Son of Perdition (Chronicles of Brothers) Read Online Free Page B

to live.
    ‘Hey!’ A soft German accent broke into his reverie.
    Klaus sank his tall, lean frame into chair opposite Nick. Their relationship had been intense but short-lived; yet they were still close.
    ‘Good to see you,’ Nick murmured.
    ‘I can’t stay long,’ Klaus said. ‘I have to pack. Classified dig in the Middle East. They’ve uncovered a historic ancient artefact of international importance.’
    Nick raised his eyebrows.
    Klaus lowered his voice.
    ‘Look, Nick – I don’t know what they’ve discovered. But it’s huge. MI6 and Interpol. They were . . . ’ He frowned. ‘How do you say it in English? “Swarming” all over the museum today. The Vatican’s involved.’
    ‘And you don’t know where?’
    Klaus shook his head.
    ‘Iraq . . . Syria . . . Israel. The beginning of civilization. I know the way they work – it’ll remain undisclosed until my arrival.’ His eyes shone with exhilaration. ‘No mobile phones. No laptops. All communications confiscated till I return to British soil.’
    ‘Which is . . . ?’
    ‘As long as it takes.’ Klaus signalled to a waitress. ‘Espresso.’ ‘When do you leave for Egypt?’
    ‘Tomorrow,’ Nick answered. ‘I overnight in Alexandria, then meet St Cartier at the monastery.’
    ‘Ah – Lawrence St Cartier.’ Klaus raised his eyebrows. ‘The enigma  . . . ’
    He gestured to the bank of televisions above the bar. ‘It looks like your brother’s actually got the Iranians to the table. It’s all over the news.’
    Nick stared up at the six screens, all transmitting the handsome angular features of Adrian De Vere.
    ‘Thank God for Adrian,’ Nick muttered.
    Klaus laid his hand gently on Nick’s frail forearm.
    ‘He’s still paying for your medication?’
    Nick nodded. ‘The meds, clinics, my apartment, my car . . . He’s saved my life. Literally. The Jordanian monies are released this week. I’ll be of independent means again.’ Nick shook his head. ‘God. Dad hated you and me. Our relationship.’
    ‘It’s in the past, Nicholas.’ Klaus said gently. ‘We have to get you strong. You know I’m always here if you need anything.’
    Nick smiled faintly. ‘Thanks, Klaus. You’ve been the best.’
    ‘How’s the Jordanian Princess?’
    ‘Things are good,’ he said softly.
    ‘Serious?’
    Nick took a sip of his bitter. ‘Very serious.’
    ‘And Jason?’
    ‘You know Jason.’ Nick shrugged. ‘I don’t exist.’
    ‘Leave him to it.’ Klaus frowned, visibly upset. ‘ He has the problem.’
    He gestured back to the television screens.
    ‘All Germany’s calling Adrian Der Wunderkind . Even my grandmother in Hamburg.’ He shook his head. ‘It was so awful what happened in Berlin.’ He fell silent.
    ‘Hey – turn it up!’ An unshaven executive in a shiny black suit called out.
    Nick watched, intrigued, as the restaurant quieted. All eyes were riveted on the former British Prime Minister, Adrian De Vere.
    ‘For the first time in the history of the world since Hiroshima, major cities have experienced the utter devastation of a nuclear strike.’
    Adrian’s voice was quiet but hard as steel.
    ‘Moscow, St Petersburg, Novosibirsk, Damascus, Tel Aviv, Mashhad, Tabriz, Aleppo, Ankara, Riyadh, Haifa, Los Angeles, Chicago, Colorado Springs, Glasgow, Manchester, Berlin. The list goes on.’
    He hesitated.
    ‘Entire cities erased from the face of the earth. Communities. Families. Fathers. Mothers. Sons. Daughters. Their bodies incinerated.’
    Adrian looked directly into the camera. The entire restaurant fell silent.
    ‘Next month – in Babylon – a pact between Russia, the Arab nations, the United Nations, the European Union and Israel will be signed. A nuclear disarmament pact that will last for forty years. The first phase – the seven-year Ishtar Accord – to be signed in Babylon. It is my personal and fervent aspiration. By that I mean that I am determined.’ He paused. ‘Let me repeat . . . I mean