Читаем The 13th Tablet полностью

They both ran as fast as they could but before they could get to their car, a blue Mercedes drove up and double-parked in front of it. Two motorbikes, driven by men in dark suits and helmets appeared out of nowhere. One was revving near the double parked car and the other had mounted the pavement. Jack reacted with lightening speed. He ran towards the biker on the pavement and kicked him square in the chest. The man flew backwards off his bike onto the pavement. Before he could pick himself up, Jack had turned the bike around, Mina jumped on the back, her rucksack dangling on one arm, and they were off.

Jack accelerated towards Little Venice and drove over the bridge Mina had crossed the same morning. Looking in his mirror, Jack saw that the Mercedes and the second biker were behind them and without a second thought he took a sudden hard right turn into a one-way street. They nearly crashed into a utilities van that was heading in the same direction but at a much slower pace. Jack slowed down as he turned right again onto the canal tow path. The Mercedes screeched its tires as its driver hit the brakes to avoid crashing into the front of the Bridge Pub, but the biker followed the same route as Jack.

Mina was on the verge of passing out in fear but she held onto Jack as they sped down the narrow bicycle lane at full throttle, dodging benches and terrified cyclists. She thought she heard a cracking sound. Jack shouted at her not to turn her head around, and to duck low. The biker was shooting at them. Even at this speed, Jack managed to drive in a zigzag so their pursuer couldn’t get a clear shot. He suddenly saw an opening in the hedge to their left, just as a group of cyclists was coming towards them. He missed crashing into the group by a hair’s breadth and he catapulted into the small path leading away from the canal and towards the main road. Their pursuer was not so lucky. He lost control of his motorbike, skidded on his side and all Mina heard was a loud splash as he crashed through the cyclists and into the canal. As they reached the main road, they dismounted the motorbike and Jack hid it in a convenient bush as Mina hailed a passing taxi. The cab slowed down and pulled up beside them. They rushed inside.

‘British Museum, please,’ said Jack.

‘Right you are,’ replied the cabbie.

‘Oh my god, oh my god,’ Mina kept repeating, as Jack held her hands and tried to comfort her.

‘We’re safe for now, Mina. Let’s stick to the plan.’

The driver of the blue Mercedes had watched the whole scene from a nearby bridge. He waited for a few cars to pass by, and calmly started tailing Jack’s cab.

The black cab entered Great Russell Street and slowed down as it approached the main entrance of the British Museum. Jack got out first, helping Mina out of the car. A cold wind was now blowing. Jack tightened his scarf around his neck and looked up to the sky. Dark clouds were forming above them. It would start raining soon and from the looks of it, it would be a heavy downpour. ‘It might just work for us,’ thought Jack, as he followed Mina through the great gates.

Just ahead of them was the outer courtyard, and beyond it the enormous building that had been a landmark in the London landscape since its construction in 1753, when Sir Henry Soane offered his private collection to the British public. It was much smaller then, the collection being kept in Montague House, but over the next centuries, more than sixty houses surrounding the museum were pulled down and a central edifice appeared with large gallery wings. The museum extended all the way to Montague Place, and housed the millions of objects that had been added each year to the initial 18th century collection. After much construction work, there rose a building of huge proportions, with a tremendous neoclassical facade, eight perfect ionic columns crowned by a pediment and flanked by a colonnade on either side.

As Jack walked past the guards, he gave a sidelong glance back to the main street and noticed the blue Mercedes driving slowly past the gates. Their pursuers had caught up with them and were not even bothering to hide anymore. Jack immediately assumed they’d have men near Montague Place, the other exit of the Museum, which was more discreet for a stakeout. They’d have to lose them at the museum’s main entrance. As they walked through the outer courtyard, Jack stared at the fa.ade, and for a few moments felt almost dwarfed by the edifice and its awesome presence. To him it resembled a Greek temple, standing fast in the coming storm, towering above London’s streets and his own personal problems. They seemed so petty in contrast to this monument dedicated to past ages and to the memory of ancient and great civilisations. They climbed the stairs into the main lobby. Mina walked straight into the Great Court.

‘Mina, walk slowly. There’s no rush.’

‘Alright. Where do you want to go?’

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you show me the flood tablet you mentioned.’