, but the pain was duller and he was better able to use his arm now. Before leaving he practised a few strokes with the Hidden Blade and found he could use it without difficulty, as well as more conventional swordanddagger work. It was just as well he hadnt been shot in the shoulder of his swordarm. Not being sure whether the Borgia and their Templar associates knew that he had escaped the battle of Monteriggioni with his life, and noting the high number of soldiers armed with guns and dressed in the dark mulberry red and yellow livery of the Borgia, he took a roundabout route to the Mausoleum of Augustus, and the sun was high by the time he reached it. There were fewer people about, and after having scouted round, assuring himself that no guards were watching the place, Ezio cautiously approached the building, slipping through a ruined doorway into the gloomy interior. As his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness, he made out a figure dressed in black, leaning against a stone outcrop and still as a statue. He glanced to each side to ascertain that there was somewhere to duck behind before it noticed him, but apart from tussocks of grass among the fallen stones of the ancient Roman ruin, there was nothing. He decided on the next best thing and swiftly but silently started to move towards the deeper darkness of the Mausoleums walls. He was too late. Whoever it was had seen him, probably as soon as hed entered, framed by the light from the doorway, and moved towards him. As it approached, he recognized the blacksuited figure of Machiavelli, who placed a finger on his lips as he came closer. Beckoning him discreetly to follow, Machiavelli made his way into a deeper, darker area of the ancient Roman Emperors tomb, built almost one and half millennia earlier. At last he stopped and turned. Shh, he said and, waiting, listened keenly.

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