The Revelation Code (Wilde/Chase 11) by Andy McDermott Read Free Book Online

like?’
    ‘What? That’s all the way over by Eighth Avenue – it’s a bit out of my way.’
    ‘I’m pregnant, I get to decide what I eat and where it comes from!’ She had meant it as a joke, but it came out more shrill than intended.
    ‘Soup for you, then,’ said Eddie. ‘You want anything else?’
    Was there a hint of sullenness? ‘No, that’s okay. Although, wait – you could get me my favourite sandwich.’
    ‘The ones from Aldo’s deli back across in the East Village?’ That was definitely tinged with exasperation.
    ‘Okay, forget the sandwich,’ she sighed. ‘Just the soup.’
    ‘Just the soup. No problem.’
    ‘Thanks, Eddie.’ Silence on the line. ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘Yeah, of course,’ he replied, still sounding downcast before suddenly becoming more enthusiastic – forcedly so, she couldn’t help but think. ‘Oh, I came up with some more baby names!’
    Considering his past suggestions, that immediately put her on alert. ‘Go on . . .’
    ‘For a girl, I’m thinking Pandemonium. For a boy, Arbuthnot. Pandemonium Chase, that works, doesn’t it?’
    ‘Arbuthnot,’ she repeated. ‘That’s not even a real name.’
    ‘Yeah, it is! It’s a good, honest Yorkshire name. You can’t go into a pub where I grew up without meeting a couple of Arbuthnots.’
    Nina knew that in other circumstances she would have been amused, but right now even Eddie’s best efforts were failing to breach her prison of gloom. ‘I think we need to keep thinking.’
    ‘It’ll be hard to top Arbuthnot.’
    Something snapped. ‘Stop saying Arbuthnot! That’s the most stupid name I’ve ever heard. God! If you can’t even take seriously something as simple as choosing a name, how are you going to manage being a father?’
    The silence that followed was broken only by her own exasperated breathing. Finally he spoke. ‘I’ll figure it out when it happens. I’ll get your soup, then.’
    ‘Eddie, I—’ But he had disconnected. ‘God damn it,’ she muttered, already annoyed at herself. He was, as always, just trying to help – in his own unique, occasionally infuriating way – and she had overreacted and blown her top. She glowered down at her stomach. ‘This is all your fault,’ she told the unseen foetus. ‘You and your frickin’ hormones.’
    She headed to the kitchen for a drink. Along the way she passed a shelf of memories. Beside her husband’s hideous pottery cigar holder in the shape of a caricatured Fidel Castro, that she had by now despairingly accepted she would never find a believable excuse to smash, was a collection of photographs. The majority were Eddie’s, pictures of himself with friends now gone: his SAS mentor Jim ‘Mac’ McCrimmon, Belgian military comrade Hugo Castille, and others she knew only from stories.
    But Nina had her memorials too. Macy in one, dressed up as Lara Croft from the Tomb Raider video games for a magazine photo shoot; and in another, her own parents.
    Henry and Laura Wilde beamed at her from the picture, a quarter-century-younger version of herself between them. She remembered the time and place: an archaeological dig near Celsus in Turkey. It had been a hot, dry day, making their descent into the partially excavated Roman tombs both a relief and a thrill. The memory made her smile . . .
    It froze on her face.
    Her parents were gone, killed by their obsession, which their daughter had then taken on herself. The question she had posed at the therapist’s office returned: had everything she’d achieved been worth it?
    Another question from the session joined it. Was it right to bring a baby into her world? She knew herself well enough to be fully aware that her own obsession, her need to uncover the past, would never be sated. Was it fair to subject her own child to that same mania, to continue the cycle?
    What kind of mother would she be?
    Nina was forced to admit she had no idea.
    She broke out of her trance, leaving her nine-year-old self behind