'James, don't you think this has gone far enough?' Laura said.
'You don't really understand, do you, Laura?' Lightman replied. 'This is not a game. This is deadly serious. I have spent the last ten years of my life planning this most delicate process, and tonight will be the climax and the fulfilment of that work. You cannot be allowed to interfere. Now, please, do as I ask.' He put a hand to Laura's shoulder to guide her across the room. But she shrugged him off angrily.
'I can't believe this of you,' she hissed.
Philip took her arm and Lightman herded the three of them to the platform where the pentagram stood. On the floor lay a toolbox. Lightman opened the lid. Inside lay a wrench, some screwdrivers, an assortment of spanners, nuts and bolts, and a roll of duct * tape. He picked up the tape and handed it to Laura.
'Tie their wrists to the pentagram. You, sit down, over there,' he said to the two men. He held the gun to Bridges's back, pushing it just hard enough for him to feel it between his shoulder blades.
Philip slipped off his rucksack and laid it close by before lowering himself to the stone floor. Lightman walked around the back of the pentagram, keeping his revolver trained on them. He kicked Philip's bag across the floor and watched as Laura crouched down and wound the tape around Philip's wrists. He checked it as she moved on to do the same to Bridges.
'Sit down, please, Laura,' he said when she was done. He then taped her wrists to the pentagram.
'Now, I have much to do.' Lightman looked from face to face. Laura turned away in disgust.
'You really are wasting your time, you know' Bridges's voice was quiet but authoritative.
'Don't make me angry, Malcolm,' Lightman snapped. 'Although you are going to die anyway, there are ways to die that you would not like to contemplate, I assure you.'
'The inscription is a fake.'
'Is it, now?'
'Charlie Tucker learned what you were trying to achieve and altered the decoded inscription. He was obviously a believer. You killed him too soon, Professor.'
Lightman stared at Bridges for a moment. When he eventually spoke his voice was strangely subdued. 'I didn't have Tucker killed.'
'Well, whoever did take out Charlie Tucker has left you with a useless inscription that wouldn't conjure up a pixie, let alone Mephistopheles.'
Lightman's eyes were dark with fury. 'You think what you like, Malcolm,' he sneered. 'I imagine you are merely following your training. I can see the training manual now — Technique No.72: Try to intimidate your adversary with potentially threatening but quite spurious information.'
Bridges simply shrugged. 'OK … we can wait.'
'Can you?' Lightman barked and took a step forward. 'Perhaps I can rectify that.' He raised his gun to Bridges's head.
'No!' Laura screamed. Lightman turned on her and Philip, the gun waving around in front of their faces.
Lightman laughed and stepped back to survey the three of them tied to the pentagram. 'What a pathetic sight you make.'
'Oh, do shut up, James,' Laura snapped back. 'If anyone's pathetic it's you — you must have lost your mind.'
Lightman walked over to where Laura was sitting between Bridges and Philip. He lowered himself so that his face was level with hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek.
'You don't have the faintest suspicion, do you?' he said.
'Suspicion of what?' Laura hissed. 'What the hell are you talking about?'
'Why, the identity of the final victim, of course.' He smiled.
It took a moment for his words to take shape in Laura's mind.
'Ah, now you understand,' Lightman said coldly. 'Your daughter will be killed in. .' He looked at his watch. 'About forty-five minutes. Julius will then remove her liver and bring it here.'
Laura went cold. It swept over her like an Arctic wave. She felt Philip beside her trying to yank himself free from the tape that bound him to the pentagram.
'Don't tell me, Mr Bainbridge,' Lightman said softly. 'I won't get away with this? But who is going to stop me? Monroe? He hasn't got the foggiest.'
Laura was speechless with horror. Through her mind raced images of Jo alone at the house in Woodstock and the cold-hearted Julius Spenser creeping in through the back door. Philip had his eyes closed and his lips pressed firmly together. He looked very pale.
'Now, I expect you are wondering how Monroe could not have known Jo was my final subject, are you not?' No one answered Lightman and he seemed quite content to talk on. 'Well, although our DCI is a bit of a clod, this was not entirely his fault. You see, Jo — may I call her Jo? — Jo used her stepfather's name, Newcombe. That, as you know, Laura, is the name she uses for all official purposes and it is the name on her university admission forms. It's the name she used for the psychology tests. How could Monroe have worked that one out?'
Bridges let out an exaggerated sigh, and Lightman snapped his attention back to him.
'I'll say it again, Professor. You're wasting your time.'
Lightman levelled the gun once more at Bridges. They could all see the old man's hand shaking, and Laura suddenly remembered her visit to Lightman's office at the Bodleian a week earlier. She remembered the odd gripping device he had used to alleviate his arthritic pain. But she could do nothing. Her hands were bound so tightly that she could hardly feel her fingers.
Lightman switched hands, and as his right hand fell to his side he shook it as if to relieve some pain.
'You know, Malcolm,' and his voice trembled slightly, 'I'm getting rather tired of you repeating yourself They all watched him bring the gun up to Bridges's forehead. Slowly, almost sensuously, Lightman caressed Bridges's face with the cold muzzle. He moved it across his skin, leaving white marks. 'We are such frail things, are we not?' Lightman whispered. He lowered the gun slowly to a point a few inches above his victim's chest, then slid it along each arm, the left, then the right. Bringing it back to Bridges's torso and down to his groin, Lightman let the gun hover there for a few seconds. Still slowly, he ran it up the young man's right leg, then his left. Reaching the knee, he paused for a second. He seemed to be studying Bridges's leg, tilting his head slightly to one side, considering it. 'So very frail.'
He looked into Malcolm Bridges's eyes and fired.
The sound slammed around the room, ricocheting from the stone walls. The bullet shattered Bridges's knee. He screamed and spasmed violently, crashing back against the metal framework of the pentagram.
Lightman's face was expressionless. He ignored the young man's writhing body and turned his attention to Laura and Philip. They were both paralysed with shock.
'As I say, I have much to do,' Lightman muttered. There was a polite cough from the main doorway.
DCI Monroe stood there, flanked by two police officers. They were dressed in helmets and bulletproof vests. The two uniformed officers had their guns pointing at Lightman's head. 'Freeze! Lower your weapon,' Monroe said.
Lightman took a step to his right and grabbed Laura by the hair, making her scream with pain. Bringing his gun up to her right temple, he said. 'I rather think you should lower your weapons. I do so hate a mess.'
Laura's mind was racing. She refused to let panic overwhelm her. That would not help the situation and it certainly would not help Jo. Monroe and the two policemen stepped forward into the room. In response, Lightman pushed the gun harder against her temple, sending waves of pain through her head.
Without thinking exactly what she was doing, Laura twisted her head and pushed back hard against a crossbar of the metal pentagram immediately behind her. Another wave of pain shot through her, but it must have hurt Lightman even more because his fingers were crushed between the metal and the back of Laura's head.