Scaderstone by Michael Campling

Author:Michael Campling [Campling, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shadowstone Books
Published: 2016-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

2021

IN A NON-DESCRIPT SEMI-DETACHED HOUSE in a small market town in the south-east of England, a slim, grey-haired man sat bolt upright in his chair, a remote control in his hand. He stared at the TV screen and pressed the rewind button on the remote then let the program play for a moment before repeating the process, over and over again. “There you are,” he whispered. “I’ve found you at last.”

He fiddled with the remote control, hunting for the pause button, then he pressed it, freezing the frame. He stood up slowly and moved closer to the screen. “And you, you little bitch,” he hissed. “I should have known you’d be involved.”

He reached out to touch the screen, running his hand along the outline of Cally’s hair. “But you won’t get away from me. Not this time.”

He took a deep breath, felt it rattling in his chest, then he put his hand to his mouth, suppressing a cough. The two and a half years he’d spent confined in a safe house had not been kind to his health. A damp, unheated room, a poor diet, and barely enough exercise: all had taken their toll. And even though he’d been free for several months, he still struggled for breath if he overexerted himself.

He moved slowly back to his chair and lowered himself onto the worn leather seat, all the while keeping his eyes on the screen. He fumbled with the remote and advanced the picture slowly, waiting for the moment when the camera would zoom in.

He froze the picture, just in time, then he sat in silence for a full minute, drinking in the sight of the object he’d yearned for; the very thing that had occupied his mind every day for the last three years.

The time has come, he thought. I’d almost given up hope. He shook his head slowly. Almost, but not quite. He’d been too strong for MI5’s bully boys to break. He’d fooled them—pretended to play along with their mind games—but he’d kept a cold spark of determination alive in his heart. And now he knew that his faith had been worthwhile; finally, his victory was at hand. He was to have his reward.

He let out a long sigh. The amulet was just as wonderful as the one he’d taken from Seaton. The pattern was identical, and every delicate curling line was perfect. Every part of its surface was smooth, glistening, and unblemished.

After a while, when he’d seen enough, he pressed the play button and allowed the programme to run, making a mental note of any significant details. “Grand-Pressigny,” he murmured, “that sounds familiar.” He picked up his iPad from the small table by his chair and began his research.

His mind was as sharp as ever, and it only took him a moment to establish the location of the museum. Then he scanned the online map, checking the surrounding area, scrutinising every hill. And there it was. “Of course,” he said. “The stone is there—so close to Grand-Pressigny.

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