Read Online Necropolis by Anthony Horowitz - Free Book Online Page A

explanation could there be?
    The interview ended when Paul Adams appeared. A taxi had brought him straight from Heathrow Airport, and he burst into the room, his suit crumpled, his face a mixture of anxiety, relief, and irritation, all three of them compounded by a generous dose of jet lag.
    "Scarly!" He went over and hugged his daughter.
    "Hello, Dad."
    "I can't believe they've found you. Are you hurt? Where have you been?" The two policewomen exchanged a glance. Paul Adams turned to them. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take my daughter home.
    Mrs. Murdoch…"
    They left the hospital by a back exit, avoiding the press pack who were still camped out at the front. By now, Scarlett was exhausted. She had been found midmorning, but it was early evening before she was released. She was desperate to go to bed, and once she got there, she slept through the entire night.
    Maybe that was just as well. She would need all her strength for the headlines that were waiting for her the next day.
    MISSING SCHOOLGIRL FOUND AFTER JUST ONE DAY
    POLICE ASK— WAS THIS A PRANK?
    Mystery still surrounds the return of fifteen-year-old schoolgirl Scarlett Adams, who was discovered by police just one day after she went missing on a school trip. Scarlett was feared abducted after she vanished during a visit to St. Meredith's church in East London, prompting a national search. She was later found unhurt inside the church itself.
    Although she received hospital treatment for minor scratches, there was no indication that she had been assaulted or kept against her will. So far, the girl — described as "bright and sensible" by the teachers at the ,000-a-year private school that she attends in Dulwich — has been unable to offer any explanation, claiming that she is suffering from memory loss. Her father, Paul Adams, a corporate lawyer, angrily dismissed claims that the whole incident might have been a schoolgirl prank. "Scarlett has obviously suffered a traumatic experience, and I'm just glad to have her back," he said.

    Meanwhile, the police seem anxious to close the file. "What matters is that Scarlett is safe," Detective Chris Kloet said, speaking from New Scotland Yard. "We may never know what happened to her in the eighteen hours she was gone, but we are satisfied that no crime seems to have been committed."
    The report had been sent ten thousand miles by fax. It was being examined by a boy in a room in Nazca, Peru. After he was done reading it, he got up and went over to a desk. He held the sheet of paper under a light. There was a picture of Scarlett next to the text. She had been photographed holding a hockey stick with two more girls, one on each side. A team photo. The boy examined her carefully. She was quite good-looking, he thought. Asian, he would have said. Almost certainly the same age as him.
    "When did this arrive?" he asked.
    "Half an hour ago," came the reply.
    The boy's name was Matthew Freeman. He was the first of the Gatekeepers and, without quite knowing how, he had become their unelected leader. Four months ago, he had faced the Old Ones in the Nazca Desert and had tried to close the barrier, the huge gate, that for centuries had kept them at bay. He had failed. The King of the Old Ones had cut him down where he stood, leaving him for dead. The last thing he had seen was the armies of the Old Ones, spreading out and disappearing into the night.
    It had taken him six weeks to recover from his injuries, and since then he had been resting, trying to work out what to do next. He was staying in a Peruvian farmhouse, a hacienda just outside the town of Nazca itself. Richard Cole, the journalist who had traveled with him from England, was still with him.
    Richard was his closest friend. It was he who had just come into the room.
    "It's got to be her," Matt said.
    Richard nodded. "She was in St. Meredith's. She must have gone through the same door that you went through. God knows what happened to her. She was missing for eighteen