The Medici Secret

Chapter 12

London, June 2003 It was approaching 7 p.m. and Sean Clifton was thinking about his earlier meeting with the estate agent in which he had concluded negotiations over the eight-bedroomed house he had chosen close to Sevenoaks. Emerging from Highgate tube station, he considered with pleasure the fact that he would not have to make this journey many more times. Soon, he would be bidding farewell to his scruffy rented flat just off the High Street.

Rush hour had passed and it was quietening down, most of the shops were closing. The street lights had come on and it had started to rain, windscreen wipers beating to the urban rhythm. But Sean Clifton was barely aware of anything around him. In his mind he was already the lord of the manor, sipping a G amp; T in his elegant drawing room with views across perfectly manicured lawns.

He turned off the High Street into a quieter road as the rain grew heavier. Quickening his pace, he crossed over, his head down, collar up. At the end of the street, he turned right. It was empty except for a young couple walking away from him on the other side. Without pausing to look, he stepped off the pavement and into the road. A silver Lexus pulled away from the curb.

He reached the mid-point of the road and turned just in time to catch a glimpse of the two men in the car and the huge hands of the driver, a sovereign ring on the middle finger of his right hand.

The car smashed into him, tossing him into the air. Landing on the bonnet, Clifton slithered beneath the wheels and the car drove on, crushing him. A faint hiss came from his mouth, and he died on the cold, wet tarmac.