The Venice Code Read Online Free

He squeezed back and glanced at her, her auburn hair loose today and hanging over her shoulders, her alabaster skin brilliantly white and flawless, at least in his eyes. He knew she was showing the odd line around the eyes, the signs of aging unavoidable as she lived the life of an archeologist, her skin baking in the dry heat of desert dig sites, her body exposed to the rigors of running for her life on far too many occasions, bullets, rockets, bombs and plain old knives and spears trying to end her time on this world.
    And his too. Their introduction and romance had been a whirlwind, but over the past few years he had finally found true love for the first time in his life, and he had never been happier, despite the innumerable attempts on their lives. The pair of them seemed to be a magnet for danger, but through it they had met each other and made some dear friends despite their ordeals.
    And one of those lay in a hospital bed at the end of this hall. Detective Inspector Martin Chaney of Scotland Yard. He had been shot several months ago at Laura’s dig site in Egypt trying to protect them and had slipped into a coma due to the massive loss of blood. His former partner, who was also at the dig site, INTERPOL Special Agent Hugh Reading, had held a vigil at Chaney’s bedside every spare moment he had, talking to him, yelling at him, bargaining with him, all to no effect.
    Until recently.
    Three days ago Chaney had awoken, much to the shock and delight of Reading who had been insulting Chaney’s choice of football clubs when, according to Reading’s phone call Acton had received two days ago, the “most glorious grunt you had ever heard” erupted from their friend and soon after he was talking and moving all his limbs.
    Acton had immediately boarded a plane to join Laura who was lecturing at her university in London. She had waited to see Chaney, wanting to give him some time to recover and also to share the excitement with her fiancé.
    “I wonder how he’s doing?” asked Acton as they neared the door.
    “I talked to Hugh last night and he said that other than the memory loss, he seems to be fine, just very weak.”
    Acton frowned as he knocked on the door. “Hopefully his memory will return.”
    “The doctors say it’s fifty-fifty.”
    “He’s a tough cookie, I’m betting on the odds being better than that.”
    The door opened and Acton found himself bear hugged by an ecstatic Reading, who then exchanged a more gentle one with Laura.
    “’Bout time you two got here!” he cried, waving them into the room. “Look who’s here!” he said, turning to his old partner. Chaney was sitting up in his bed, propped up on pillows and the bed adjusted to a near seated position. He had a food tray in front of him with various pale looking offerings, and a huge smile on his face as he saw them enter.
    “Hey Buddy, how the hell are you?” asked Acton as he rounded the bed, hand out.
    Chaney extended a hand and shook Acton’s—rather weakly Acton felt—then exchanged cheek to cheek kisses with Laura.
    “Yes, Martin, how are you?”
    Chaney pushed the food tray away.
    “Apparently much better than I was last time I saw you both, though this food they’re trying to force upon me is bloody awful and I’m convinced is designed to put me back into a coma.”
    Reading roared with laughter, clearly delighted his friend was almost his old self.
    “Tell me about the memory loss,” said Acton, perching on the side of the bed. “What do you remember?”
    Chaney frowned. “It’s strange. I remember all of you, but not how we met. I don’t remember the dig in Egypt, or even deciding to go there which apparently was at least a couple of months before we actually went.”
    “Are you remembering any bits of it, or is it a complete blank?” asked Laura who had sat in the lone chair.
    “I’m dreaming about some stuff that just doesn’t make sense that I’m thinking might be memories, but who knows? They could be