Read Online The Forbidden Temple by Patrick Woodhead - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patrick Woodhead
Tags: adventure
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that it remains secret. We need you to find the boy. That is all.’
‘Find?’ replied Zhu in a tone of mild surprise, hands still clasped behind his back.
The Director looked down at his desk, averting his eyes for the first time. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.
‘Kill,’ he said simply.
Zhu’s lips curled slightly into a smile.
‘I’ll be back within a month.’
Chapter 11
TOSSING HIS CAR keys into the empty fruit bowl, Luca pulled some dirty clothes off the bed and lay down. He stared up at the ceiling and breathed out, attempting to exhale all the staleness he’d felt since first walking into his father’s office.
He had left the building almost immediately after their conversation, shaking his head as he had gathered up the scattered papers from the floor. As he walked out of the lift a small group of colleagues were standing at the entrance, clutching take-away cups of coffee and shaking their umbrellas. Luca had dredged up a smile as they clapped him on the back and asked him about the trip. Then, pleading a bad headache, he’d escaped to his car.
Now he exhaled again, feeling the tension slowly seep out of him. He glanced across his small flat towards the tiny open-plan kitchen in the corner. By the cluttered sink was a huge stack of mail. He had scanned through it all when he first got back, looking for any handwritten envelopes. The rest, he knew, would just be an assortment of bills or endless offers for broadband or the latest mobile phone.
Christ, there was just so much of it.
They had only been away five weeks. Five weeks. Such a brief amount of time, yet the rest of the world had been churning away at such a pace it made him feel he had been away for years. At some point today he should file it all away, write letters, send cheques.
Raising himself off the bed, Luca walked over to the kitchen and stood by the mail. Then, with a sudden angry movement, he gathered up all the envelopes in both hands and rammed them into the lowest kitchen drawer.
Screw it. It could wait some more.
Glancing at his watch, he took a bottle of Coke out of the fridge and levered the top off using the sideboard. Taking a few gulps he then sat down to make some work calls. For a couple of hours he worked steadily through the emails and phone messages, hating the sound of his own voice as he grovelled to the string of customers he had neglected.
He felt so tired, so drained of energy, yet it was only midday and he’d done nothing more strenuous than travel a few miles up and down a motorway in a car. Out in the mountains, he could climb for hours on huge vertical pitches, swinging his axe in again and again. Then, after no more than a few hours’ sleep, he could do it all again, day after day, even at high altitude. But here he felt perpetually out of breath: choking on the dense, petrol-fumed air, jolted by the barging shoulders of commuters on the streets. It made him feel like an old man.
As he worked his eyes would occasionally flicker over to the stack of papers lying by the side of his bed in the adjacent room. Most of them were photocopies from the library book that had mentioned that ring of mountains. At the bottom, larger than the rest, was the folded satellite map that Jack had given him. He had looked at it several times over the last few days, and each time he did, his thoughts went straight to Bill.
He should ring his friend. Get back in contact. They had already let this argument fester for too long, and besides, he couldn’t feel any worse than he did right now.
Luca was just about to pick up the phone again when a text came through. It was from Jack Milton, asking if a package had arrived.
After dialling his uncle’s number and resting the phone under hisear, Luca strode over to the kitchen drawer and sifted through the contents. Nothing. As the phone continued ringing, he opened the front door of his flat and went into the communal hall to look through today’s
‘Find?’ replied Zhu in a tone of mild surprise, hands still clasped behind his back.
The Director looked down at his desk, averting his eyes for the first time. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.
‘Kill,’ he said simply.
Zhu’s lips curled slightly into a smile.
‘I’ll be back within a month.’
Chapter 11
TOSSING HIS CAR keys into the empty fruit bowl, Luca pulled some dirty clothes off the bed and lay down. He stared up at the ceiling and breathed out, attempting to exhale all the staleness he’d felt since first walking into his father’s office.
He had left the building almost immediately after their conversation, shaking his head as he had gathered up the scattered papers from the floor. As he walked out of the lift a small group of colleagues were standing at the entrance, clutching take-away cups of coffee and shaking their umbrellas. Luca had dredged up a smile as they clapped him on the back and asked him about the trip. Then, pleading a bad headache, he’d escaped to his car.
Now he exhaled again, feeling the tension slowly seep out of him. He glanced across his small flat towards the tiny open-plan kitchen in the corner. By the cluttered sink was a huge stack of mail. He had scanned through it all when he first got back, looking for any handwritten envelopes. The rest, he knew, would just be an assortment of bills or endless offers for broadband or the latest mobile phone.
Christ, there was just so much of it.
They had only been away five weeks. Five weeks. Such a brief amount of time, yet the rest of the world had been churning away at such a pace it made him feel he had been away for years. At some point today he should file it all away, write letters, send cheques.
Raising himself off the bed, Luca walked over to the kitchen and stood by the mail. Then, with a sudden angry movement, he gathered up all the envelopes in both hands and rammed them into the lowest kitchen drawer.
Screw it. It could wait some more.
Glancing at his watch, he took a bottle of Coke out of the fridge and levered the top off using the sideboard. Taking a few gulps he then sat down to make some work calls. For a couple of hours he worked steadily through the emails and phone messages, hating the sound of his own voice as he grovelled to the string of customers he had neglected.
He felt so tired, so drained of energy, yet it was only midday and he’d done nothing more strenuous than travel a few miles up and down a motorway in a car. Out in the mountains, he could climb for hours on huge vertical pitches, swinging his axe in again and again. Then, after no more than a few hours’ sleep, he could do it all again, day after day, even at high altitude. But here he felt perpetually out of breath: choking on the dense, petrol-fumed air, jolted by the barging shoulders of commuters on the streets. It made him feel like an old man.
As he worked his eyes would occasionally flicker over to the stack of papers lying by the side of his bed in the adjacent room. Most of them were photocopies from the library book that had mentioned that ring of mountains. At the bottom, larger than the rest, was the folded satellite map that Jack had given him. He had looked at it several times over the last few days, and each time he did, his thoughts went straight to Bill.
He should ring his friend. Get back in contact. They had already let this argument fester for too long, and besides, he couldn’t feel any worse than he did right now.
Luca was just about to pick up the phone again when a text came through. It was from Jack Milton, asking if a package had arrived.
After dialling his uncle’s number and resting the phone under hisear, Luca strode over to the kitchen drawer and sifted through the contents. Nothing. As the phone continued ringing, he opened the front door of his flat and went into the communal hall to look through today’s
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