The Secret Syndrome, Chapter 2

Hi, your friend and author Dan Reilly here. I just wanted to say how pleased I am by the response to the first chapter of The Secret Syndrome. Since posting it at this blog I've received a piece of fan mail, as you can see in a previous entry here, and also some preorders for the book.

Thanks to everyone who has emailed me (you know who you are) and thanks to those who haven't emailed me but read the chapter, even if you didn't enjoy it. Perhaps you'll like this one better!

What's that?

Yes, you heard right. Chapter 2 is here, right now, completely unbridged and completely radical. Get ready to be stunned because it's stunning!


Chapter 2

The Decatur Museum, one of the oldest museums in America, having originally been built in 1256 by native Red Indian chief Water Dripping and fashioned from earthenware and dung before being repossessed by the US government in 1912 as part of the controversial native American landgrab initiative depicted particularly evocatively in J. R. Miller's 'Red Sun Rising', was cavernous. Professor Strong's footsteps echoed frequently throughout the marble hallways. Shouldering his way through gaggles of tourists, he shot passing glances at the exhibits on display. He smiled inwardly, knowing that he was responsible for many of the artifacts having found their way to this museum.

As Strong strode passed the patrons, many of them gazed at him, aware of the powerful hands hanging at his sides and overawed by the brilliant mind that resided within his head.

Rounding a corner, Strong grinned and tossed his mane of auburn hair back casually.

He had seen a friend.

The museum's curator, Jonathan Splendid, was renowned for his love of good wine, good food and good women. Fortunately for Strong, his experience in these areas was surpassed only by his encyclopedic knowledge of ancient history.

Fortuitously, Splendid specialized in ancient Nordic runes.

"Ernest!" the rotund expert cried loudly and happily, seeing the professor approach. "To what do I owe this pleasure!"

"Well, Jon," began Professor Strong, "I think I may need to pick those brains of yours one more time."

"One more time eh?" Splendid's eyes twinkled like fairy lights at Christmas. "I thought you said that last time!"

The two men laughed as only two friends can laugh.

This persisted for a matter of moments.

Then, the laughter subsided and Strong turned serious. He produced a sheet of A4 paper on which he had had the foresight to copy the runes which had been branded on Ms Wolf's fragile and petite form. The paper was recycled as Strong was a keen conservationist.

Passing it to the curator, Strong said, "I need to know more about these shapes, Jon. Think you can help?"

Splendid studied the paper carefully, stroking his carefully trimmed auburn beard in the manner of one studiously deep in thought. Strong waited patiently, flexing his shovel-like hands and watching a small child eat an ice pop clumsily. He smiled whimsically. He would like to have children someday.

"Ernest," began Splendid, "where did you see these?" The tremor in his voice made it shake violently. "You see, if I am not mistaken, these are the sacred lost runes of—"

Suddenly a sharp knife, perhaps thrown from some considerable distance, struck Splendid in the chest!

The curator cried out in shock and agony, falling to the ground and dispersing a nearby group of tourists. Strong spun around quickly, searching the gloom for the perpetrator.

There!

A shadowy hooded figure darted behind one of the tall marble columns. Strong could hear the squeak of rubber of marble floor and knew instinctively that the hooded figure was wearing sneakers as he had spent some time whilst at Cambridge studying the effects of varying shoe-types on different surfaces with particular regard to sound and friction.

"Stop!" he yelled, and then leapt from his fallen comrade in pursuit of the shadowy figure in the dark.

The figure didn't stop. Strong hurled himself forward, his years as a college athlete were behind him but he still played squash every day and ran marathons. He knew every corridor and part of the museum but soon found himself in a room he had never been in before.

Empty display cabinets lined the stark walls and somewhere up ahead footsteps echoed.

The assailant!

Strong was gaining on the man. His thigh muscles ached, more from excitement than exertion. But he couldn't enjoy the moment too much. His friend had seemed mortally wounded and he would have to attend to that matter shortly. But for now the thrill of the chase was overcoming him and he let out a whoop.

His exultant cry echoed and bounced off the walls. There were no doors in the room except the one he had entered by but it was not lit and had only one high window so was dark. The figure could be hiding in any of the numerous shadows.

Strong's clenched fists were like hammerheads hanging at his sides. Cords of muscle rippled beneath his shirt, which was tan. He had been a junior champion prizefighter in his youth and though it was some years behind him he had never lost his speed or strength because he worked out every day in the private gym at the back of his property, which he had installed so that he could stay in shape.

This shadowy interloper wouldn't have expected curators and academics to fight back, Strong reckoned to himself, but he was in for a massive surprise.

"Come out and fight like a man!" Strong bellowed, causing the glass in the display cases to resonate dramatically.

To his surprise the figure stepped from the shadows, the hood of the cloak obscuring the face. The cloak hung to the ground so it also concealed the rest of the figure but Strong could see a few Indian throwing knives and a pouch attached the waist.

Poison? Thought Strong, thinking of the pouch. He had heard of assassins coating knives in it and then throwing them at people to poison them, which then killed the victim.

Splendid would need help sooner than he had anticipated.

"I said fight me like a man!" He rolled up his sleeves, revealing acres of taut muscle.

The figure threw back its hood, "I would, Professor Strong, but as you see I am incapable."

A woman!

Her curly raven black hair, released from the hood, sprang outwards like a Rorschach ink blot, filling Strong's mind with confusing desires. He shook his head. It was no spell (Strong didn't believe in them) but it was just as dangerous. The woman was the most beautiful he had ever seen, despite her murderous apparel.

Her ruby lips parted. "You did not expect to face a woman." She threw her head back, the line of her chin perfect, and laughed mockingly. "What will your response be?"

Before Strong had time to respond, the dark beauty threw a knife at him, her hand moving faster than he would have believed possible. But Strong was faster. He rolled to one side, a little move from his Special Ops training, and when he looked up she was gone.

Strong looked in every shadow but there was no trace.

Impossible. He thought, frowning for the first time that day. But there must be an explanation. The pouch – not filled with poison at all. That would have been in a vial. Of course! The solution was obvious. The pouch had been filled with a mixture of powders that caused smoke to be emitted when thrown, a technique used by ninjas. The woman had used the confusion to cover her escape in this fashion.

Strong looked around. There was a definite thin layer of smoke in the room that no one else would have noticed. It did not explain where she had gone though.

Perhaps right by him and out the door. Once she removed the cloak no one would suspect a woman of being the killer and she could leave the museum without being questioned.

Strong slammed his right fist into his left palm, the thud echoing loudly through the now silent chamber. He found the knife she had thrown and investigated it. Definitely Indian, as he had first thought, but she was as pale as the moon. And how was this linked to Nordic runes?
He ran back to Splendid, grabbing a first aid kit from an office on the way. Even if there had been no poison, the knife may have severed an artery and if that was the case, Strong would need all of his medical training to save the man who had been like a father to him since his father died.