Читать книгу Bestselling Conspiracy Thriller Trilogy: Sanctus, The Key, The Tower - Simon Toyne, Simon Toyne - Страница 93

The phone clicked in Liv’s ear.

‘Hello?’

‘You sent me a warning,’ Liv said. ‘Who are you?’

There was the briefest of pauses. Ordinarily she wouldn’t have noticed it; now it made her instantly suspicious.

‘A friend,’ the woman replied. ‘Where are you now?’

Liv continued to drift with the tourist tide, felt the comforting press of other ordinary, straightforward human beings around her. ‘Why would I tell you that?’

‘Because we can protect you. Because there are people looking for you right now. People who want to silence you. Liv, there’s no easy way of saying this. These people want to kill you …’

Liv hesitated, somehow more unsettled by the sudden intimacy of the woman using her name than by the announcement that someone wanted her dead.

‘Who wants to kill me?’

‘Ruthless, formidable people. They want to silence you because they think your brother shared knowledge with you; knowledge that no one is supposed to have.’

Liv glanced down at the letters scrawled across the newspaper in her hand. ‘I don’t know anything,’ she said.

‘It doesn’t matter to them. If they think you know something, that’s enough. They risked taking you at the airport. They also stole your brother’s body because of it and they’ll keep looking for you until they find you. They don’t take chances.’ The woman let the statement hang in the air for a beat before continuing in a softer tone. ‘If you tell me where you are, I can send someone to bring you to a safe place. The same man I sent to protect you last night.’

‘Gabriel?’

‘Yes,’ Kathryn replied. ‘He’s with us. He was sent to look out for you. He did look out for you. Tell me where you are and I’ll send him to you.’

Liv wanted to trust her, but she needed time to think before she could allow herself to trust anyone else right now. Apart from the borrowed clothes on her back, all she had was her few dollars in change, a phone that was about to run out of battery, and yesterday’s copy of a local newspaper. She looked at it now. Saw her brother’s face staring out at her from a halo of scrawled letters and symbols. Realized something. Twisted the paper round and read the small print on the back page.

‘I’ll call you back,’ she said.

Sulley moved past the newsstand.

The girl was less than fifty feet in front of him. He jostled through the slow-moving crowd, gradually closing the gap between them, still not quite sure what he was going to do when he got to her. He thought about simply turning round and making his way back to the district building. But if he did, the guy in the van could rat him out; an anonymous tip giving the name of the person who’d been leaking information with copies of the files as proof. He’d been careful to cover his tracks – but even so. If they could link the monk’s disappearance with him, he’d be looking at some heavy shit: compromising an ongoing investigation, perverting the course of justice, selling privileged information. He could go to prison – every police officer’s worst nightmare.

So he kept on walking, keeping the crowd between him and the girl in case she looked round and saw him. Standard surveillance procedure. As he closed in on her he thought about just telling her to run, then disappear himself until all this blew over.

He fixed his eyes on the dark blue hood and walked a little faster. Just ten feet away now.

Five.

He was almost upon her when he saw the white van pull to a stop at the far end of the pedestrian street, trapping her like a rat in a drainpipe. There was no way she could get away now. No way either of them could. He had to go through with it.

He slowed, allowing the distance between them to lengthen again as the flow of people took her closer to the van. He didn’t want to drag her further than was absolutely necessary. Up ahead he saw the big man with the beard step out of the van and move round to open the rear doors. They were only ten feet away now. He stepped forward. Reached out to grab her. Noticed the other guy inside the van frowning at the notebook then looking up and shaking his head.

Too late.

His freckled hand landed on the girl’s shoulder and he spun her round.

‘Hey!’ She twisted out of his grip.

Sulley looked at the shocked face framed in the blue hood. It wasn’t the girl.

‘Sorry,’ Sulley said, jerking his hand away like he’d touched a live cable. ‘I thought you were …’

He pointed at the POLICE sweatshirt. ‘Where did you get this?’

The girl glared at him. He dug out his badge and watched the defiance vanish.

She pointed back in the direction they’d come. ‘I swapped it with some girl.’

Sulley followed her outstretched arm. Saw nothing but a mass of strangers. ‘How long ago?’

She shrugged. ‘Couple of minutes.’

‘What did you swap it for?’

‘Just another sweatshirt.’

‘Could you describe it?’

The girl raised her palms. ‘White. Kind of … washed out. Bit worn at the sleeves.’

In the midday warmth most of those filling the street had now dispensed with their coats and jackets; more than half were wearing something white. With his back still turned to the van, Sulley allowed himself a smile.

Nice work, missy, he thought to himself. Nice work indeed.