Equinox

Chapter 46

Los Angeles: two days later.

A tall, slender man wearing baggy cargo shorts and a fedora stepped out into the blazing sun of a perfect Californian morning. It was quiet along the beach strip and still too early for the stalls to be open.

Crossing the boardwalk, he strolled barefoot through the powdery warm sand of Venice Beach to the water's edge. He turned and looked back at the spacious beach house painted brilliant white and girdled by steel and glass balconies, before settling himself down onto the sand to stare out at the ocean.

His mobile bleeped. He looked at the screen and read the text. It said: 'Task completed. Last girl saved. Master and servant both dead. I wish you eternal happiness. Bradwardine.'

Charlie Tucker smiled and pondered the waves. It had not been easy faking his own death in London, but as the leader of the Guardians he had many resources at his disposal. The police and ambulance

crews at the scene of his 'murder' had been loyal members of the fraternity. They had performed their tasks perfectly and, even as he had begun to acclimatise to the Californian sun, others had arranged his funeral in Croydon. He had felt bad about leading Laura into danger but, as he had told her on the DVD that he had left behind, she was immersing herself in the mystery anyway.

He had much to thank the twenty-first-century Bradwardine for Bradwardine had been the code name used by his most trusted companion and fellow Guardian, Malcolm Bridges. Malcolm had had the most dangerous job of all, and he had risked everything. He had been planted in MI5 and at Oxford to monitor occult activities, just as John Wickins had been placed in Cambridge almost three and a half centuries earlier to watch over Newton. There was little that Bridges could have done to alert the authorities. Instead, he had acted in the way all Guardians had acted through the centuries: he had watched and waited, befriended and interfered as best he could without drawing attention to the ancient organisation of which he was a part. Charlie understood this because he had done exactly the same thing — he had used others, manoeuvring them to do the things that he needed them to do.

And from across the world, Bradwardine/Bridges had kept him appraised of the whole sequence of events. He had been informed when Lightman went underground, literally. The Professor had used tactics similar to his own and had faked his disappearance even down to the detail of having a witness claim that they had seen his abduction. He also knew that Laura and Philip had penetrated the labyrinth. From six thousand miles away, he could do little more than wait, hoping he had given them enough information to get through safely without blowing his own cover. Now he knew that Jo was safe and Lightman and Spenser were both dead.

With a sigh, Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out the precious object he carried with him everywhere now: a perfect ruby sphere. He held it up to the light, considering the fine lines of hieroglyphics that ran in a closely packed spiral from pole to pole. The sun caught in its fathomless depths. Returning the orb to his pocket, he looked out at the glassy blue ocean, feeling content with the world.