Ghost Dance Read Online Free
University College London - that's on Gower Street in the centre of town. Just go to main reception and I'll meet you inside."
"What's the emergency?"
"Why spoil the surprise? I'll see you there, Morgan."
The call cut off before he could ask anything further. He shook his head, sure she was paying him back for his earlier cheek. And it occurred to him that he'd known Kate only two months and Ian more than a decade, but he felt closer to his boss than he ever did to his childhood friend.
Ian looked up from his pint as Morgan approached. "Something happened?"
"Work called. Sorry, man, I've gotta go."
He was halfway to the door when Ian called out, "What you doing now, anyway? You never said."
Morgan hesitated a moment, studying the other man, the smile lines starting to form around his mouth and the wide innocence of his eyes. "No, I didn't," he said finally. "You have a nice life, Ian."
He could feel Ian watching him as he weaved between the tables to reach the door, but he didn't look back.
Night had fallen when an hour and two buses later Morgan reached Gower Street and strode through the front gates with a confidence he didn't feel. The moon was full above the white buildings and the grand central dome of the university, but its light was drowned out by the glare of London.
He didn't spot the cops until he was nearly on top of them, a cluster of uniforms at the foot of the staircase leading inside. "It's closed, mate," one of them said. "Crime scene."
"That's what I'm here about," Morgan guessed.
"Yeah, and who are you?" The policeman scowled beneath his blond crew cut. Morgan saw that he had a Celtic knot tattoo circling his arm to disappear beneath the short sleeve of his shirt.
"He's with me," Kate said, striding down the stairs towards them. "This way, Morgan." Night time erased the wrinkles around her eyes and blurred the silver in her hair so that he could see her as the striking young girl Tomas had fallen in love with, not the weary, middle-aged woman she'd become.
"Crime scene?" he said as they ducked into the foyer. "What crime?"
"Murder."
When they turned left, he saw the body perched upright in a wooden case against one of the walls. It was dressed in an old-fashioned frock coat.
Kate raised an eyebrow as he turned towards it, then smiled. "No, that's not it."
Closer to, Morgan could see she was right. The face was wax, not flesh, the rosy glow of the cheeks painted on. "What is this?" he said. "Fucking Madam Tussauds?"
"Actually, the skeleton is real. That's Jeremy Bentham - he was a philosopher. When he died in 1832 he left his body to the University, but his will stipulated that the corpse had to be preserved and displayed. It's supposed to attend annual board meetings, too. Bentham called it his Auto Icon."
She shivered, and Morgan knew she was thinking about Tomas. They turned their backs on the body and walked deeper inside the building, past the public spaces and into a dingy corridor with blue-and-white police tape stretched across one end. Morgan followed Kate as she ducked underneath.
The room beyond was larger than he'd expected, a lecture theatre with a semi-circle of raked seating facing a lectern and a screen. The screen was lit-up, the headline 'Heteronormative Influences in Elizabethan Alchemy' followed by a block of writing which made even less sense. The police appeared to have been and gone, a latex glove and a dusting of fingerprint powder on one of the wooden benches the sole relics of their presence. The insect-whine of a computer fan was the only sound in the room.
The woman's body was sprawled beside the lectern, eyes open but unseeing. She looked almost the same age as Kate, but less pretty. She had the sort of face that inspired affection rather than desire; round-cheeked and friendly.
"Doctor Jane Granger. Cambridge academic due to give a guest lecture at UCL tomorrow," Kate said. "Apparently she was nervous, so she decided to rehearse it. The killer must have
"What's the emergency?"
"Why spoil the surprise? I'll see you there, Morgan."
The call cut off before he could ask anything further. He shook his head, sure she was paying him back for his earlier cheek. And it occurred to him that he'd known Kate only two months and Ian more than a decade, but he felt closer to his boss than he ever did to his childhood friend.
Ian looked up from his pint as Morgan approached. "Something happened?"
"Work called. Sorry, man, I've gotta go."
He was halfway to the door when Ian called out, "What you doing now, anyway? You never said."
Morgan hesitated a moment, studying the other man, the smile lines starting to form around his mouth and the wide innocence of his eyes. "No, I didn't," he said finally. "You have a nice life, Ian."
He could feel Ian watching him as he weaved between the tables to reach the door, but he didn't look back.
Night had fallen when an hour and two buses later Morgan reached Gower Street and strode through the front gates with a confidence he didn't feel. The moon was full above the white buildings and the grand central dome of the university, but its light was drowned out by the glare of London.
He didn't spot the cops until he was nearly on top of them, a cluster of uniforms at the foot of the staircase leading inside. "It's closed, mate," one of them said. "Crime scene."
"That's what I'm here about," Morgan guessed.
"Yeah, and who are you?" The policeman scowled beneath his blond crew cut. Morgan saw that he had a Celtic knot tattoo circling his arm to disappear beneath the short sleeve of his shirt.
"He's with me," Kate said, striding down the stairs towards them. "This way, Morgan." Night time erased the wrinkles around her eyes and blurred the silver in her hair so that he could see her as the striking young girl Tomas had fallen in love with, not the weary, middle-aged woman she'd become.
"Crime scene?" he said as they ducked into the foyer. "What crime?"
"Murder."
When they turned left, he saw the body perched upright in a wooden case against one of the walls. It was dressed in an old-fashioned frock coat.
Kate raised an eyebrow as he turned towards it, then smiled. "No, that's not it."
Closer to, Morgan could see she was right. The face was wax, not flesh, the rosy glow of the cheeks painted on. "What is this?" he said. "Fucking Madam Tussauds?"
"Actually, the skeleton is real. That's Jeremy Bentham - he was a philosopher. When he died in 1832 he left his body to the University, but his will stipulated that the corpse had to be preserved and displayed. It's supposed to attend annual board meetings, too. Bentham called it his Auto Icon."
She shivered, and Morgan knew she was thinking about Tomas. They turned their backs on the body and walked deeper inside the building, past the public spaces and into a dingy corridor with blue-and-white police tape stretched across one end. Morgan followed Kate as she ducked underneath.
The room beyond was larger than he'd expected, a lecture theatre with a semi-circle of raked seating facing a lectern and a screen. The screen was lit-up, the headline 'Heteronormative Influences in Elizabethan Alchemy' followed by a block of writing which made even less sense. The police appeared to have been and gone, a latex glove and a dusting of fingerprint powder on one of the wooden benches the sole relics of their presence. The insect-whine of a computer fan was the only sound in the room.
The woman's body was sprawled beside the lectern, eyes open but unseeing. She looked almost the same age as Kate, but less pretty. She had the sort of face that inspired affection rather than desire; round-cheeked and friendly.
"Doctor Jane Granger. Cambridge academic due to give a guest lecture at UCL tomorrow," Kate said. "Apparently she was nervous, so she decided to rehearse it. The killer must have
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