Dead Ball Tom Palmer (best books to read for self development TXT) 📖

to be the finest room he had ever seen – and he had seen some serious rooms. The walls were gold. Sir Richard didn’t doubt for a minute that it was real gold. The ceiling was decorated like an enormous oil painting. Beautiful. And there was a series of large ornaments on a shelf around the wall. Eggs. Small, medium and large eggs. Each was painted or bejewelled. Sir Richard knew that these were Fabergé eggs, each probably worth thousands of pounds. Some maybe more.

‘There is something I have not told you about England,’ he said. ‘About my… difficulties.’

Tupolev nodded, but said nothing.

Sir Richard knew he should go on. ‘When the Roberts affair came out…’

‘Yes?’

‘The main reason I… failed… was that boy.’

‘That boy?’

‘Yes, that boy. Although you will have read about other things, it was a boy – that boy – who got in my way.’

‘How can a boy…?’

‘He’s a special boy.’

‘But he was lucky? He found out your plans?’

‘No, I don’t think so. I think he worked everything out. Then tried to stop me.’

‘A boy, Sir Richard? Maybe once he was lucky. But now he is no threat. Not against me and my… people. And you, of course.’

‘I hope not, Dmitri. But it is important you should know about him.’

Tupolev picked up a phone. ‘Do you want him captured or simply dead?’ he enquired.

‘Sorry?’

‘The boy? I will send out my best men today and tonight. It will be just a matter of time. My men know the city and all its ways.’ Tupolev paused. ‘Dead or alive?’

Sir Richard knew he shouldn’t stall or appear weak. He needed Tupolev to see that he was a decisive and strong man.

‘Dead,’ he said.

Tupolev began to dial, his expression completely unchanged.

If the two men had looked down into Red Square at that moment they might have seen a small figure walking briskly from left to right, across the front of the famous GUM department store, a building that looked more like a cathedral.

Danny had emerged from the Metro and was heading for the swirling towers of St Basil’s Cathedral.

Sanctuary.

When Holt had told him the story about how the cathedral had played its part in history, he had listened with some interest. But now the story meant everything to him. This cathedral was to be his sanctuary, his hiding-place, the place he could feel safe, away from the men in black, the guns under their jackets that he had been so terrified by earlier.

He walked quickly across the square, not looking up at the Kremlin. Nor at the mausoleum that seemed so trivial to him now. Now that he felt his life was in danger.

He needed time to think. Time to work out what he had seen and what it meant. McGee. Skatie. The men in black. Sir Richard. Had it really been him? Then he needed to call to ask for Holt’s help.

As Danny approached the cathedral he looked back.

What he saw terrified him.

Through a large fortified gate at the near end of the square, a group of eight men, all dressed in black, had emerged. One of them finished a phone conversation and snapped his phone shut. Danny could see him issuing orders to the other men.

The men split into pairs. Heading off in different directions.

Danny knew who they were. He recognized the one giving orders. And he was pretty sure who they were looking for.

Him.

He moved quickly into the cathedral, buying a ticket at the entrance. Could he find somewhere to hide? Or someone to help him? Or would he be thrown out, back on to the street where the men in black would find him in no time?

It was – without doubt – the strangest cathedral he’d been in. Not huge echoing space, but a honeycomb of rooms and narrow passages. Everything was decorated: the walls, the ceilings, the floors. Danny was awestruck. He’d never seen anything like this before.

Inside, Danny decided to walk round the cathedral as if admiring it. But this was a reconnaissance. He had to clear his head and think. He stopped every minute or so to gaze at a panel or a ceiling. But as he looked, he saw nothing. His fear of capture was so overwhelming that he felt like his senses weren’t working. His heart was going so fast he felt sick.

So, where to hide?

Behind a massive painting that was leaning against the wall of the cathedral? No, he’d be seen there.

In one of the rooms that were part of the strange labyrinth? No, there was no place to hide.

Through a door, maybe leading downstairs to the cellars? But all the doorways were locked or blocked by glass panels. And anyway, it was too risky. He could end up locked down there all night.

Then he saw it. Back at the entrance. Somewhere he could lie down. A tomb. It looked like a four-poster bed. It was decorated with images and gold, metal pots hanging down. It was the tomb of St Basil. And, behind it, there was a gap, just big enough for him to slip behind.

Perfect, Danny thought.

It was a place to hide in case the men in black came searching for him. And very possibly a place to spend the night.

Danny climbed round the tomb and crouched. Then, after a minute, lay down and breathed out, closing his eyes.

He had a million questions.

Why would Matt McGee attack Robert Skatie?

Was he sure he’d seen Sir Richard Gawthorpe?

And, if so, what was he doing on the steps by the river?

And would the team of men come looking for him in here?

Every question begged another question.

When Danny opened his eyes he was stunned to see the inside of a tower above him. At the top of the tower, staring down at him, a massive painting of Jesus.

At first it surprised him. But then it made him feel better. Somehow. Like it meant he was going to be safe.

Once Danny was settled – and was sure that there were no people nearby – he took