Michael White - Equinox

Laura was about to say something, but Lightman raised his hand. 'I'm sure what you have to say is very important, Laura my dear, but please, let me just finish what I was starting to explain. I think you'll consider it of value. You see, the two of you' — he glanced briefly at Philip — 'will never again see the light of day. It is impossible to retrace your steps through the tunnels of the Guardians and there is only one other way out. That is the route that takes us from here to the library, and only I have the map.' He tapped his breast.

'The route created by John Milliner,' said Laura.

'My predecessor in more ways than one.'

Laura looked puzzled.

'Ah, another piece of the jigsaw puzzle that the two of you missed,' Lightman said. 'John Milliner was not just a Professor of Medicine at the University, he was also Chief Librarian. The Chief Librarians of the Bodleian have been leaders of my order, the Order of the Black Sphinx, for at least a dozen generations. Each of us has added something to the vast network of tunnels beneath the library. Building work stopped a long, long time ago, but we have each added decorations or some other refinement. My contribution has been this ingenious refrigeration unit.'

'And I suppose he's been your executioner.' Laura nodded towards Bridges.

'Oh no, my clever Laura,' Lightman said. 'I'm afraid that there you are quite wrong. Malcolm here has many talents, but he is not your killer. That is the responsibility of another young colleague. He has used manyaliases over the years, but the university authorities knew him as Julius Spenser. Officially, he's a high-flying psychologist who is now working in America. At least, that's what the police know of him. I'm afraid poor old DCI Monroe has been less than inspired in his efforts of late. . But as it happens, dear girl, there is something I would like to explain about my colleague.'

Lightman took a step back and pulled a revolver from under his robe. Pointing it directly at Bridges, he said coldly: 'Malcolm, maybe you could tell us something about your role in all this.'

The room was as still and silent as a mausoleum. Situated as they were, some hundred feet beneath the Bodleian Library, all the usual sounds of the everyday world were excluded: the rumble of traffic, the noise of people — all these things had been left on the surface. The four of them could have been transported back in time. Ignoring Lightman's refrigeration unit, they might have been standing in this room when Milliner was surveying it for the first time, or when Newton was studying an entirely different set of human organs.

Bridges's eyes now widened in alarm. He put his hands up slowly and deliberately, looking from the old man's face to the gun and back again. Laura could see beads of sweat on his forehead.

'What?' he said, shaking his head slightly. 'What exactly. .?'

'Well, naturally, you would not like to admit. .'

Philip was about to interrupt when Lightman glared at him. 'This has nothing to do with you, Mr Bainbridge.' He gestured at Bridges with the gun. 'Well?'

'I don't. .'

'Malcolm, Malcolm,' Lightman sighed and shook his head. 'Please don't waste my time. Let's start at the beginning, shall we? I'll help you. You see, I know very much more about you than you might imagine. I have many, many useful contacts in all sorts of interesting places. I know, for example, that you were present at the scene when my colleague. . shall we call him Julius? Yes, when Julius was harvesting the brain. The police found a tiny sample of your blood in the girl's house. Then two weeks ago you were caught on film, searching through my study at home. I have records of the most incriminating communications between you and your employers.'

Bridges seemed suddenly transformed. Gone was the pallid academic, the vampiric accessory to a series of horrendous crimes. He suddenly looked more ordinary. 'You know who I work for,' he said, fixing Lightman with his stare. 'Your taxes pay my salary. And if you really have tapped my communications, which I actually rather doubt, you'll know they end up at Millbank. I was at the dead girl's house hoping to get in Spenser's way. Unfortunately, I was too late to save her life — I saw him slice her open. I'm here now to prevent you from finishing your task.'

Lightman gave him a brief, icy smile. But Laura could sense that some of the sheen had gone from his seemingly impervious confidence.

'Ah, the self-assurance of youth,' he said. 'How I admire it so. But I think you have left things a little too late, dear boy. Of course you could not have done much to stop us earlier — there was nothing to go on, was there? Julius is very thorough. What would your superiors have thought if you had gone to them with some cock-and-bull story where the Chief Librarian, who has mysteriously disappeared, is in fact the head of an occult group seeking to employ the services of the Dark Lord in some nefarious ritual? As we speak, Julius is preparing to harvest the final item.'

Bridges said nothing and slowly lowered his hands.

'Don't do that. I think you should keep them there,' Lightman snapped, gesturing with the gun again. Bridges did as he was told. 'Now,' Lightman added and glanced quickly at Laura and Philip, 'you may think I'm a frail old man, but please do not entertain any thoughts of trying to overpower me. I am a superb marksman and a great deal more agile than I might appear.' He took a deep breath. 'I would very much like all three of you to sit down over here, please.' He waved the gun in the direction of the pentagram.

'James, don't you think this has gone far enough?' Laura said.

'You don't really understand, do you, Laura?' Lightman replied. 'This is not a game. This is deadly serious. I have spent the last ten years of my life planning this most delicate process, and tonight will be the climax and the fulfilment of that work. You cannot be allowed to interfere. Now, please, do as I ask.' He put a hand to Laura's shoulder to guide her across the room. But she shrugged him off angrily.

'I can't believe this of you,' she hissed.

Philip took her arm and Lightman herded the three of them to the platform where the pentagram stood. On the floor lay a toolbox. Lightman opened the lid. Inside lay a wrench, some screwdrivers, an assortment of spanners, nuts and bolts, and a roll of duct * tape. He picked up the tape and handed it to Laura.

'Tie their wrists to the pentagram. You, sit down, over there,' he said to the two men. He held the gun to Bridges's back, pushing it just hard enough for him to feel it between his shoulder blades.

Philip slipped off his rucksack and laid it close by before lowering himself to the stone floor. Lightman walked around the back of the pentagram, keeping his revolver trained on them. He kicked Philip's bag across the floor and watched as Laura crouched down and wound the tape around Philip's wrists. He checked it as she moved on to do the same to Bridges.

'Sit down, please, Laura,' he said when she was done. He then taped her wrists to the pentagram.

'Now, I have much to do.' Lightman looked from face to face. Laura turned away in disgust.

'You really are wasting your time, you know' Bridges's voice was quiet but authoritative.

'Don't make me angry, Malcolm,' Lightman snapped. 'Although you are going to die anyway, there are ways to die that you would not like to contemplate, I assure you.'

'The inscription is a fake.'

'Is it, now?'

'Charlie Tucker learned what you were trying to achieve and altered the decoded inscription. He was obviously a believer. You killed him too soon, Professor.'

Lightman stared at Bridges for a moment. When he eventually spoke his voice was strangely subdued. 'I didn't have Tucker killed.'

'Well, whoever did take out Charlie Tucker has left you with a useless inscription that wouldn't conjure up a pixie, let alone Mephistopheles.'