The Key (11 page)

By tomorrow morning
the message had said.

He wondered if there were others, agents like himself who had received the same message. The sensitive nature of his work meant he always worked alone so nothing could be traced to his masters if things went wrong. But nothing would go wrong, he was far too experienced for that.

Ulvi slipped his hand into his other pocket and gathered three loose beads into his palm, each like a solid drop of fresh blood waiting to be threaded on the black string of his rosary. He rolled them between his fingers, reciting the names in his head: Kathryn Mann, Liv Adamsen, Brother Dragan Ruja. He had been surprised when the remaining monk had been included in the mission. But it was not for him to question orders. The monk had already given his life to God anyway – Ulvi was just there to collect it.

He settled in his chair and reached for the novel he had brought to help pass the time. It was about the Knights Templar – warrior priests like him. He was about to start reading when he became aware of footsteps drawing closer. The cop heard them too and looked up from his newspaper as a nurse appeared round the corner and continued marching towards them. Ulvi checked his watch. It was too early for the evening rounds and she was walking with a sense of purpose and hurry. She must have been summoned by someone in the rooms.

The nurse arrived at the small table and picked up the signing-in sheet. She didn’t acknowledge the presence of either of the men watching her. There had been tension ever since the hospital staff had been asked to clear out what few patients there were in the old psychiatric ward and stop the renovation work.

Be patient
, Ulvi thought.
You’ll have your building back by morning, I promise
.

He watched her write the time, her name, then ‘406’ in the ‘Room’ column. Liv Adamsen’s room. Ulvi picked up the keys from the desk and smiled at the nurse, but she gave him nothing in return.

So rude, these people
, he thought as he walked ahead of her down the corridor.
The sooner I’m done here, the better
.

Liv was sitting up in bed, straining to hear the sounds outside in the corridor.

The footsteps had come from the right, so that was the direction she needed to head when she got out of the room. There was a loud, single rap on the door and she pulled the sheets tight around her neck as it started to open.

The priest stepped into the room and she immediately felt the dread expand within her. The nurse followed and walked over to switch off the call light that had summoned her. ‘You OK?’ she asked in accented English, automatically pulling a digital thermometer from her pocket and placing it against Liv’s forehead.

‘Yes, fine, I think – I just need to ask you something.’ The nurse pressed a button to get a reading and the thermometer beeped. ‘When I was admitted, what happened to all my stuff?’

‘Personal items are stored in property office behind reception.’ The nurse studied the display on the thermometer, then grabbed Liv’s wrist to check her pulse.

‘So how would I go about getting them back?’

‘You sign when you leave.’ She counted the heartbeats then let the wrist drop, looking into Liv’s face for the first time since entering. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yes …’ Liv glanced over at the priest, as if embarrassed about what she was about to ask. ‘Can you tell me how I’m doing, you know – medically.’

The nurse plucked her notes from the wall holder and studied the file. ‘Some hormone imbalance – oestrogen levels very high, but not dangerous. You have high temperature, nausea. Maybe you have some virus. Big concern is memory.’ She flipped to the end and read through the psychiatrist’s notes. Liv had tried to make them out for herself but they were written in Turkish. And much as she wanted to leave this place, there was no point in making a run for it if she was going to drop down dead a hundred metres from the door.

‘Psychiatric report is good,’ the nurse said. ‘They only keep you here for observation.’

‘What drugs am I on?’

The nurse scanned the notes and shook her head. ‘No drugs. Just rest and observation.’

Liv was surprised at this and didn’t entirely believe it. There was far too much weirdness going on in her head for her not to be doped in some way.

‘So in theory, I could carry on as normal,’ Liv said, watching the nurse’s face for the slightest twitch of a professional lie. ‘I mean, there’s nothing I should avoid – going on a plane or scuba diving, for example?’

The nurse glanced at the priest and shrugged. ‘You do what you like.’

‘Thank you,’ Liv said, the words coming out like a sigh of relief.

‘Not a problem. Anything else?’

‘Yes, there is one more thing,’ Liv said, throwing the sheet off to reveal she was fully clothed. ‘I’d like to discharge myself – immediately.’

Liv had already grabbed a bag from the floor and was halfway to the door when Ulvi’s brain caught up with what was happening. Instinctively he moved to step in front of her, but she side-stepped him and squeezed through the open door.

Outside in the corridor the police officer rose from his seat and stepped towards her. ‘Back in your room.’

‘Why?’ Liv said, looking calmly up into his face.

‘Because … you’re not well.’

‘That’s not what the nurse just said.’ Liv glanced over her shoulder to where the nurse now stood. ‘And I’m not under arrest, am I?’

The cop opened his mouth to say something then seemed to think better of it. ‘No,’ he said.

Liv smiled and cocked her head to one side. ‘So would you step aside, please.’

He looked down at her, an internal debate raging in his head. He came to a conclusion and stepped aside.

‘You must stay here,’ the priest said, his words sounding like an order.

‘No,’ Liv said, already walking away. ‘I really mustn’t.’

She swung her bag over her shoulder and marched quickly away in the same direction she had heard the nurse arriving from.

Ulvi watched her go, weighing up his options. If he followed her now he could shadow her, wait until she was far away from the crowds, in a hotel room maybe: isolated; unobserved. It was tempting. But the other two targets were still here which meant so was the bulk of his mission.

He watched Liv reach the junction in the corridor and disappear round it.

In his mind he played back the events that had just taken place in the room, slowing them down, analysing them, then smiled as he remembered something Liv had said to the nurse.

She had asked if it was safe to fly.

He didn’t need to follow her after all. He knew exactly where she was going. He hoped there were other agents in the field with him. His loss would be their gain. He pulled his phone from his pocket and carefully tapped out a text to his controller.

Kathryn Mann had heard the voices outside, but her damaged hearing had not allowed her to hear who was speaking or what they were saying. Whoever it was had gone away now and she listened to the silence until she thought it safe to retrieve the book from her feeble hiding place.

The pages whispered in the silence of the room, like hints of the secrets they kept. She slipped her reading glasses down from her hair, bringing the first page into focus.

Please forgive the elaborate form of this message, but you will see why I took pains to ensure only you might discover it. The text I have transcribed here is a copy of something I received several years ago. The origin of it, and the means by which it came to me, are the reasons I kept it from you all these years. I know we never had secrets. Let me explain why this remained the only one I ever kept from you, then hopefully you will understand why I sought to keep it so.

The original tablet that contained this message is lost. The only reason I know of its existence is because a photograph was sent to me from an anonymous source a few months after John was killed. On the back of the photograph was a handwritten note saying simply:

This is what we found. This is why we were killed.

How the person that sent it knew of my existence I have often pondered. Maybe John confided in them, or left it for someone to pass on to me in the event of his death, the same way I am now communicating it to you. I believe whoever sent it to me chose me deliberately because of my peculiar past. I was already dead in the eyes of the Citadel and so passing this dangerous knowledge to me would not put me at any risk. Even the vengeful Citadel would not seek to kill a man who was already dead.

Know that I often debated whether to share this information with you. I hated keeping a secret from you, but in the end I erred on the side of caution. If John was killed because he discovered this tablet then even a suspicion that you knew anything about it would place your life in danger. I knew that you would inevitably pass it on to Gabriel. So you see my dilemma. My desire to share this knowledge, weighed against the risk it might pose to the two people I hold most dear in the world. How could I take that risk? I couldn’t – I didn’t.

But now I sense the endgame is near. I return to Ruin in the hope that the words of this second prophecy will show us the way after the first has been fulfilled. And if for some reason I cannot pass this on to you personally, then I am writing it here so you may discover it for yourself.

If you are reading this then I am dead…

Kathryn broke off, the starkness of the phrase puncturing her emotional resolve and bringing forth the hot tears she had been holding at bay. She removed her glasses and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She could not bear to think of him writing this lonely note like a condemned man facing the prospect of his own death. She wiped her eyes again then replaced her glasses and continued reading.

…I hope the fulfilment of the first prophecy shines a light on this second so that it may now help you on your journey towards restoring the rightful order of things. I spent many evenings musing about the meaning of it, but without knowing what the Sacrament is, it always remained a riddle. For my part, there is one thing I can shed some light on.

During my brief time in the Citadel I chanced upon something that I think may be the Starmap mentioned here. It came into the library with the same consignment of relics as the fragments that formed the first prophecy. It too had the Tau symbol on it, as well as what looked like constellations and directions written in a language I could not understand. I intended to study it further and learn what language it was written in, but I never had time. Soon afterwards I learned that my presence was suspected in the Citadel so I stole the slate fragments and fled. I would have brought the Starmap as well, but it was too heavy. I knew if I tried to swim the moat with that weighing me down I would sink. So I did the next best thing. I hid it.

I didn’t want the Sancti and their kind to benefit from whatever knowledge it contained so I put it somewhere they were unlikely to find it. My hope is that it rests there still and that with the first prophecy fulfilled you may now have free access to the Citadel yourselves and, by following the map I will outline, you will finally retrieve it.

Then the message ran out.

Kathryn looked at the next blank page. There had to be more here than she’d had time to reveal.

She flipped back to the first symbols she had revealed and read the first few lines again.

The full phase of the moon lasted just over twenty-eight days. Assuming that the evacuation of the Sancti from the mountain marked the moment of release for the Sacrament, then ten days had already passed. She read the rest of the message with a growing sense of dread.

She wondered at the sickness that seemed to have struck the Sancti. Could this be the blight that was mentioned? In the chaos of the ER when she had first arrived at the hospital she had glimpsed what it had done to the monks – the blackened skin, the blood-red eyes, the bleeding. If that spread out into the world it would be like the darkest vision from the Book of Revelation, turning all men into the image of demons. She looked at the blank page, restless with a desire to know what else was written there. It would be a whole day before the sun swung round again and shone back through her window, a day she could not afford to lose. She felt the weight of what she had just learned and the frustration of knowing that it was locked in this room with her, with the clock already ticking.

Ten days gone.

Eighteen remaining.

The lift door opened and Liv experienced a surge of panic. After days locked up in virtual isolation the noise and volume of people milling around the reception area was overwhelming. She had found a baseball cap in her bag and pulled it over her head now to hide her face a little, then forced herself out of the lift and across the worn mosaic floor towards the reception desk. She scanned the signs crowding the walls, seeking one that might offer a clue, but they were all in Turkish.

‘Patients’ property?’ she asked the receptionist.

A taloned finger pointed to a door by the entrance. She headed over, glancing outside as she passed the main door. It had been raining and the low afternoon sun shone off the wet pavement. A news truck was parked on the opposite side of the street, a cameraman and a reporter sitting in the cab smoking and talking while they waited for something to happen. She didn’t want to be ambushed leaving the building and end up on the evening news again. She needed to stay under the radar – for the time being at least. There had to be another way out of here.

The patients’ property office was tucked away in a dark cupboard with stacks of paperwork rising up from every horizontal surface and teetering precariously along the length of a narrow counter that cut the room in half. A young and bored-looking man sat behind it, steadily working his way through a large pile of folders with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man. Liv showed him the plastic tag around her wrist with her name and admissions number on it and he hefted a pile of folders under his arm and sloped off into the dark valley of shelves that stretched away behind him. Liv glanced at the door, listening to the muted sounds of the reception area beyond, ready to make a run for it at the first sign of marching boots. Her escape had been easier than she had expected. She had thought either the cop or the priest would have done more to stop her, but the surprise of her departure had clearly caught them both off guard. That didn’t mean she was free and clear though. They would undoubtedly both have been straight on the phone to their superiors and might be looking to detain her again even now. She needed to be cautious.