The Key

37

Kathryn Mann watched the priest from the fragile fort of her bed as though he was a bear walking across her room. He was talking to her but her hearing was too damaged and the high-pitched whine of fear too loud in her head for her to make out what he was saying. His face was fixed in a kindly expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He might be saying things to calm her after the quake, making sure she was all right — but she felt terrified.

She doubted she would have the strength to fight him or get away if it came to that. He looked so solid and strong and the quake had shaken her up, knocking her already fragile equilibrium. She felt weak and sick. The room was swimming, he was shifting in and out of focus as he moved closer to the bed. She felt a jolt as he shoved the bed back against the wall from where it had been shaken. Then he came round the side, still talking. He leaned forward, reaching for something behind her head and she caught snatches of what he was saying:

‘… Don’t worry. Soon be over…’

The room shifted as he slid a pillow from behind her head.

Her head lolled to one side and her gaze settled on the door. She was too weak to fight, or run, or even shout for help. She thought of Gabriel, and the pain of never seeing him again. She hoped he would come and find the diary, even if he was too late to save her. Her beautiful boy, so like his father.

Then, as if summoned by her need to see him once more — the door began to open.

Ulvi did not notice at first. He was focusing on the woman’s neck, deciding whether to smother her or just break it for speed.

‘Everything OK in here?’

He looked over and saw the cop.

Ulvi felt a surge of hatred. He had figured the idiot would be out of the way at least until the lights came on, but the damn irritating fool clearly wasn’t even up to sorting out that simple task.

‘All fine,’ he said, adjusting the pillow that had almost become a murder weapon.

The cop regarded him from the doorway, his scrutiny switching between the woman and him. ‘You checked on the monk?’

Ulvi’s hatred continued to simmer. ‘No, not yet.’

The cop nodded slowly as if the answer had revealed something. ‘Well then, maybe you should.’

Ulvi felt such a desire to slit the man’s throat it was almost unbearable, but in this room at least the policeman edged it on jurisdiction. The woman was under arrest and was therefore technically his charge. So he swallowed all the violent feelings he was experiencing and made his way out of the room without another word.

Outside, the corridor was still dark and he had to feel his way along the wall to where the monk’s room lay. He reached it and looked back. The cop was there, watching him. He could see his outline against the distant glow of light coming from the main building. Why had he picked tonight to turn into a proper policeman?

No matter.

The monk needed dealing with too. He would kill him quickly then go back and finish what he had started. And if the cop was there, then he would have to die too. With the girl gone, Ulvi had a spare bead in his pocket.