The Second Birth of Frankenstein (The Department 19 Files #5) Read Online Free PDF Page A

and let us set watch.
Our
survival is all that matters now.”
    Munro shook his head. “You stay where you are,” he said. “
We
will find McTavish, and then
we
will decide what is to be done.” He walked unsteadily in the direction that McTavish had gone, and disappeared into the trees. Grant and Paterson looked despairingly at each other for a long moment, then shuffled after their colleague.
    “Don’t,” said Wallace. “There is only death out there.”
    The two men passed without so much as a glance in his direction. Paterson looked close to tears, and Grant was holding tightly to the silver cross that hung around his neck. A second or so later, Wallace was again alone in the clearing. He instantly pushed all concern for his colleagues from his mind, and refocused on the task of freeing himself. He rocked forwards and backwards several times, loosening the post once more, then, with a grunt of effort, pushed himself forward with all his strength. The post rose up, caught agonisingly on the lip of the hole that had been dug for it, then burst out of the ground in a shower of snow.
    Wallace tumbled to the ground, still tied, and shuffled backwards across the campsite, dragging the heavy post with him. He rolled himself so that the post, and the rope knots, were in the flames, ignoring the pain that began to radiate from his hands. He could smell burning fibres, and felt the slack around his wrists increase. He twisted and pulled, forcing the loops wider and wider, until, in a moment of heavenly relief, his hands came free. He wasted no time applying snow to the burns that covered them; he drew his knife, raised his legs, and began to slice furiously at the knots that locked his ankles and knees in place. The rope was strong, and the knots were well tied, but his knife was sharp, and it was the work of thirty seconds to cut the last of his bonds. He climbed to his feet, his legs screaming in pain at such sudden movement, in time to see his three colleagues emerge from the forest, their faces ashen.
    For a long moment, nobody moved. They stared at him, and he at them. In the end, it was Grant who spoke.
    “I never doubted you, Wallace,” he said. “McTavish has held a grudge on you for some months now, and I apologise to you for letting him act on it. I beg your forgiveness.”
    “You have it,” said Wallace. “What of you others?”
    “I apologise,” said Munro. “The accusations made against you were clearly false.”
    “And you, Paterson?” asked Wallace, turning to face the youngest of their company. “Has the time come when you will admit what you saw? Admit what could have spared me this ordeal had you had more courage?”
    Paterson nodded. “What happened was just as you said,” he replied, his voice unsteady. “Scott was attacked, but not by you. I was not brave enough to tell otherwise.”
    “Then the matter is laid to rest,” said Wallace, his words full of a magnanimity he didn’t feel. “Any sign of McTavish?”
    “Blood,” said Munro. “Steaming hot, and in large measure. Nothing else.”
    Wallace nodded. “Come warm yourselves,” he said. “There is much to discuss.”
    Munro shook his head. “Not for me,” he said. “I’m making for York Factory. Any who wish to accompany me are welcome.”
    Wallace grimaced. “That is a mistake,” he said. “Likely a fatal one.”
    Munro nodded. “I understand your view.” He turned to his colleagues. “Do you share it?”
    “Be reasonable, man,” said Grant. “It’s madness to go alone. Wait till dawn, when we will go together.”
    “You say madness?” said Munro. “I consider it mad to stay in a place where you know there is something that means us harm.”
    “Please, Munro,” said Paterson. “Stay with us.”
    Munro shook his head. “I mean no ill to any of you,” he said. “I wish you all the best. But I will not stay here, not for one minute longer.” He crossed the campsite, picked up his pack, and walked away along