The Templar's Secret (The Templar Series) by Palov C.M

Author:Palov, C.M. [Palov, C.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: C.M. Palov
Published: 2013-11-17T00:00:00+00:00

38

Enough foot dragging. Just do it!

Worried that she might not get another chance, Anala slowly swung her right leg over the edge of the cot, her foot dangling a few inches above the floor. Holding her breath, she glanced at the guard, verifying that he was still asleep in his chair.

He was, his hands limply grasping a video game console.

Moving at an agonizingly slow speed – to prevent the bed frame from creaking in her wake – she adjusted her hips, next moving her left leg off the mattress.

For almost two days now she’d been staring at the overlooked piece of glass glittering benignly on the floor, obsessively fixating on how she might retrieve it. More importantly, she’d been scheming about what she would do once she had it in her possession. After yesterday’s little Q & A session, she had a very real fear that if she didn’t escape, she’d suffer a calamitous fate. As in ‘worse than’.

She had a valid reason for her fear: during her interrogation, the oddly-named G-Dog had informed her that she was being held for ransom. Not a monetary pay-off, mind you. No, instead, the ransom was an ancient gospel that had once been in the possession of a fourteenth-century Knights Templar. The likelihood of her mother meeting the kidnapper’s demand was bugger-all. Even if her biological father was a Templar scholar. It was a thought that generated an ambivalent surge of emotion, Anala still grappling with the disturbing bombshell.

Why the big secret? Why hadn’t her mother revealed the truth about her father? Didn’t she care that her dark secret might –

Don’t go there! Anala mentally chastised herself as she eased her hips off the cot. Stay focused on the task at hand.

Double-checking, she shot another glance at the guard, relieved to see that his blubbery mouth now hung wide open. God only knew what would happen if he suddenly awakened from his slack-jawed reveries. Her jaw still ached from the roundhouse punch he’d given her four days ago when he’d discovered her trying to escape through the window.

Refusing to contemplate the worst-case scenario – why dwell on the negative? – Anala placed a bare foot on the linoleum floor.

So far, so good.

Ever so carefully, she lifted her bum off the bed and stood upright.

Swaying slightly, she drew breath, pulling musty air through her nostrils to her lungs. Unfortunately, she wasn’t functioning at a hundred per cent physically. Given the lack of exercise and dreadful fare – a nauseating rotation of SpaghettiOs and cheese sandwiches – she was operating at about sixty per cent.

Hopefully, that would provide enough steam to get the job done.

Again, she longingly eyed the thick piece of glass. It was only eight feet away. Eight paltry steps. Sixteen in total from start to finish.

I can do this.

Determined to retrieve the object of her obsession, Anala took the first step – toe to heel – gently easing her weight as she shifted her hips. In that same instant, she heard the wooden chair squeak.

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