Experiment With Destiny Read Online Free

love on the grass was heaven itself.
                  “It’s not finished yet.” The dry voice snatched him rudely from his blissful reverie. Marcus blinked, confused, and found himself once more in the annex, on the wrong side of a rope. “They’ve decided to do it up a bit more, do it justice and landscape it…maybe add a period mannequin or two.”
    Marcus turned to the dark outline of the security guard who had joined him alongside the barrier. His eyes adjusted to the shadows and he slowly pieced together the man’s crumpled features.
                  “City Developments were so pleased the New Cathays project wasn’t held up because of this find, they’ve made a donation to the museum,” he added matter-of-factly. “And because they’re already sponsoring this exhibition, the curator’s decided to do a bit more with this latest addition.” Marcus studied him wordlessly, contempt seeping through his gaze. “A case of mutual back-scratching, if ever there was. If you ask me, City Developments were bloody lucky not to have an order slapped on them to halt demolition until that area’s been properly looked at by the experts.” The guard looked back at the picnic basket, oblivious to Marcus’s growing agitation. “But nobody cares for history much nowadays,” he added with a resigned sigh. “The way visitor numbers are dropping off, I’ll probably be out of a job before too long.”
                  For Marcus it could not have been worse. The security guard’s incongruous smile was the final irritation. His perfect moment had been tarnished by this rude interruption and was slipping away. As the last lingering traces of blissful serenity vanished into the dark recesses of his mind, Marcus turned and marched away from the picnic basket display. He did not pause at any of the other displays but walked quickly toward the exit, his heels clicking against the polished stone floor. The guard swung his head, eyes following with curiosity as Marcus disappeared along the corridor.
                  “Queer bloke,” he muttered and continued his round through an otherwise empty museum.
     
                  The bus that returned him to the coach station was on time. Marcus hated tardiness. He climbed aboard and swiped his card through the auto-fare. Avoiding the stares of his fellow passengers he found a space at the back. This time the warmth of the engine was little comfort as the black oppression descended upon his aching frame. The short journey out to Western Avenue Terminus seemed unending, stopping…starting…stopping, a snail’s progress through the peopled streets. Marcus felt the irritation boiling over into fury but managed to retain his composure until the creaky old vehicle finally turned into the station.
    Marcus disembarked, agitated and trembling, to find himself adrift in an ebb tide of humanity. His head began to pound, his chest tightened and his heart raged within. The reaction was so sudden it surprised him. He fumbled for his cigarettes, his hand shaking as he pushed one to his chapped lips and lit it. With each breath he tried to draw the strength to stop his world from spinning. It was useless. Hemmed in by the crowd there was only one means of escape.
                  Hands thrust deep into his pockets, head down and elbows pulled in, he charged the wall of bodies. There was a moment of resistance when the growing chorus of startled and angry protest mounted against him like a wave. Then the wall broke and he was pushing free. Leaving the shouted objections behind, he paced toward the number 7 bay and his waiting Valleys coach. Soon he would be free of the city.
                  Suddenly a young couple struggling with a suitcase blocked his way. Marcus refused to hesitate, even for a moment. The girl, raven black haired with stunning green eyes, was sent flying into a nearby queue and the suitcase tumbled