Sanctus

Chapter 137

The bike’s headlamp swept across the jagged walls of the tunnel, curving up and away towards the flat steel upright of the entrance.

The solid shutter loomed up and Kathryn stamped hard on the brake, locking the wheels and slithering across the concrete floor until the front wheel clanged against it, bringing her to a sudden, echoing stop. She snatched the key card from her teeth and reached across to swipe it through the lock, dropping the bike to the ground where it stalled into silence. From behind her she thought she could hear the crackle of fire echoing down the tunnel and she dropped to the floor next to the bike, ready to slide outside the moment the shutter started to rise.

But nothing happened.

She looked down at the card, bent slightly from where she’d bitten down on it, flexed it straight and swiped it again.

Still nothing.

She looked round, searching for another lock or way of escape and saw a security camera, squatting like a crow high in the corner, peering down with its large glass eye. The red light on its front winked and she realized with rising panic that the door was not going to open.

She was trapped.

Gabriel’s left arm burned with pain as he rolled the stripped body of the monk into the parachute and dragged it across the wet grass to where a tangle of cut branches lay in a pile. He’d knocked it badly when he hit the trees and now the adrenalin of the free-fall was easing off, the pain was flooding in. He could just about move his fingers but could hardly grip anything worth a damn. It felt like it was broken.

He cradled it to his body and pulled some branches over the cocooned shape of the monk with his good right hand then headed back to where he’d stashed his backpack at the base of an apple tree. Above him he could hear the dry whisper of leaves and the distant hum of the city beyond, but no muffled boom shook the ground beneath his feet. Maybe something had gone wrong.

He reached inside the bag and switched on his PDA. He closed his right eye to preserve night vision, ducked his head down to the opening of the pack and peered inside.

The monitor was showing a white dot, expanding and contracting towards the top of the screen. There was no other information. The wire-frame lines sketching the skeletal outlines of streets had gone. He was off the map. Without any points of reference he would have to use it as a simple direction finder, following the signal from the transponder in Samuel’s body. He was pretty sure that wherever they’d taken him would be where they’d now take Liv.

He closed the bag and gritted his teeth against the pain as he pulled the hood of the russet-coloured cassock over his arms and head. Through the trees he could see the faint glow of a light behind a window cut high in the wall. He watched it while he reached into the backpack to remove the gun and PDA, listening for the rumble of the explosion. It should have happened by now. He was counting on the shock of the blast and the smoke that followed to cause enough confusion for him to get safely lost in the mountain. But he couldn’t wait for ever. Someone might miss the monk he’d just killed and come looking for him, or sound an alarm and put the whole mountain on alert. He couldn’t afford to let that happen. Not if he wanted to get Liv out alive. His mind drifted to thoughts of what might have happened to his mother but he quickly shut them down. Speculation wouldn’t get the job done.

He waited for a few more seconds, flexing his stiff left hand to test it. It hurt like hell but it would have to do. The light in the window shifted slightly as someone moved behind it and he rose from the ground, his hands buried in the sleeves of the cassock — the good one holding his gun, the other gripping the PDA as best he could. He headed across the grass, following the line of the pathway that would lead to a door and into the Citadel.

Kathryn could feel panic rising inside her like whistling steam.

She had no idea how long she had left before the van exploded. She scanned the passage frantically for a way out, her mind screaming with her desire to survive.

Think dammit!

The tunnel was curved. It was possible the shape of it would protect her from the direct force of the blast. She pictured the shock wave travelling down the narrow space, throwing her against the steel shutter like a hammer on an anvil. She needed to get down, tuck into the wall as tightly as she could, and offer the smallest possible area for the blast to act upon. She hopped over the bike and dropped to the ground, noticed the helmet still hooked over the handlebars, yanked it free and jammed it on to her head as she rolled to the left where the curve of the tunnel might deflect some of the blast. She hit the smooth upright of the wall and tucked herself into the gap where it met the floor, her frantic mind casting about for anything else she should do. In the confines of the helmet her breathing was deafening.

She snatched a quick breath.

Pinched her nose.

Blew hard into her sinuses.