Read Online The Decrypter: Secret of the Lost Manuscript (Calla Cress Techno Thriller Series: Book 1) by Rose Sandy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rose Sandy
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fully-armed cops, in khaki green jackets and white headgear, obstructed the entrance, smoking strong cigarettes. They observed Calla pacing towards them and lifted their heads.
The older police officer held out a hand to stop her. He swerved menacingly towards her, questioning her approach. “ Was machen Sie hier ?”
“I’m here to see someone,” replied Calla in German.
“The museum closed hours ago.”
Calla approached fearlessly and faced him. “Can I speak to the inspector in charge? I may have some information that may help you?”
The younger looking cop glanced at his partner to see if he would comply.
“What information do you have?” retorted the older man.
“I’m sorry, but I can only share information with your superior,” she said.
He grimaced, eyeing her for several seconds as he stroked his frosted mustache. “Who are you?”
Calla churned words round in her mind. “I’m with the British Museum in London. I work with Allegra Driscoll and I believe she was here this morning.”
The police officer paused for a moment then raised his chin. “Can I see some papers?”
“Some identification?” clarified the younger cop.
Calla glanced from one cop to another and searched in her pocket producing her museum identity badge. She reached in her other pocket and fished out the pass Allegra had given her. “Look, here are my credentials. Is Allegra Driscoll here? I need to see her.”
The armed men studied her documents with austerity. They were obviously being cautious. After what seemed like several impending seconds, the older man pulled out his police radio and turned his back to her.
Calla heard him speak to an impatient voice. She peered past him, catching a glimpse of a tall, skinny man within the museum entrance. He stood with two other officers and museum officials and spoke into a police radio. Calla guessed he was the chief, although she failed to make out his face in the moderate light.
“Yes, she says she knows Frau Driscoll,” mumbled the cop.
The man within the building made his way outward and crossed towards them. The cop who’d questioned Calla handed her credentials to the approaching man of authority.
“I’ll take it from here,” he instructed.
The two police officers let Calla past the police line and drew away from the entrance.
A lump rose to her throat. Stay calm. You’re only looking for Allegra.
“I’m Raimund Eichel, the inspector in charge. Was kann ich für Sie tun? What’s your business here?” he said switching to English.
His direct question came without any affability. Calla supposed her German would be less problematic than his English, nevertheless she obliged. She felt like turning back, abandoning the whole plan. Even then, she stood with confidence and buoyantly extended a hand. “Calla Cress von London.”
With fervent eyes on her, Eichel accepted her handshake. His forceful grip nearly jolted her arm socket.
She managed a weak smile. “I’m looking for my friend, Allegra Driscoll. We had an appointment to meet here yesterday. I’m part of her delegation.”
Eichel had been carefully studying her credentials as she spoke. He shot her a quizzical look. “You know Allegra Driscoll?” he said, more as a statement than a question.
“Yes.”
Eichel stepped back. He tilted his head towards the doors. “Come this way.”
She obliged, grateful to escape the frigid night. For a day that had been tremendously sun-drenched, the clear star-speckled sky had invited an unforgiving cold front.
Eichel led her through the museum entrance. Even with the dim lights, Calla could not have prepared for the grand exhibitions ahead of her walk.
The Ishtar Gate, about a minute into their stroll, commanded an audience with its majestic blue and gold tiles depicting lions and aurochs, the ancestral forms of domestic cattle. Ordered for construction
The older police officer held out a hand to stop her. He swerved menacingly towards her, questioning her approach. “ Was machen Sie hier ?”
“I’m here to see someone,” replied Calla in German.
“The museum closed hours ago.”
Calla approached fearlessly and faced him. “Can I speak to the inspector in charge? I may have some information that may help you?”
The younger looking cop glanced at his partner to see if he would comply.
“What information do you have?” retorted the older man.
“I’m sorry, but I can only share information with your superior,” she said.
He grimaced, eyeing her for several seconds as he stroked his frosted mustache. “Who are you?”
Calla churned words round in her mind. “I’m with the British Museum in London. I work with Allegra Driscoll and I believe she was here this morning.”
The police officer paused for a moment then raised his chin. “Can I see some papers?”
“Some identification?” clarified the younger cop.
Calla glanced from one cop to another and searched in her pocket producing her museum identity badge. She reached in her other pocket and fished out the pass Allegra had given her. “Look, here are my credentials. Is Allegra Driscoll here? I need to see her.”
The armed men studied her documents with austerity. They were obviously being cautious. After what seemed like several impending seconds, the older man pulled out his police radio and turned his back to her.
Calla heard him speak to an impatient voice. She peered past him, catching a glimpse of a tall, skinny man within the museum entrance. He stood with two other officers and museum officials and spoke into a police radio. Calla guessed he was the chief, although she failed to make out his face in the moderate light.
“Yes, she says she knows Frau Driscoll,” mumbled the cop.
The man within the building made his way outward and crossed towards them. The cop who’d questioned Calla handed her credentials to the approaching man of authority.
“I’ll take it from here,” he instructed.
The two police officers let Calla past the police line and drew away from the entrance.
A lump rose to her throat. Stay calm. You’re only looking for Allegra.
“I’m Raimund Eichel, the inspector in charge. Was kann ich für Sie tun? What’s your business here?” he said switching to English.
His direct question came without any affability. Calla supposed her German would be less problematic than his English, nevertheless she obliged. She felt like turning back, abandoning the whole plan. Even then, she stood with confidence and buoyantly extended a hand. “Calla Cress von London.”
With fervent eyes on her, Eichel accepted her handshake. His forceful grip nearly jolted her arm socket.
She managed a weak smile. “I’m looking for my friend, Allegra Driscoll. We had an appointment to meet here yesterday. I’m part of her delegation.”
Eichel had been carefully studying her credentials as she spoke. He shot her a quizzical look. “You know Allegra Driscoll?” he said, more as a statement than a question.
“Yes.”
Eichel stepped back. He tilted his head towards the doors. “Come this way.”
She obliged, grateful to escape the frigid night. For a day that had been tremendously sun-drenched, the clear star-speckled sky had invited an unforgiving cold front.
Eichel led her through the museum entrance. Even with the dim lights, Calla could not have prepared for the grand exhibitions ahead of her walk.
The Ishtar Gate, about a minute into their stroll, commanded an audience with its majestic blue and gold tiles depicting lions and aurochs, the ancestral forms of domestic cattle. Ordered for construction
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