The Gods' Gambit by David Lee Marriner Read Free Book Online Page B

and sat at the table.
    “I don’t know what’s come over old Lao, making you exert
yourself so early in the morning,” Pema said. She possessed a quiet melodic
voice, which suited her gentle face and frail figure. Her hair was raven-black
and plaited in a single long braid and, like her husband, she looked much
younger than her actual age.
    “Don’t worry; it was good practice. I’m grateful to him,”
responded James.
    “I heard you talking on the phone this morning,” said
Elizabeth.
    “Yes. Sorry if I woke you. It was that old friend of mine,
Lino, from Italy.” James reminded Elizabeth about Lino, adding a few funny
stories about when he and James were at Oxford together. However, he didn’t
mention exactly why Lino had called him. He had decided there was no need to
bother Elizabeth with such things.
    After breakfast, James and Elizabeth went for a walk in the
forest as usual. The weather was pleasant and the sky was clear and there was a
feeling of spring freshness in the air. They had just reached the first row of
pine trees when James’ mobile rang.
    “Mr James Whiteway?”
    “Yes, speaking.”
    “Hello. I’m detective superintendent Peter Oliver, Criminal
Investigations.”
    “What can I do for you, superintendent?”
    “I have something I want to show you. Are you available to
come in and have a look?”
    “Yes, I am. What’s it about?”
    “I’d like you to take a look at a crime scene. Could you do
it now?”
    “Yes, if it’s necessary.”
    “I would appreciate it. Are you at home?”
    “Yes.”
    “OK, a car will be there in ten minutes.”
    James hung up, “El, I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our
walk.”
     
     
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Brighton, UK
     
    “Do you need anything?” The blonde airhostess leaned over
the seats occupied by Margaret and Charles Whiteway. “We’ve got about
forty-five minutes before we land at Cusco Airport.”
    Before either of them had a chance to answer, a man sitting
opposite them interjected, “I strongly recommend that you to try out the local
chicha. It’s a tasty and light natural alcohol.” He lifted his hand to show
them an elongated mug made of clear jade encrusted with rubies and turquoises.
The tone of his voice was polite but had a slightly arrogant and patronizing
tone.
    A little girl sitting in front of Charles and Margaret
started to pull at her mother’s sleeve and cried, “Mummy, Mummy, I’m thirsty.”
     “Capacocha!” chimed in the man in a coarse voice.
    Margaret gave the man a scathing look. “What on earth is he
talking about?” she asked her husband.
    “Capacocha is an old Inca ritual during which little
children are sacrificed in order to propitiate the gods, deflect natural
disaster, or when a mighty ruler dies,” Charles explained.
    “We shouldn’t let him speak that way,” said Margaret.
    The young airhostess, who had by this time moved several
steps away, stretched her arm towards Margaret and Charles to reveal two big
red dice resting in her palm. “The lots have been cast,” she whispered and
disappeared without a trace in a blink of an eye. Only her uniform remained,
swaying in the air before crumpling to the floor.
    Suddenly, the plane began to shake. Objects began to fall
from the storage units and oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling.
    “We’re going to die. Lord, save us!” cried the young mother,
desperately clinging to her daughter.
    Charles and Margaret stood up holding hands. They moved to
the corridor, their eyes fixed on a dazzling white halo that had just appeared
in front of them. Its depth was endless. As they stepped towards it, the young
mother shouted, “Please, take us with you! Don’t leave us here!”
    The man from a seat opposite theirs rose. Now, instead of
the jade mug, he held out a crystal knife, pointing it at the child.
“Capacocha,” he repeated sinisterly.
    Charles and Margaret looked at each other, turned round and
went back. Charles took the girl in his arms and