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 |  Framed for a grisly crime, Jericho must find Atlantis, save the girl and clear his name. |
| Robert Fludd cleaned his glasses for the third time in twenty minutes. He was thankful for his warm fleece in the coolness of the developing dawn. He shuffled from foot to foot in the doorway and looked at his watch – 5.35 am – just three minutes since he had last checked. He hated waiting, especially in cold doorways. He glared at the car sitting outside Ward’s apartment block. ”It’s not your fault they arrived so early,” he muttered, “Ward doesn’t normally go jogging for another half hour. You were here ahead of schedule.” ”It doesn’t matter. We’ll be blamed if we don’t get inside,” he replied. ”Just wait. When they leave, you’ll have your opportunity.” ”But what if they bring a forensics team to search Ward’s flat?” ”Be patient. Wait and see what happens.” Fludd snorted in disgruntled acquiescence, the clouds of his breath spiralling upwards like dragon’s smoke. His conversations no longer seemed strange. It hadn’t always been that way, of course. He had hated when people had lied about Harry, saying that they couldn’t see him when he was stood next to Fludd during the trial. At least in the hospital, Harry had kept him company. Then Harry said that he had to hide for a while so that the doctors would let Robert out. Harry had hidden, as he had promised, but kept talking to Robert from out of thin air. That had been strange. But Fludd had got used to it now. Harry said it was for the best, anyway. Fludd was still unhappy about last night. As usual, he’d savoured the adrenaline rush when the old man saw the pistol and realised that he had no hope. He’d loved the feeling of strength when he dragged the wounded man across the room and the sense of power when he saw the man’s terror as he approached with the first knives. But he was robbed of his climax. The man’s agony was clear in his eyes as the large blade dug deep in to his flesh again and again, but Fludd hadn’t been able to revel in the sounds of that agony because of the tape across the man’s mouth. The temptation to remove the gag and savour the screams had been strong, but Harry heard the young couple coming up the stairs and said that safety had to come ahead of pleasure. ”It was funny when he threw up though,” Harry interrupted. ”Yes,” giggled Fludd, “The old fool nearly drowned in his own juices.” He remembered the trickle of vomit that had run out of the man’s nostril. ”Be quiet. Here they come!” Fludd shrunk back in to the shadows of the stone doorway. Coming in to sight was a tall, gangly man in a creased raincoat. The sodium streetlamp turned his hair and skin a sallow straw colour that sickened Fludd. The man walked to his blue Mondeo at the kerb before stopping to look up and down the length of the empty street. Robert kept perfectly still, even when the policeman looked directly toward him. He dared to breathe again only when the policeman’s gaze had moved on. Then Ward and the younger detective stepped outside, heading for the car. ”See? I told you to be patient. The flat’s empty now.” ”But where are they taking Ward?” Fludd gnawed at his bottom lip as the car drove off. “We should follow them to find out where they’re taking him.” ”Pull yourself together!” Fludd, chastened, let Harry continue. “You have to put the knives back now, before the police return. Then you can follow them.” Fludd nodded slowly. He pulled a palmtop computer out of his pocket. It was state-of-the-art and equipped with military grade encryption. ”Maybe we should tell…” ”No!” hissed Harry. Fludd flinched, expecting Harry to hit him. Except that Harry had never laid a finger on him, unlike everyone else. “Ward wasn’t handcuffed, so the police haven’t arrested him. I know where they may be going, so put the knives back and we’ll follow. If it turns out that he’s not there, you can make contact then. Agreed?” Fludd nodded eagerly. Relieved that he knew what to do, he stepped out of the doorway and headed towards Jericho’s building, humming tunelessly as he went. |
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