Bestselling Conspiracy Thriller Trilogy: Sanctus, The Key, The Tower - Simon Toyne

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need to tell us what happened,’ Cornelius had said, like he was just offering friendly advice. ‘You need to tell us how the girl managed to escape. And, most importantly,’ he’d added, so close that the whiskers of his beard brushed against Kutlar’s ear, ‘you need to tell us what she looks like.’

      That was why he was still breathing. They only had her name, but he had seen her face. As long as they were still looking for her, he was more useful to them alive.

      The passage rose suddenly and emerged into a cavernous chamber. Johann swung the wheel and the headlights flashed across a steel door before they crunched to a stop. Johann killed the engine and he and Cornelius slipped out of the cab. Kutlar didn’t move. He watched them in the side mirrors. The chassis shifted slightly as the back doors opened and Kutlar heard the ripple of heavy plastic as the first of the stiffs was lifted out.

      He’d been shocked when they popped the two paramedics. The doc’s death had been more acceptable somehow; no one would be that surprised when his body was eventually found slumped in the chair where they’d left him. He’d stepped across the line long ago when he got hooked on junk and started treating gunshot wounds. The medics, though – they were just civilians.

      Glowing red in the brake lights, the monks reappeared from behind the van with the first body-bag and laid it by the steel door. When they’d twice repeated the process, Johann took out his swipe card and the door sprung inwards. Seconds later it clicked back into place, sealing the bodies inside.

      Cornelius and Johann climbed back into the van.

      ‘I can help you find her,’ Kutlar said.

      Cornelius turned to him, lip curled. ‘How?’

      ‘Get us out of here and I’ll show you.’ Kutlar tried to conjure up a smile but only managed a grimace. ‘I need to make a call.’ He shrugged theatrically. ‘But there’s no signal down here.’

      Cornelius said nothing for a moment, just looked at the thin film of sweat bathing Kutlar’s skin despite the chill of their surroundings. ‘Sure,’ he said finally.

      Johann twisted the ignition key.

      The engine throbbed into life, the sound suddenly overwhelming in the confined space. Kutlar glanced at the wing mirror and watched the red glow fade from the cave as they drove away.

      The three body-bags lay in the black silence of the mountain while torches were being lit in the maze of tunnels above by those coming to collect them. A little over twenty-four hours after escaping from the Citadel, Brother Samuel had returned.

      IV

      In the beginning was the World,

      And the World was God, and the World was good.

       Fragment from the Heretic Bible

      69

      As crime scenes go, the cold-storage chamber of the city morgue was about as good as it got. Highly restricted access had prevented the usual build up of partial prints, hair follicles and other assorted trace evidence that clouded most investigations. All the surfaces were clinically clean. And there was a complete CCTV record showing where the suspects had been and what they had touched.

      ‘There,’ Arkadian said, pointing at the edge of the bunched-up green plastic sheet on the trolley. ‘The first suspect touched it as he pulled it over himself.’

      Petersen smiled. The only thing easier to lift prints off was glass.

      ‘He also touched that drawer.’ Arkadian pointed to locker number eight. ‘Let me know as soon as you find anything.’ He left Petersen laying out his brushes and unscrewing a tub of fine aluminium powder.

      A uniformed officer was stationed by the door, ensuring no one else came in or out. Reis paced the corridor outside his office. He held up a specimen jar as Arkadian approached.

      Arkadian took it without breaking his stride. ‘Where is she?’

      ‘First-floor staff room,’ Reis called after him.

      The statement detailed everything that had happened to her from walking into the morgue to identifying the mystery man on the CCTV footage. Liv was preparing to sign it when Arkadian appeared. She still wondered what Gabriel’s game was and why he was playing it. She hadn’t described him as ‘the man who tried to kidnap me’. The most he had done was to impersonate an officer and offer her a lift into the city. He wasn’t the one who’d stuck a gun in her face. He hadn’t snatched her brother’s body either, although she still wasn’t sure what he’d been doing in the cold-storage room. In the end she’d settled for ‘the man who met me at the airport and claimed he was my police escort’. It wasn’t elegant, but it was accurate. She scribbled the date next to her name.

      The uniformed officer checked her signature then scraped his chair back from the narrow table. Arkadian closed the door behind him.

      Liv dragged a depressed-looking geranium across the table towards her and started deadheading it, pinching the shrivelled flowers from the choked stems and crumbling them into the pot. ‘Found him yet?’

      Arkadian looked down into the street. It would have been the perfect moment for a police van to screech to a halt in front of the building with all three suspects cuffed in the back, but it didn’t happen.

      ‘Not yet,’ he said. A diesel rainbow was smeared across the wet road where the fire-trucks had parked. ‘We’re working on it.’ He turned back to the crumpled newspaper on the table between them, the front page now a kaleidoscope of letters and crossings out. ‘Had any luck with that?’

      ‘Haven’t had much time to focus on it, to be honest. Been kind of distracted.’

      Arkadian said nothing, hoping the silence would soften her.

      ‘Do you really believe this is why they took him?’ She examined the scrawled symbols and letters once more.

      ‘Maybe. As soon as we catch them, we’ll ask. Until then, I’d like to ask you something.’ He laid the package Reis had given him down on the table-top.

      Liv’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s a buccal swabbing kit.’

      Arkadian nodded. ‘Given what Reis got back from the lab, it would be very helpful for us to compare your DNA with your brother’s. It would also establish your biological kinship beyond any doubt.’ He slid the kit towards her.

      Liv picked the last dead flower from the geranium and mulched it with the others. She rubbed her hands together then opened the specimen jar and wiped the cotton swab inside her cheek. She screwed down the lid and handed it back to him. The Citadel rose up behind the buildings across the street, stark and impassive against the sky. The sight of it made her shudder.

      Arkadian followed her gaze. Saw a flash of movement from the street below. ‘Jesus,’ he said, springing from his chair. A TV news van had pulled up in front of the building.

      ‘I didn’t call them,’ she said. ‘I’m strictly print. We hate those guys.’

      There was a knock on the door.

      ‘Sorry, chief,’ Petersen said, ‘but I’ve lifted practically a whole set of latents from the sheet. You want me to send them for routine processing or fast track?’

      ‘Hang on a minute, I’ll come with you.’ He turned back to Liv. ‘I know you didn’t call that news crew, so don’t misread what I’m about to say … I think we need to get you out of the building.’

      Liv’s expression darkened.

      ‘This isn’t an attempt to get rid of you; I just think you’d be safer away from here. If the press know what’s happened, they’ll lay siege to the place. I don’t want the people who took your brother finding out on the six o’clock news that you’re here.

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