The Adept Book 3 The Templar Treasure Read Online Free PDF Page A

hope that he will.”
    “I see,” Adam said. “I don’t suppose Mrs. Fiennes is there in the ICU, by any chance?”
    “No, I don’t see her—though I’m sure she hasn’t gone far. I think her son finally persuaded her to go down to the hospital cafe for a cup of coffee. She’s been here all night, and he came in first thing this morning. Shall I have one of them return your call when they come back?”
    “No, I’ll be on my way to the airport by then,” Adam said. “Just tell Mrs. Fiennes that I’ve received her message and that I expect to be joining her there at the hospital in a couple of hours. Will you do that? Thank you very much.”

Chapter Two

    ADAM MADE the drive across town to police headquarters ina mood of somber reflection, skirting west of the castle mound and into Princes Street, then winding up around Charlotte Square and on along Queensferry Road. He could not escape the growing conviction that something beyond a mere burglary and assault lay at the root of what was now unfolding.
    The headquarters complex for the Lothian and Borders Police Department was a multistorey confection of glass and steel, bristling with radio antennae on its roofs and set back from Fettes Avenue, northwest of the city center. Pulling around into the visitors’ car park, within sight of McLeod’s black BMW, Adam parked and locked the dark blue Jaguar and headed for the main entrance. One of the officers on duty at the desk recognized him and waved him on through, rather than asking him to wait for an escort to come down and fetch him, and he made his way purposefully up a back stair. As he headed through the large open-plan office toward McLeod’s door, which was ajar, he nodded recognition to several officers working there. He could hear McLeod’s voice through the gap as he approached.
    “Yes, thanks, Walter. That’s all I can think of at the moment. Right. We’ll talk again when I get there. In the meantime, thanks for all your trouble.”
    There followed the click of a telephone receiver being returned to its cradle, just before Adam gave a light rap at the door to announce his presence.
    “Enter!” McLeod called.
    Adam pushed the door open. McLeod was at his desk, gold-rimmed aviator spectacles pushed up on his forehead and his tie askew, looking like a man in no mood to welcome interruptions. As soon as he caught sight of Adam, however, his expression eased to a grin of welcome, the wiry grey moustache bristling above a glint of white teeth.
    “Hullo, Adam. Sorry about the bark. I thought for a moment it was one of my confounded juniors determined to bollix things up at the last minute.”
    “I take it, then, that you’re free and clear?”
    “At least for the rest of today and tomorrow,” McLeod said with a grim nod, getting to his feet and reaching for his coat. “I’ve just been on the phone to a colleague down in York, who’s going to find out what he can. Someone will meet us when we arrive. On the surface, at least, it appears to have been a professional job: household alarm effectively disabled—safe opened, not blown—no identifiable prints left anywhere, other than those of the victim and his wife. There were two perpetrators, but they were wearing balaclava masks and surgical gloves. York Police are still interviewing possible witnesses in the neighborhood, but they haven’t got any leads. It doesn’t look very hopeful at present.”
    As he did up his tie, a fresh-faced young man in civilian clothes appeared in the doorway—Donald Cochrane, one of McLeod’s most able assistants, recently promoted to the rank of detective.
    “Oh, there you are, Donald,” McLeod said. “Did you finally get through?”
    Cochrane grinned, just missing a salute. “Yes, sir. Mrs. McLeod apologizes for tying up the phone, and will have a bag waiting for you by the time you get there. Anything else you’d like me to do?”
    “Can’t think of anything,” McLeod replied. “You have the con till I