Bestselling Conspiracy Thriller Trilogy: Sanctus, The Key, The Tower. Simon Toyne

      Moving on through, he found himself in the brightly lit chemical fug of the pool area. He squinted at the swimmer, hoping it was her; saw the short black hair and police issue swimsuit he hadn’t given her, knew it was not. He spotted the fire exit and felt his throat go dry. He jogged towards it. The moment he pushed it open and the alarm sounded he realized what had happened.

      Outside, the street was teeming in both directions; people in suits, tourists in casual leisurewear. He searched amongst them for a dark blue, police-issue sweat-top. He saw nothing. The door swung shut behind him and the alarm stopped shrieking. His phone started vibrating in his hand and he glanced down at it, anxious in case it was Arkadian calling for an update. The number was withheld.

      ‘Hello?’

      A white transit pulled up beside him.

      ‘Hello,’ the driver replied.

      79

      Liv threaded her way through the crowds. She had no idea where she was heading but knew she had to stay out of sight and put as much distance between herself and the district building as possible while she got her head together. She pulled the hood of her new sweat-top over her wet hair and fell in step with a group of women, staying close enough for it to look like she was with them. At this time of day most people on the streets were tourists. Her clothes would have stood out a mile bobbing along in a river of suits and she hadn’t seen many blonde locals.

      Street sellers energetically offered their wares to the passing trade, mostly ethnic copper trinkets and rolled-up rugs, and ahead of her a newsstand rose up in the middle of the pavement, parting the flow of people like an island in a stream. Liv glanced at the front pages as she drifted past; every one carried a picture of her brother. She felt the emotion rise up inside her again, but not grief now – more anger. There were too many question marks surrounding his death to waste any more time trying to solve word puzzles. She felt partly responsible for setting her brother on his tragic course, but something else had driven him to take his own life, and she owed it to him to find out what.

      She looked up and saw the Citadel soaring above the bobbing heads of the tourists, everyone moving slowly towards it, pulled by its gravity like leaves towards a whirlpool. She felt drawn too, for entirely different reasons, but for now it would have to wait. It cost twenty lira to enter the old town, she’d read it in the guidebook, and at the moment all she had was a few dollars to her name.

      She took her cell phone from her pocket, opened her last text message and punched call-back.

      The van eased its way down the street. Sulley sat by the door, next to the guy who was sweating like it was mid-summer. The big guy with the patchy beard drove. All three watched the street in silence.

      Sulley hadn’t wanted to get in with them. Selling information was one thing, being directly involved in what was obviously going to be a kidnapping was way off the scale. He couldn’t be doing this. It was criminal, for God’s sake. It was jeopardizing everything. But the big man with the melted face had been insistent. And because Sulley didn’t want to stand outside the district building having a lengthy conversation, he’d got in.

      He looked out of the window scanning the crowds for a flash of the girl’s blonde hair or the white lettering on the dark blue sweat-top, hoping he wouldn’t see either. Back at the station he’d catch heat for losing her, but that kind of heat he could handle. It would be a whole lot better than finding her with these guys.

      ‘Got her!’ The sweaty guy in the middle of the bench seat angled the screen of the finder towards the driver. He studied it for a beat then looked ahead to where the road curved left and a wide paved area stretched beyond a barrier of concrete bollards; a no-car zone where the antiquated buildings had been hollowed out and turned into chain stores. It was packed with people. ‘She’s in there,’ he said.

      Sulley scanned the area as the van drew nearer. Saw a group of tourists walking away from them. One was wearing a dark blue sweat-top. The crowd parted slightly just before they disappeared behind a newsstand and he glimpsed POLICE printed on the back of it.

      The driver saw it too. ‘We’ll drive round to the other end, where it rejoins the road.’ He stopped by the kerb. ‘Go get her.’

      Sulley felt a cold panic rise up inside him.

      ‘You lost her in the first place,’ the driver said. ‘She’s less likely to run from you.’

      Sulley opened and closed his mouth like a fish as his eyes flicked between the driver’s cold blue gaze and the puckered burn scar on his cheek. He wasn’t the kind of guy you could argue with, so he didn’t try. He opened the door, slipped out on to the pavement, and headed to where he’d last seen the girl.

      80

      The phone clicked in Liv’s ear.

      ‘Hello?’

      ‘You sent me a warning,’ Liv said. ‘Who are you?’

      There was the briefest of pauses. Ordinarily she wouldn’t have noticed it; now it made her instantly suspicious.

      ‘A friend,’ the woman replied. ‘Where are you now?’

      Liv continued to drift with the tourist tide, felt the comforting press of other ordinary, straightforward human beings around her. ‘Why would I tell you that?’

      ‘Because we can protect you. Because there are people looking for you right now. People who want to silence you. Liv, there’s no easy way of saying this. These people want to kill you …’

      Liv hesitated, somehow more unsettled by the sudden intimacy of the woman using her name than by the announcement that someone wanted her dead.

      ‘Who wants to kill me?’

      ‘Ruthless, formidable people. They want to silence you because they think your brother shared knowledge with you; knowledge that no one is supposed to have.’

      Liv glanced down at the letters scrawled across the newspaper in her hand. ‘I don’t know anything,’ she said.

      ‘It doesn’t matter to them. If they think you know something, that’s enough. They risked taking you at the airport. They also stole your brother’s body because of it and they’ll keep looking for you until they find you. They don’t take chances.’ The woman let the statement hang in the air for a beat before continuing in a softer tone. ‘If you tell me where you are, I can send someone to bring you to a safe place. The same man I sent to protect you last night.’

      ‘Gabriel?’

      ‘Yes,’ Kathryn replied. ‘He’s with us. He was sent to look out for you. He did look out for you. Tell me where you are and I’ll send him to you.’

      Liv wanted to trust her, but she needed time to think before she could allow herself to trust anyone else right now. Apart from the borrowed clothes on her back, all she had was her few dollars in change, a phone that was about to run out of battery, and yesterday’s copy of a local newspaper. She looked at it now. Saw her brother’s face staring out at her from a halo of scrawled letters and symbols. Realized something. Twisted the paper round and read the small print on the back page.

      ‘I’ll call you back,’ she said.

      Sulley moved past the newsstand.

      The girl was less than fifty feet in front of him. He jostled through the slow-moving crowd, gradually closing the gap between them, still not quite sure what he was going to do when he got to her. He thought about simply turning round and making his way back to the district building. But if he did, the guy in the van could rat him out; an anonymous tip giving the name of the person who’d been leaking information with copies of the files as proof. He’d been careful to cover his tracks – but even so. If they could link the monk’s disappearance with him, he’d be looking at some heavy shit: compromising an ongoing investigation, perverting the course