The Stone of Madness by Nick Baker

Author:Nick Baker [Baker, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781999976217
Publisher: Wessex OMFS Ltd
Published: 2018-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

On Frankl’s instruction, Lex had committed these words to memory, and re-reading them now merely confirmed he had found what he had come for. He looked fleetingly at his watch; three a.m., it read. He bundled up the manuscript, tucked it safely under his jumper and lowered the goggles over his eyes.

After further careful contortions and the use of an implement miraculously pilfered from beneath a rubber dam during a course of root canal treatment, Lex wriggled safely beyond the beams of infrared light. He donned the Gecko Gloves in anticipation of escape, but his first ascent of the wall ended in disaster when the adhesive gloves pulled several books from their shelves, causing him to topple ignominiously to the floor. He cursed as he struggled to separate a seemingly irreversibly bound copy of Plinchy’s Esoterica from the palm of a hand, but when finally free of the cursed book, he carefully confined his climb to the fixed wooden struts of a bookcase. After inching across the ceiling like a manifestation of Kafka, he reached the hatch and hauled himself into the attic. He scurried along the rafters and pushed a begoggled head through the carefully cut aperture in the sloping skylight, emerging like a mole from a tunnel. He doffed the goggles and stashed them carefully inside the rucksack. He slid across the roof, slipped over the parapet, and with his eyes firmly fixed on the wall, he set off towards terra firma.

Once safely returned to the ground, Lex retrieved his coat and slipped the book into a deep, inner pocket. Faint streaks of light were visible in the sky hinting at incipient daybreak, and after a pleasant stroll to the station, he even contemplated having time for breakfast before boarding the train. Lex smiled in a way that only someone who had just committed the perfect crime could. He swaggered self-assuredly through the gate and felt his elation soar from the misguided notion that, after all he had been through, nothing could now possibly go wrong.

Lex was a professional and not a person usually prone to overconfidence, but as he eased his way out of the shadows onto Bloemstraat, he missed the blur of movement that signalled he was no longer alone. Before he could react, a man jumped out in front of him brandishing a gun. The pistol flapped menacingly in the man’s trembling hands, but Lex did not doubt that it was levelled directly at him. At first, he did not recognise the man barring his way, but as his eyes accommodated to the dull neon light, the unmistakable face of Thjiis Ackerman took shape. Following this disturbing realisation, Lex recognised two other things at once. Firstly, Ackerman’s face carried the same ruddy complexion that had been apparent at their first meeting, undoubtedly a sign of alcohol intoxication. Secondly, the pistol waving awkwardly in Ackerman’s hand was a Luger P80 semi-automatic, and not a particularly good specimen at that.

‘You lied,’ cried Ackerman with the neglected pistol still shaking in his hand.

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