Reckoning Read Online Free PDF Page B

purposeful, the eyes did not blink, did not move as Malachi staggered back. They remained locked on him, had been locked on him with hypnotic intensity since the professor had first recoiled. Unwavering in their focus, they were almost opaque with concentration, the stare of a panther crouching before a kill.
    And then, with a breath, Malachi knew. "You!" he began before he stopped, remembering the secret.
    As if commanding the professor's submission to his will, the man suddenly rose – a fluid, strong movement of confidence that demonstrated his power to subdue and control. But when the man moved slowly forward the gray eyes somehow softened and step by step became more and more open to reveal a pained and tormented soul.
    Malachi felt the first strange sense of safety.
    With only the faintest trace of emotion, of remorse, the stranger spoke.
    "Simon is dead."
    * * *

     
    SIX
     
    Unable to stand, Professor Malachi Halder sat back heavily in the mahogany chair at his desk. The stranger was beside him, touching his shoulder, reassuring.
    "Rest," he said.
    With a trembling hand, Malachi wiped sweat from his brow, sweat sliding on sweat. Finding his breath, he inhaled and felt the room suddenly warm. But his flesh was chilled, and he unconsciously massaged a place below his sternum. Finally, forcing a calm, he looked up.
    "I'm here to help you," the man said softly, then stepped away, moving cautiously to the window. Malachi saw that the curtains had been closed. The man edged back a corner of the curtain, staring into the street.
    Malachi found his voice.
    "You're Gage," he whispered.
    "I'm Gage."
    Malachi felt something returning; an ability to reason, to measure the situation. He realized that the stranger could have killed him easily, armed or unarmed. And yet the man had done nothing.
    "How did you get in here?" Malachi asked, a deep breath following the words.
    The stranger was expressionless. "I disabled your security system."
    Amazed, Malachi wondered how the man had accomplished such a task.
    "It's a simple thing, professor."
    Malachi gazed evenly at him, said nothing. He had seen this man called Gage only once before, but the face was wrapped in bandages, burned by flame, sun, and sand. One arm was in a crude cast, the body mangled by wounds. Malachi was unable to identify that broken form with the strong figure standing before him.
    Remembering the cunning of his enemies, the professor nodded and placed a hand on his chest, attempting to ignore the pain. Head lowered, from beneath his gray brows Malachi studied the man, struggling to conceal his suspicion.
    Gage remained motionless, gloved hands open. "You'll know soon enough, professor," he said simply. "When they come for you, you'll know."
    "What has happened?" Malachi's eyes narrowed, and he was surprised to hear the emptiness in his own voice.
    "Simon is dead," the man said bitterly. "And you're probably next. Or Sarah. Or the translator. But I promised Simon that I would defend you.”
    Malachi straightened, moved by the words. But even as he began to rise the stranger stepped to the side, cutting him off from the door. Malachi's analytical abilities had not deserted him, and he noted that the man had reacted even as he had thought of rising, not waiting for the initiation of the movement. The stranger's step toward the door had appeared slow only because it had begun so early in Malachi's decision to stand. But in truth the man had moved deceptively fast, simply without the appearance of haste. When Malachi had fully risen, the man was standing solidly between him and the exit. Malachi noticed he had taken a position that allowed him to view the hallway, or the room, with only the slightest shifting of his eyes.
    "How do you know that Simon is dead?" Malachi asked. "I went to see him yesterday and I was informed by Archbishop McBain that he had fallen ill. I was told that they had flown him back to Rome for long-term treatment.” He waited. “Are you