Читать книгу Bestselling Conspiracy Thriller Trilogy: Sanctus, The Key, The Tower - Simon Toyne, Simon Toyne - Страница 109

Arkadian was sitting in the passenger seat of an unmarked patrol car, staring at a line of stationary traffic when the switchboard picked up.

‘Ruin Police Division.’

‘Yeah, could you put me through to Sub-Inspector Sulley Mantus,’ he said.

‘Who’s calling, please?’

‘Inspector Arkadian.’

The line cut out and a tinny version of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons counted away the seconds. The traffic had managed to move forward a whole car length by the time the operator returned.

‘Sorry, that line isn’t answering.’

‘OK, could you patch me through to his mobile?’

The line cut out again. This time it went straight to answer-phone. Where the hell had he got to? ‘This is Arkadian,’ he said, his voice flat and annoyed. ‘Call me back immediately.’

He hung up and stared out at the traffic-choked street. He’d called Sulley the moment he found out about the news-crew ambush at the morgue. He’d watched it on TV, Sulley practically dragging Liv past the cameras then shoving her into a police car like she was a suspect. He was going to tear him a new asshole when he got hold of him. Maybe Sulley suspected as much and that’s why he wasn’t returning his calls. The phone chirruped in his hand and he snapped it open. ‘Sulley?’

‘No, it’s Reis. I’ve got some news for you.’

Arkadian blew out his frustration at the windscreen in a long stream of air. ‘Is it good news?’

‘It’s … intriguing. I just sneaked into the lab and had a peek at the DNA fingerprint to see how things were shaping up. I’ve lined up the girl’s buccal sample with one from the monk. It’s about halfway through the electrophoresis, but I fluorized it anyway to see how the strands were separating.’

‘I don’t know what any of that means. Just tell me: do they match?’

‘They’ve still got a way to go before they’re fully extruded, but the way it’s looking now I’d say they’re more than just a match, they’re identical. Which is odd.’

‘Why? It backs up her story.’

‘Yeah, it does. But I was kind of expecting the results to prove the girl wasn’t the monk’s sister.’

‘How come?’

‘Because in the entire recorded history of conjoined twins there has never been a single case where they were different sexes. Genetically they have to be the same gender because they’re effectively one person.’

‘So it’s not possible?’

Reis paused. ‘Medically speaking, it’s extremely unlikely.’

‘But not impossible?’

‘No. There’re plenty of recorded cases of dual sex characteristics in individuals – hermaphrodites and such; and considering the religious slant on this whole case, I guess if you believe in a virgin birth it leaves the door wide open for the possibility of all sorts of …’

‘Miracle?’

‘I was going to say “unexplained phenomena”.’

‘Isn’t that the same thing?’

Reis said nothing.

‘So, based on the evidence, you think the girl’s telling the truth?’

Reis paused again, weighed down with the natural scepticism of the scientist. ‘Yes,’ he said finally, ‘I think she is. I didn’t until I saw the results of the DNA match, but you can’t fake that.’

Arkadian smiled, pleased that the trust he’d put in the girl had not been misplaced. He was now convinced more than ever that she was the key to the whole thing. ‘Do me a favour, would you?’ he asked. ‘Could you add all this to the case file and I’ll go through it when I get back to the office.’

‘Sure. No sweat. Where are you now?’

Arkadian glanced up at the static traffic jammed into the narrow streets leading to the Garden District. ‘Still looking for the dead monk,’ he said. ‘Though a dead man could move faster than me at the moment. How’re things back there? The press got bored yet?’

‘Are you kidding, there’s hundreds of them out there now. Bet you can’t wait for the six o’clock news.’

‘Oh, sure,’ Arkadian replied, thinking of the inevitable MONK’S BODY SNATCHED FROM UNDER COPS’ NOSES headlines. ‘Goodbye, Reis,’ he said, and hung up before he could say anything more. He turned to the plain-clothes officer sitting silently next to him. ‘Think I might take a stroll,’ he said, slipping off his safety belt. ‘You’ve got the address, I’ll meet you there.’

He twisted out of the passenger seat before the driver had time to answer and started walking up the street, weaving between slow-moving cars, earning himself an extended lean on someone’s horn and the finger from a van driver. Walking felt good. It shook loose some of his frustration. But Sulley’s continued silence bothered him. He scrolled through his calls received menu until he found Liv’s number, hit the call button and looked up. In the distance he could see Exegesis Street written on a street sign that wavered through the heat haze and rising fumes.

He walked towards it, listening to a robotic voice telling him the person he was trying to reach was unavailable. He frowned. The last time he’d called it had been Liv’s own voice telling him to leave a message. He redialled. Got the same robot operator. It was definitely her number – it just wasn’t her. He disconnected without leaving a message.

Exegesis Street was much wider than the street he had come from and was lined with once-grand houses that were now just a shabby collection of office buildings turned black by traffic and time. He walked down the shady side, counting down the houses until he found the number 38 carved deep into a stone pillar by a wide door. Beneath it a square of brass shone against the stone, spelling out the word Ortus above a logo of a four-petalled flower with the earth at its centre. He slipped the phone into his pocket and hopped up the three steps leading to the heavy glass doors, incongruously modern in the carved stone entrance. He pushed against them and went inside.