The Source - Michael Cordy [18]
A voice answered on the third ring. 'Yes?'
He stared at the larger boy in the photograph. 'Marco,' he said.
'Leo, thank God. I've been waiting—'
Torino's eyes moved to the file on the bed. 'Is your treatment over?'
'Yes.'
'Do you still want absolution?'
A sharp intake of breath. 'Yes.'
'You're prepared to do any penance for the Church?'
'Anything.'
'Good.' Torino told himself again that this was the right course of action. 'I think it's time the left hand of the Devil became the right hand of God.'
8
Six days later
It was almost midnight when Ross turned the Mercedes into the driveway of their Darien home. The long weekend in Vermont had been Lauren's idea, consolation for postponing their holiday and celebration of her pregnancy and the Voynich. He had been looking forward more than he'd realized to getting away from everything so the long weekend now seemed a poor substitute for the planned three weeks in the Far East.
As the car slowed, Lauren leant across to kiss his cheek. 'Thanks, Ross, I had a lovely time.'
'So did I. It could have been longer, though.' He flashed a lopsided smile. 'Say, about three weeks.'
She laughed. 'Stop trying to make me feel guilty. I know you're disappointed, but the insurance covered the cost. We haven't lost any money.'
'You know it's not about the money,' he said. 'This was planned months ago, and we haven't had a real holiday together for years.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'That's because you were always too busy with your work.'
'Touché.' It was ironic that when he had time on his hands Lauren had a deadline to meet. 'But you've been working on the manuscript for more than seven years. What difference will three weeks make?'
'All the difference between being the first to complete it and letting someone else get there ahead of me. I'm so close, but the last section isn't like the rest. It's more difficult.' As he parked she put her hand on his. 'I'll make a deal with you. I'll still be able to fly in two months and we'll take our holiday then, whether I've cracked the manuscript or not.'
He smiled at her, thinking how much he loved her. 'Sure. But by then I'll probably be up to my eyeballs in a new job.'
'Fine by me.' She placed his hand on her belly. 'Pretty soon we're going to have another mouth to feed.'
Ross got out of the car and pulled their bags from the back seat. He opened the front door, turned on the lights and followed Lauren into the hallway. 'I'm sorry for giving you a hard time. I guess I'm feeling—'
But she wasn't listening to him. She was looking up at the darkened landing. 'You heard that?' she whispered.
'What?' He put the bags down on the polished cedar floor and moved to the foot of the stairs. 'Where?'
'In my office. I thought I heard something.'
He hadn't. He walked quietly up the stairs.
She followed him to the top, put a hand on his arm. 'Why don't we just call nine one one?'
'Because it's probably nothing. Wait here. I'll check it out.'
He walked across the landing to the door on the left: the smallest bedroom of five, which Lauren used for her work. He had the study. He stood by the closed door and listened, but heard nothing. He relaxed, turned back to his wife and shook his head.
'Be careful,' she mouthed.
He smiled at her and she smiled back.
He turned the knob, opened the door and sensed that something was wrong. He heard Lauren hiss: 'Don't go in, Ross. I always lock the door. Someone must be in there.'
Then his world exploded.
A force slammed the door back on him, smashing into his face, throwing him backwards on to the landing, his head striking the balustrade. Blood clouded his vision and through it he saw a masked figure towering over him. A weaker man would have been knocked out, but Ross dragged himself up, turned to his wife, standing frozen at the head of the stairs, and yelled, 'Run, Lauren! Run!' The intruder lashed out with his heel, catching Ross hard in the temple.
Lauren ran, but