HIS FINGERS DRUMMED on the table, as though they were trying to type out his thoughts. Saul glanced toward George. The reporter was visibly distressed, caught in the crossfire between him and the editor-in-chief, racing against the clock to avoid getting shot down.
Let's see how you do on the test. Your future depends on this story... — he encouraged him silently.
In less than a week, he would be sitting at Mick's desk, and he intended to make changes in some departments. His thoughts drifted to Meggie.
She's already passed the test...
He checked his inbox again and found a newly arrived email with the subject line: Call me as soon as you can. Mikhail.
He never takes the initiative. What could have happened? — he wondered anxiously, picking up his phone and dialing the number of his contact at Scotland Yard.
The investigator returned his call a few seconds later.
"... I withheld a relevant piece of information during our last conversation, Saul. Besides the four fragments, a note written by the Earl of Essex survived the destruction of the evidence completely intact..."
— I hope you called to make up for that.
"... I'll do better. As you probably know, several items mysteriously disappeared from the British Museum..."
— They belonged to John Dee's collection — the journalist interrupted, intending to show that he already knew the story and that Mikhail could skip the preamble.
"... LaVey has lost control and is acting on his own. I have the report from one of our SY agents..."
Suspicion confirmed:
The bastard requested the curator's file and most likely kidnapped his son. He has endangered the organization and must be taken out of action.
— Wow! — Saul exclaimed, surprised by the message conveyed in the carefully disguised voice on the other end of the line.
"... Let's stick to the facts. LaVey is suspected of the British Museum robbery. He is also suspect number one — at least as far as we're concerned — in the ritual murders. Correct?"
— Precisely.
"... In that case, all we would need to do is uncover his identity to get to the evidence of his crimes, prove that your version of the story was true all along, and launch an internal investigation at SY to separate the wheat from the chaff..."
— I agree. Did anyone else have access to the message?
"... I hid it before the forensic technician examined the ashes in the trash and discovered the four readable fragments. It is incriminating evidence against some of my colleagues. I have no doubt it would have been destroyed before ever reaching headquarters..."
— Neither do I — the journalist agreed, shaking his head.
"... I decided to open a parallel investigation, Saul. First, I had a confidential conversation with the museum curator. He confirmed that his son had been kidnapped. The ransom was the collection pieces that, according to the official report, mysteriously disappeared from the museum..."
— Sensational, Mikhail.
"... I haven't even told you the best part yet. The curator convinced his son to give me an off-the-record statement about the kidnapper. The boy was terrified. He said the psychopath threatened to kill his sister if he opened his mouth and made me swear that I would keep the conversation absolutely secret..."
— And obviously, you're not going to honor that oath — Saul joked.
"... I've just forwarded you an email with an attachment. Open it..." — Mikhail instructed.
The journalist double-clicked the file. A police composite sketch filled his computer screen.
— It's him!
"... Just as I thought. You know him..."
— He threatened and assaulted the priest and spied on two of our meetings.
"... Anything else I should know, Saul?"
— His name is probably Drew, but he goes by LaVey...
"... Anything else?..."
— I'm only a reporter, Mikhail. You have far more effective methods of obtaining information about this man...
"... Want to know what I found, Saul?..." — he asked, immediately supplying the answer. — "... He doesn't exist in any record anywhere in the world..."
— What do you mean?
"... He can't be identified. It's as if he were a ghost, and I can't investigate ghosts..."
— I know where he'll be tomorrow night. I can help you get to him — the journalist revealed.
"... I need to learn more from you. We'll meet tomorrow morning at the agreed time and address..."
— By the way, Mikhail, I heard from a reliable source that our target is Baruch Hawkings's bastard son.
"... I'll look into it. See you soon..."
Saul placed the phone to the left of the keyboard. He no longer needed to convince the agent to join his risky plan to capture LaVey. The private investigation into the theft of John Dee's artifacts had turned Mikhail into the perfect partner for the job, and getting his hands on that psychopath had become his most personal mission.
It promised redemption and revenge...
— You'd call this divine providence, wouldn't you, Father? — he asked, staring at the drawn face of the real Ripper of London. — I never imagined that you...
THE TWO FRIENDS PLAYED TAG around the mansion at The Holme. Saul ran faster than LaVey.
— You can't catch me! — he shouted, turning around to check how far behind his friend was. — You can't catch me.
The brief distraction was enough for him to trip over a stone and crash to the ground. His knees and right elbow burned with pain. He opened his eyes and saw his friend crouching in front of him, concern written across his face.
— Are you all right, Saul?
— I think I hurt myself — he replied, his eyes filling with tears.
— I'll call someone to help.
— Help me get home.
Drew held out his hand and pulled him to his feet, but blood was running down both his legs.
— Lean on me. You're going to be all right — LaVey encouraged him, putting an arm around his friend's left side.
— I guess you caught me.
— That one doesn't count. When you're better, I'll show you I can run faster.
— I'd like to see that.
THE JOURNALIST CLOSED THE FILE containing the composite sketch of his childhood best friend and sighed. They had not played tag the day after the fall. In fact, they had never played around the mansion again.
Ever since the wave of murders began, they had resumed their childhood game, only now the roles were reversed. The journalist was chasing the psychopath and could never catch him. With every brutal crime, it was as though LaVey turned around and said to him with a mocking smile:
You can't catch me...
Saul believed he was only a few steps away from another fall.