Read Online The Borgia Ring by Michael White - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael White
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stood still in the semi-darkness, straining to hear. The sound stopped. We walked slowly up the nave. It was so dark we could see only a few feet to either side of us. The sides of the chapel remained in shadow. A few steps on and the pulpit reared out of the gloom, an ugly stone block. Behind it stood a huge carved cross, a pale Christ hanging bloodied upon it.
The sound came again. A tap, then another. It was growing louder, coming closer. Sebastian turned with the lantern and we each caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure standing a few feet before us, a flash of long, white hair, piercing black eyes in a sallow face.
‘Welcome,’ the figure said in a rasping voice.
Sebastian was a step ahead of me. I saw him crumple as he was struck by a heavy object that swung out from the darkness. Stunned, I moved to catch my friend as he fell. But as I bent forward, I felt a rush of air, the sound of a heavy object whistling past my ear, and then a terrible pain shot through the side of my head. The face of an old man, hisalmost translucent hair flying in front of his eyes, flashed before me. Then the ground reared up, twisting and blurring before me, as my legs gave way and blackness enveloped me.
Stepney, Saturday 4 June, 9.05 p.m.
The hooded figure was carrying a black metal box about the size of a large camera case. He moved rapidly along the silent, empty corridor until he reached the control panel for the university’s CCTV system. After snipping the cables, he closed the cover. At the front desk and in the monitoring room in the basement of the main administration building, the surveillance monitors turned blue.
Moving swiftly on to the stairwell, the intruder took the stairs three at a time. By the fourth floor he was out of breath and stopped for a moment, bent forward, hands on knees. Then he eased open the door into another narrow corridor. A sign on the wall announced he was in the Department of Plant Biotechnology, Queen Mary College.
A door with wire mesh over its window panel was locked. Beside it was a keypad. With latex-covered fingers he punched in the code for which he had paid hard cash earlier that day. There was a satisfying click and he eased the door inwards. A sallow glow emanated from overhead safety lights. He could just make out rows of steel benches, gas taps, sinks, racks of chemicals. Along one side of the large lab stood a set of floor-to-ceiling cupboards. Next to that a gas cabinet, its thickened glass door closed and locked. On the far side was a window on to the room beyond. Inside, hecould just see the outlines of many plants crammed into a tight space. Foliage pressed against the inside of the glass.
He was about to walk that way when he heard voices from the corridor beyond the lab. A square of massicot appeared at the door as someone flicked on the lights in the corridor. He ducked down out of sight at the end of a row of benches. Someone tried the door handle.
‘It’s locked,’ a voice said.
‘Good,’ came the reply. ‘Let’s check upstairs.’
He waited a few beats before straightening up, straining to listen. Then he walked slowly towards his goal. The door into the greenhouse was opened with the same code as for the lab door. He closed it carefully behind him.
It was stifling inside, the smell of damp, and rotting soil, almost overpowering. He paced slowly along the rows of plants, neatly bedded in evenly spaced pots. He avoided brushing against the leaves and only touched a plant with his gloved fingers when it was necessary in order to get by.
He had no interest in plants, otherwise he might have appreciated the wonderful colours in the greenhouse: the rich ruby reds, sunset shades of orange, the cheeriest yellows and sombre jungle greens. Instead, his mind was focused on one thing, his objective. Passing the end of the second row and scrutinising the third, he saw them at last, a pair of small unassuming plants at either end of the row. One had narrow, murky green
The sound came again. A tap, then another. It was growing louder, coming closer. Sebastian turned with the lantern and we each caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure standing a few feet before us, a flash of long, white hair, piercing black eyes in a sallow face.
‘Welcome,’ the figure said in a rasping voice.
Sebastian was a step ahead of me. I saw him crumple as he was struck by a heavy object that swung out from the darkness. Stunned, I moved to catch my friend as he fell. But as I bent forward, I felt a rush of air, the sound of a heavy object whistling past my ear, and then a terrible pain shot through the side of my head. The face of an old man, hisalmost translucent hair flying in front of his eyes, flashed before me. Then the ground reared up, twisting and blurring before me, as my legs gave way and blackness enveloped me.
Stepney, Saturday 4 June, 9.05 p.m.
The hooded figure was carrying a black metal box about the size of a large camera case. He moved rapidly along the silent, empty corridor until he reached the control panel for the university’s CCTV system. After snipping the cables, he closed the cover. At the front desk and in the monitoring room in the basement of the main administration building, the surveillance monitors turned blue.
Moving swiftly on to the stairwell, the intruder took the stairs three at a time. By the fourth floor he was out of breath and stopped for a moment, bent forward, hands on knees. Then he eased open the door into another narrow corridor. A sign on the wall announced he was in the Department of Plant Biotechnology, Queen Mary College.
A door with wire mesh over its window panel was locked. Beside it was a keypad. With latex-covered fingers he punched in the code for which he had paid hard cash earlier that day. There was a satisfying click and he eased the door inwards. A sallow glow emanated from overhead safety lights. He could just make out rows of steel benches, gas taps, sinks, racks of chemicals. Along one side of the large lab stood a set of floor-to-ceiling cupboards. Next to that a gas cabinet, its thickened glass door closed and locked. On the far side was a window on to the room beyond. Inside, hecould just see the outlines of many plants crammed into a tight space. Foliage pressed against the inside of the glass.
He was about to walk that way when he heard voices from the corridor beyond the lab. A square of massicot appeared at the door as someone flicked on the lights in the corridor. He ducked down out of sight at the end of a row of benches. Someone tried the door handle.
‘It’s locked,’ a voice said.
‘Good,’ came the reply. ‘Let’s check upstairs.’
He waited a few beats before straightening up, straining to listen. Then he walked slowly towards his goal. The door into the greenhouse was opened with the same code as for the lab door. He closed it carefully behind him.
It was stifling inside, the smell of damp, and rotting soil, almost overpowering. He paced slowly along the rows of plants, neatly bedded in evenly spaced pots. He avoided brushing against the leaves and only touched a plant with his gloved fingers when it was necessary in order to get by.
He had no interest in plants, otherwise he might have appreciated the wonderful colours in the greenhouse: the rich ruby reds, sunset shades of orange, the cheeriest yellows and sombre jungle greens. Instead, his mind was focused on one thing, his objective. Passing the end of the second row and scrutinising the third, he saw them at last, a pair of small unassuming plants at either end of the row. One had narrow, murky green
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