was a tall and exceptionally pretty brunette with sensual almond eyes and full, brightly coloured lips. Her hair was arranged with care to look a mess. She was wearing a short tartan skirt over black woollen tights, a pair of black Doc Martens, a tight red sweater and a black cardigan.
She was carrying an armful of books and had a small leather bag slung over her left shoulder. The Acolyte considered Samantha Thurow's sartorial choices with some distaste as he walked slowly around the quad, watching the two girls go past the Porters' Lodge into the street beyond.
He had committed to memory almost every detail of the file he had constructed on Samantha Thurow. Born 19 May 1986 in Godalming, Surrey. Father an arms contractor; mother a teacher; two older brothers and a younger sister. A scholarship student in her third year at Somerville. Samantha was on the fast track, a high-flyer. Medical: perfect health, usual childhood illnesses, broken arm at the age of nine; kidneys in Al condition. Love life: current boyfriend Simon Welding, a trainee teacher, twenty-four. He shared a rented house in East Oxford with two other students, and Samantha stayed there at least twice a week during term time.
Samantha unlocked her bike and pulled it away from the wall, waved goodbye to her friend and turned right, crossing St Giles and heading towards the city centre. The Acolyte knew where she was going and felt no need to hurry back to his car. Reaching the Toyota, he pulled on his gloves, removed a wipe from the packet he always kept with him and cleaned the driver's seat before lowering himself into the car. He cleaned the dash and the wheel and put the wipe into a small plastic bag that lay on the passenger seat. Then he smoothed his trousers and jacket and arranged himself so that he would suffer only the minimum of creasing to his suit. Turning the key in the ignition, he drove off.
He passed Samantha along St Giles; she was cycling among a cluster of other bikes. Taking his time on the route around the city centre and along Cowley Road, he reached Princes Street and parked opposite number 268. Ten minutes later, Samantha appeared at the Cowley Road end of the street and cycled down the narrow road lined with gentrified terraced houses before drawing to a halt outside the one that the Acolyte was watching. There she wheeled her bike onto the path, secured it against the wall of the house and used her own key to open the front door.
According to the schedule, her boyfriend Simon Welding would not be there for at least four hours, and Samantha was planning to study all afternoon. During most of the evening the two of them would be alone. The others who lived at number 268 were expected at a party in a nearby street. At just before 9 p.m. he would enter the premises with his equipment, and he would be out by nine-fifteen. A quarter of an hour after that he would be with the Master — and they would be one step closer to completing the Great Work.
Chapter 13
'So you're really going ahead with this?' Jo asked incredulously.
'Don't be so dismissive. I'm hardly new to crime, now am I? Remember how I put food on the table before I became an illustrious author?' Laura retorted.
Jo was up for the first time since the accident, reclining on Philip's sofa with a rug around her and a cup of soup in her hand. She was wearing cow-patterned pyjamas that were at least three sizes too big for her. The grandfather clock in the hall had just struck six o'clock, and Laura and Philip had finished explaining all that had happened during the past two days up to the point when Laura had gone to visit James Lightman earlier that afternoon.
'Besides,' Laura added breezily, 'I think I've made a breakthrough.'
Philip sat up in his armchair. 'What sort of breakthrough?'
'The results of four hours' intensive research at the Bodleian, that's what. Turns out the coins are replicas of something called an Arkhanon. It's just about the oldest known Egyptian coin, dating from about 400
BC
Before that the Egyptians simply bartered. What's most important is that the Arkhanons were designed by alchemists who worked for the Pharaohs. According to one source, the image of the women and the bowl is linked with the alchemists' obsession with holism — links between seemingly unconnected things.'
'Yes, of course, there were alchemists in ancient Egypt, weren't there? Philip said. 'I seem to remember reading that's when the whole obsession with making gold and the elixir of eternal life began.'
'Mom … I mean. .' Jo frowned. 'Isn't all that alchemy stuff simply a load of baloney?'
'Just hear me out, OK?' Laura said.
Philip and Jo looked at each other and fell silent.
'Good. Well, this is the deal. Turns out that one of the connections alchemists cared about was the link between humanity and the universe. Most alchemists tried to draw parallels between the human body, the planets, the stars and the movement of the heavens. They believed that the human form was a reflection of the celestial sphere. That God created these patterns — these repeat images, if you like — and that it was their job to unravel the links. Almost a sacred duty.'
'And you think this has something to do with the murders?' Philip looked completely confused.
'Alchemists believed they could only make gold if they discovered the legendary Philosopher's Stone, a magical substance that when united with any base metal could turn that metal into pure, solid gold. The Philosopher's Stone could only be discovered by the noble of spirit, by an alchemist who truly understood the holistic aspect of the universe and who could free his mind to flow with the Universal Spirit. Crucially, the alchemist drew links between metals and parts of the body'
'Don't tell me,' Philip interrupted. 'They connected gold with the heart and silver with the brain?'
'Ten bonus points to Mr Bainbridge. But there's a whole heap more. Alchemists believed that the body and the celestial sphere mirror each other. So the planets may also be associated with the organs of the body. .'
'Mom? So let me get this straight,' Jo said. 'You've spent all afternoon finding alchemical links between — God, what was it? Gold, the sun and the freakin' heart? Where does Santa come into all this?'
'The point is,' Laura said, 'there is quite possibly a connection between all this hocus-pocus and the murders. Simply because the murderer believes in it. It doesn't matter if it's all complete bullshit.'
Jo looked rather shamefaced. 'OK, mom. .'
'There's more.' Laura replied. 'If you want to hear it, of course.'
'Oh please!' Jo rolled her eyes.
Laura grinned. 'If you thought what I just told you was weird, here comes the really kooky bit. Some alchemists devoted their entire lives to the thankless task of trying to produce the Philosopher's Stone: blending chemicals together to make a magical substance that they believed could transmute base metals into gold. It has consumed and spat out centuries of hope, from ancient times to. . well, some say there are still alchemists out there today. But the point is, the effort expended to make the Stone was incredible. The adept had to follow a set of instructions that came from many different sources and they spent literally months, sometimes years on a single experiment.'
'Anyway, as I was reading this stuff I started to wonder what it was that guided them. Then I thought about the most important connections the alchemists made and it struck me that most of them must have also been astrologers. I was quite into astrology when I was a student. I snapped out of it pretty quick, though.' Laura stole a glance at Jo who was shaking her head. 'Alchemists did everything by the stars. Each stage of the process was undertaken on particular dates and at significant astrological alignments.'
Laura's audience was silent.
‘For the alchemists, one particular day of the year stands out as the most important. The vernal equinox.'
The what?' Jo asked.
'The vernal equinox, the first day of spring, when the days start to get longer than the nights,' Philip said.
'Correct. Alchemists viewed it as the most auspicious day for starting new plans. It was the time when most of them would begin a fresh set of experiments to produce the Philosopher's Stone. It falls on 20 March, two days ago — the day of the first murder.'
'So what are you thinking, Laura?' Philip asked after a few moments. 'It's, well… creepy, I suppose, but how
