Anthony Horowitz - Necropolis

“I did not know these things,” Ramon exclaimed. “I was innocent. My job was to work only on the text, to unlock its secrets and I spent many, many hours in his office and also at his home in Ica. The diary was never allowed to leave his side. He made it clear to me from the start that it was the most precious thing to him in the world. And as I read it, as I began to study it, I realized why. It told this extraordinary history… the Old Ones, a battle many thousands of years ago and a gate that could be unlocked by the stars.” He lowered his head.

“I know that I am responsible for what happened last June. I did the work that I was paid to do and I helped Salamanda to open the gate. I have allowed a terrible thing to happen and it has been on my conscience ever since.” He twisted on the sofa, urging them to believe him. “I am not a bad man. I am a Catholic. I go to Church. I believe in heaven and hell. And I have been thinking… what can I do to make amends for what I have done? What can I do to undo the damage that I have caused? And I knew, finally, that I must find you. So I came.”

“How did you know where we were?” Jamie asked.

“Senor Salamanda often mentioned the name of Professor Chambers. I guessed that you would be with her and I have brought you something. You will not shoot me if I reach into my bag?”

He glanced at the professor, then reached beside him. He took out an old, leather-bound book and laid it on the table. Nobody in the room said anything. But they all knew what it was. It was hard to believe that it was actually there, in front of them. The cover was dark brown with a few faint tracings of gold, tied with a cord. The edges of the pages were rough and uneven. Matt recognized it at once. It contained everything they needed to know about the Old Ones. It might even describe how they could be defeated.

“It is the diary of the mad monk,” Ramon said.

And it was. The small, square book sitting there in the middle of the table was, supposedly, the only copy in the world. There was no limit to how many secrets it might contain, how valuable it might be.

“How did you get it?” Richard demanded.

“I stole it!” Ramon took out a handkerchief and wiped it across his forehead. “I thought it would be impossible but in fact it was easy. You see, I still had my electronic pass-key to the office of Salamanda News International in Lima. And I had this crazy idea. Maybe the key had not been cancelled. Senor Salamanda was dead but surely they had forgotten about me. Two days ago I returned to the office. Nobody saw me, although by now they will know that it is gone. I took it from his desk and hurried away into the night. It is possible that the cameras will have identified me and that they will be searching for me even now.”

Richard was still suspicious. “What do you want from us?” he asked. “Do you want us to pay you?”

Ramon shook his head. “Can you not understand me?” he exclaimed. He clasped his hands in front of him. “I am twenty-eight years old. Next year I hope to be married. When I was given this work by Senor Salamanda, I knew nothing. It was just, for me, a job.

He pushed the diary away.

“Here! You can have it without payment. It is yours. I brought it to you only because I thought you might make use of it in this great…” He searched for the word in English. “…lucha. Struggle. I want nothing from you. I am sorry that I came.”

There was a pause. Matt knew that he had just been given a fantastic prize. The diary might explain the dreamworld. It might tell them the history of the twenty-five doorways that stood in so many different countries. Who had built them, and when? It might even help them work out what they were supposed to do when the five of them finally met in London. Ramon was right. Salamanda had been prepared to kill to get his hands on the diary and now it had just been handed to them, out of the blue.

Jamie leaned forward and picked it up. He unwound the cord and the diary opened in his hands. He examined the page in front of him. It was covered in handwriting which would have been almost unreadable even if it hadn’t been in Spanish. There were tiny diagrams in the margins. Suddenly his eyes lit up. He pointed to a single word.

“Sapling,” he said. “That was my name when I went back in time. Sapling was killed and I took his place.”

The diary was real. Matt had no doubt of it. But what about the man who had brought it to them? He looked genuine, but Richard had been expecting some sort of trap and this could well be it. Suddenly Matt had an idea. There was an easy way to find out. “Jamie,” he said. “Ask him if he’s telling the truth.”

Jamie understood at once. But before he could act, Scott stood up. “I’ll do it,” he said.

Scott walked forward and stopped in front of the visitor. He looked Ramon straight in the eyes. “Are you telling the truth?” he demanded.

“On my mother’s grave,” Ramon replied, crossing himself and then kissing his thumb. “I’m only here because it is the right thing to do. Because I want to help.”

Scott concentrated. This was his power, the ability that had kept audiences entertained for the many months when he was performing in Reno. They had thought it was a trick but in fact it was real. He could read minds.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite as easy as that sounded. It wasn’t like throwing a switch. Scott and Jamie had a connection with each other. When they were in the same room or even a short distance away, they could communicate with each other just by thinking. But when it came to other people, strangers like Ramon, what they saw was confused, chaotic. Nothing was ever black and white.

Perhaps a minute passed. Then Scott nodded. “He’s telling the truth,” he said.

“I promise you…” Ramon knew that he had been tested in some way. The words came pouring out. “I don’t care if you don’t trust me. I’ll leave you with the diary. I’ll go. I have no other reason to be here.”

“You said it wasn’t safe for you outside,” Richard said. “Were you followed?”

Ramon shook his head and swallowed nervously. “I don’t think so. After I had taken the diary, I hid in Lima. I wanted to see if the police would come. Then, when nothing happened, I took a tourist bus to Paracas. I thought it was less likely that I would be noticed that way. By now they will know that the diary is missing. They will know that I have taken it. And although Salamanda is gone, there are people in his organization who will still wish to continue what he began.”

“So where will you go now?” Professor Chambers asked. “Do you have somewhere to hide?”

“I was hoping…” Ramon began. There was a strange sound, a whistling that came through the air, then the tearing of fabric. He looked down. There was something sticking out of his shirt. Puzzled, he reached down and touched it, then tried to pull it free. It wouldn’t move and when he released it, his hand was wet with blood.

They had all heard it but hadn’t realized what it was. A fence post. It had been thrown with impossible force from out of the darkness. It must have travelled more than fifty metres before the pointed end smashed into the back of the sofa penetrating through the leather and padding before impaling the man who was sitting there. Ramon’s eyes widened. He tried to speak. Then he slumped forward, pinned into place, unable even to fall.

The alarms hadn’t gone off. The radar screen was empty. Professor Chambers sprang to her feet and pressed the button to turn on the outside lights. Nothing happened.

Something was moving in the garden. There were figures, edging forward, dressed in filthy, tattered clothes that hung off them as if they were rotting away. Matt could just make them out in the light spilling from the room. It was suddenly very cold and he knew at once that dark forces were at work and whatever they were, coming towards him, they weren’t human.