The Rome Prophecy

101

A woman passing by screams hysterically.

The man who’s just levelled a gun at Tom’s head glances to his left.

It’s all the American needs.

He plants a drop kick deep into the guy’s guts and follows with a hard right-hander into his mouth.

Amazingly, the guy’s still upright. And still holding the weapon.

Tom throws a left, then twin punches with his right.

Now he goes down.

Hits the floor like a TV dropped from the top of a tower block. The gun clatters from his open hand.

The four-by-four’s engine roars into life.

Seems the driver’s got his act together.

Tom spins round.

That’s his first mistake.

He clutches at the now closed driver’s door, but it won’t open. The central locking’s on.

He pulls again at the handle as the Land Rover lurches up on to the pavement.

That’s his second mistake.

He hasn’t noticed a man climb out of a similar vehicle parked a few metres away.

An agonising pain erupts in Tom’s right shoulder.

It’s followed by another behind his left knee. The combination of blows sends him sprawling into the road.

Instinctively, he rolls.

He learned at school that if you stay still in a street fight, then you’re as good as asking for a beating.

Now he sees the cause of the pain.

A baseball bat slaps into the brown water beside his head.

Tom grabs the club but feels a terrible burning in his right shoulder. Something’s busted.

He can’t hold on.

The wood slips from his fingers.

The guy takes a swing and slaps Tom on the side of his ribs.

Tom tries to roll again.

The bat man takes a stride to his left, raises the club and starts a swing that he’s sure will pop Tom’s head like a water-melon.

Only he never makes it.

Instead, he freezes midway during the draw-back.

A sharp pain erupts inside his chest. It feels like someone has stuck a knife in his heart.

And that’s because someone has.

The throwing hand of Guilio Brygus Angelis is still extended, his fingers pointing at exactly the spot at which the ancient dagger was aimed.