Read Online The God of the Hive by Laurie R. King - Free Book Online Page A

learnt of it yesterday. Her name was Yolanda, a Chinese woman from Shanghai. I never met her in life, but her first husband, from whom she had parted before she met Damian, turned out to be a madman convinced that human sacrifice performed at key places and auspicious times would transfer the psychic energies of his victims into him. He killed Yolanda and at least three other innocents. It was his bullet you retrieved.”
    “‘Psychic energies’?” He felt her gaze boring against the side of his head. “You’re joking.”
    “Would that I were.”
    “He planned to make himself into …”
    “A sort of Gnostic Übermensch , I suppose.”
    Either she understood the reference to Nietzsche, or she was too distracted to hear it. “And the police find this difficult to believe?”
    He glanced at her, surprised not by sarcasm, but by the lack of it. Most people of his acquaintance would cavil at the reasoning of the mad: Dr Henning spurned the distraction to grasp the essentials. Admirable woman.
    “They may reach the same conclusion eventually; however, I was disinclined to hand Damian over to them until they did so. As I said, his reaction to being enclosed is extreme.”
    “What do you intend to do?”
    “Were the wind less assertive, I’d have put in along the coast of England, found a safe haven for Damian, and made my way to London. Now, I shall have to shelter him in Europe and make a more circuitous way home.”
    She spotted a sturdy basket that had come to rest beside the capstan, and upended it, sitting with her face turned towards the long-vanished Scotland. “He says he’s only known you a short while.”
    “We met briefly in the summer of 1919. After that, he went to Shanghai. I lost sight of him until he appeared on my terrace in Sussex, nineteen days ago.”
    “And in that time his wife died at the hands of a crackpot, and you solved the case, then uncovered several other deaths, and eventually tracked the murderer to far distant Orkney, where Mr Adler was wounded. And this mad religious leader was killed.”
    “An adequate précis, yes.”
    “You killed the man?”
    “A gun went off; he died.”
    “And yet you say that you have committed no crime.”
    “Homicide in defence of self or family is not a crime. My son saved my life.”
    She blinked, not having expected that her patient was the man with the gun. After a minute, she asked, “The man was about to kill you?”
    “Damian was his intended sacrifice, to coincide with yesterday’s solar eclipse over the sixty-fifth latitude. I intervened; there was a struggle.”
    “Well,” she said. “You’ve certainly had a busy three weeks.”
    “My wife did much of the work.”
    “Your wife.” The flat syllables indicated that Damian had neglected this part of the tale.
    “She read theology at Oxford.”
    “Of course she did.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Nothing. How do you intend to get the police to listen to you? Or will Mr Adler be forever in hiding?”
    “That would not do at all. I have resources, and they will listen. However, I need to reach them first, without attracting police attention.”
    “Hmm. And may I ask, where is Mr Adler’s daughter? He’d got as far as the confrontation on Friday night before exhaustion took him.”
    “The child is with my wife.”
    “Where?”
    “Orkney, when last I saw them.”
    “Mrs Holmes was on Orkney as well?”
    “She goes by the name Russell, but yes, she was there. Damian’s memories of the incident at the Stones may be uncertain, but she and I were both present. However, with Damian injured, we could not risk having the child to slow us down. So we split up, and Russell and Estelle remained behind.”
    “You left your wife and a child to explain to the police about a dead madman?”
    “I should be astonished if Russell was still there when the police arrived.”
    “She, too, is evading the police?”
    “Dr Henning, you heard me say that all three of us have warrants out