Название: Bestselling Conspiracy Thriller Trilogy: Sanctus, The Key, The Tower
Автор: Simon Toyne
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Приключения: прочее
isbn: 9780007557547
isbn:
59
Liv spent the next few minutes looking for words in the jumble of letters and writing them down in a list. She got words like SALT, LAST, TASK, MASK – nothing earth-shattering, nothing like ‘GRAIL’ or ‘CROSS’ or any of the other things the Sacrament was rumoured to be; certainly nothing worth dying for.
She tried making a single word from the capitalized letters – MAT – and studied what was left – s a l a k. She looked up at Arkadian. ‘What language do they speak in the Citadel?’
He shrugged. ‘Greek, Latin, Aramaic, English, Hebrew – all the modern languages and lots of the dead ones. There’s supposed to be a massive library in there, full of ancient texts. If your brother had anything to do with that side of things, I suppose the message could be written in any language.’
‘Great.’
‘But I don’t think he’d do that. Why would he send you a message you wouldn’t understand?’
Liv let out a long breath and picked up the photograph of her brother’s body. Her eyes traced the neat lines encircling his shoulders, upper thighs and neck, the T-shaped cross burned deep into the flesh of his left shoulder.
‘Maybe there’s something in these scars,’ she said. ‘Like a map, maybe.’
‘I agree they’re significant, but I think these symbols are more important. He took pains to scratch them on to five tiny seeds, then swallowed them, along with your phone number, and jumped into our jurisdiction so that they would be found during a post-mortem.’
Liv turned her attention back to the newspaper, the picture of Samuel now surrounded by the letters he’d taken such trouble to hide.
‘I want to see him,’ she said.
‘I don’t think that’s wise,’ Arkadian said softly. ‘Your brother fell from a very great height. His injuries were extensive, and we’ve conducted a thorough post-mortem. It would be better for you to wait.’
‘Wait until what? Until he’s been tidied up?’
‘Miss Adamsen, I don’t think you realize what happens to a body during a post-mortem.’
Liv took a deep breath and fixed him with her bright green eyes. ‘After a thorough external examination the coroner makes a Y-shaped incision on the torso, cracks the sternum and removes the heart, the lungs and the liver for further examination. The top of the skull is then detached with a saw and the face is peeled forward to gain access to the brain, which is also removed for examination. Ever been to New Jersey, Inspector?’
Arkadian blinked. ‘No,’ he replied.
‘Last year in Newark we had one hundred and seven homicides – more than two a week. In the last four years I’ve written stories on every aspect of crime, and researched every element of police procedure, including autopsies. I have personally attended more post-mortems than most rookie cops. So I know it’s not going to be pretty, and I know it’s my brother, but I also know I haven’t flown all this way on a maxed-out credit card – which has since been stolen, by the way – just to look at a bunch of photographs. So please,’ she said, turning the photo round and sliding it back across the table, ‘take me to see my brother.’
Arkadian’s eyes flicked between Liv’s face and the image in the photograph. They had the same colouring, the same high cheekbones and widely set eyes. Samuel’s eyes were shut but he knew they were the same intense green.
The buzz of his phone cut through the silence.
‘’Scuse me,’ he said, standing up and walking to the far side of the room.
‘You’re not going to believe this,’ an excitable voice babbled in his ear the moment he pressed the answer button. ‘Just when you think a case cannot get any stranger,’ Reis said, ‘the lab results come back!’
‘What you got?’
‘The monk’s cells; they’re –’
A high-pitched siren caused Arkadian to jerk the phone away from his head.
‘WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?’ he shouted, holding it as close as he could without bursting an eardrum.
‘FIRE ALARM!’ Reis shouted back through the banshee wail. ‘I THINK WE’RE BEING EVACUATED. NOT SURE IF IT’S A DRILL. I’LL CALL YOU WHEN IT’S OVER.’
Arkadian glanced at Liv. Locked eyes. Made a decision.
‘DON’T WORRY,’ he yelled into the phone, ‘I’LL COME TO YOU.’ He smiled and added, as much for Liv’s benefit as for Reis’s, ‘AND I’LL BE BRINGING A VISITOR.’
60
The deafening noise of the propellers increased as a couple of thousand horse power fed into the Double Wasp engine on the right wing, slewing it round until the rear cargo hatch came to rest in line with the warehouse door.
Kathryn watched men in red overalls scamper forward and jam wooden chocks beneath the oversized wheels of the C-123 light cargo plane which they’d picked up for the princely sum of one dollar from the Brazilian Air Force on the understanding that the charity had to make it airworthy and ship it off the military airbase within thirty days or it would be used for target practice. It had been in such a bad state they only just made it, but it had clocked up over twenty thousand flying hours since.
The pitch of the engines fell and the watery mist whipped up by them began to clear as the rear hatch lowered. Kathryn marched across the wet tarmac, followed by Becky the intern and a customs officer who held his cap in place with one hand and a clipboard in the other. Kathryn had brought Becky so she could check everything in the tightly packed cargo hold against the manifest, and so that her eager prettiness would distract the customs officer and the rest of the ground crew while the most precious and unregistered part of the load was discreetly removed.
Kathryn had seen her father many times over the past few years but never in Ruin. It was too dangerous, even after all this time. Instead she always flew to him in Rio or they met somewhere else to spend a bit of time together, discuss the charity’s latest projects, fulminate on whatever injustices were currently being visited upon the planet, and drink good whisky.
She reached the top of the ramp and peered at the large corporate logo stencilled on the thin aluminium skin of the first master pallet. The majority of this particular shipment was high-nitrate fertilizer, a gift from a large petrochemical company to salve its conscience for all the bad it did to the world. Kathryn was always conflicted by accepting such donations, but figured the people who were ultimately going to benefit from them didn’t care about the moral high ground; the only ground that mattered to them was the sort they could grow food on.
In a couple of days this fertilizer would be mingling with the sterile dust surrounding a village in the Sudan – if the Sudanese government gave them permission to fly it in, and if Gabriel managed to persuade the local warlords not to steal it all and turn it into СКАЧАТЬ