The Key

74

Evening brought the return of something approaching normality to the city of Ruin. There had been no aftershocks after the initial tremors, so the clean-up operation was rapid and unhampered. Most of the streets had re-opened with restaurant tables spreading over pavements that had been littered with broken glass only a few hours previously. There were plenty of people too, relaxing after the stress of the previous twenty-four hours. Into these crowds Gabriel emerged.

He ambled along, sticking to the more touristy streets, his face covered by the peak of his cap, heading through camouflaging crowds to the old town wall. He didn’t need to be in position for another few hours, but any earlier and the daylight would have made him easier to spot, any later and his presence on the empty streets might arouse unwanted suspicion.

The old town itself was now closed to the public. Since the mid-nineteenth century, every building in the old town had been converted to commercial use. The official line was that the curfew was to keep the area quiet so as not to interfere with nocturnal worship within the mountain. In truth, there was an ancient covenant on all the land surrounding the Citadel that capped residential rents at mediaeval levels, whereas commercial rates were not controlled. The church had earned ten times more money from rental income after the ban had come into place. So no one was allowed in the old town at night. Every day at dusk, stewards swept the streets, shepherding tourists down the hill towards the public gates, ready for the portcullises to bang down and seal the place up for the night. Consequently, Gabriel’s first challenge was to get inside.

He spotted Arkadian by one of the main public gates, loitering beside a metal door built into the old stonework. With millions of tourists and salvation seekers climbing the steep streets every year, there were almost daily incidents involving everything from twisted ankles to heat exhaustion. Most of these could be dealt with locally, but if something more serious transpired and they needed to get an ambulance up there fast, the emergency hatches came into use, operated and maintained by the ambulance service and the police.

Arkadian nodded at Gabriel as he approached and turned to the control panel to punch in the access codes. From somewhere inside the stone wall the sound of a motor began to purr and the metal screen started to rise. Gabriel slipped underneath without breaking stride. Arkadian followed, cradling his immobile arm as he crabbed underneath. He punched the same codes into another panel and the shutter juddered and reversed direction, sliding back down to the floor then banging shut with a percussive thump. The whole thing had taken less than a minute. They headed up the darkened streets in silence, keeping to the shadows.

The old town was lit by the yellowy glow of sodium lamps that cast a sickly light over the deserted buildings, making the whole place look diseased. They trod carefully, minimizing the sound of their footfalls on the hard cobbles, listening out for the sound of the clean-up crew. They heard nothing but the muffled noise of the night, and the sounds of people enjoying themselves beyond the old town walls.

Halfway up the hill Arkadian ducked into a narrow passage between two leaning buildings and unlocked a door to a small office with a counter running the length of it and posters on the walls giving advice about pickpockets in several languages. It was the old town police station, as good a place as any to wait until it was time to move. Gabriel checked his watch. They had about four hours to kill, but at least they were in position.

Arkadian flipped the hatch on the counter and moved through to the back room, careful not to switch on any lights.

‘You want a coffee?’ he called out, already filling a kettle. ‘It’s going to be a long night, you’ll probably be glad of the caffeine.’

‘Thanks.’ During all-night ops in Afghanistan, Gabriel and his troop had chewed on the caffeine pills known as Ripper Fuel, or sometimes emptied packets of freeze-dried coffee straight into their mouths to stay awake. It was the curious thing about combat: the thing that got to you most was the waiting. Boredom was at least as big a killer as the bullets. It made you crazy — reckless — and now, as then, he could afford to be neither. He should really try to get some sleep, but he knew it was impossible. He kept thinking of Liv, captured by the enemy and slowly heading this way. He couldn’t help feeling that he had failed her.

‘Here,’ Arkadian held out a mug of black coffee, ‘not exactly finest khave, but it should keep you awake.’

Gabriel took it and sipped the scalding liquid. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Thanks for everything.’

Arkadian shrugged. ‘Just trying to make sure the good guys win. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me exactly what all this is about?’

Gabriel thought of everything he had learned in the last few hours: the Mirror Prophecy, the end of days, the search for the true location of Eden. It was difficult to know where to start. He looked up into the intelligent face of the detective and it suddenly became obvious.

‘It started twelve years ago,’ he said, ‘or it did for me at least. It began with the death of my father…’