by N. J. Croft
“Thank you for last night,” she said.
He shrugged, and she got the impression he didn’t like her. Though possibly “like” was the wrong word. Didn’t trust her, maybe.
“Callum brought some things from the house. I thought you might need clothes and your bag.”
Jenna glanced down to see her black overnight bag on the floor at Callum’s feet. On top of it was her handbag. She gave a sigh; this would make things easier. The letter from her father was in there.
“Good. There’s something I wanted to show you.”
Picking up her bag, she opened it one-handed and found the letter. After reading her father’s words one last time, she gave it to Luke.
“My father left this with a solicitor, to be sent to me in case of his death.” She watched as Luke scanned the letter. “That’s the first time I’d ever heard of Descartes or Professor Merrick.”
“And the names mean nothing to you?”
“Nothing, but my father was a very private person. I tried to contact Professor Merrick, but he was away at a conference. He should be back now.”
“Did you tell anyone about this?”
Guilt flooded her. Biting her lip, she glanced away. She didn’t want to talk about it, as though speaking the words aloud would lay the blame squarely at her feet.
“Jenna?”
“I told David. You think that’s why they came after him? Something to do with this?” She gestured toward the paper. “That makes no sense at all. How would they have found out?”
“David probably did an internet search. These days, it’s easy to flag certain words. If somebody were monitoring Descartes or this professor, they would have picked up his search. After that, it’s simple to trace to an IP address.”
Could that be what had happened? But it didn’t explain why. What was Descartes that it would make them come after an innocent man? Torture him? Murder him?
Her appetite vanished. She pushed her plate away but picked up her coffee to give herself time to think. Luke and Callum watched her intently, their faces equally expressionless.
It occurred to Jenna that Luke could have also made the same connection to David. Until she remembered the photo of Luke with his “cousin.” But wouldn’t that be easy to fake? Thinking like this would make her crazy.
The truth was, last night Luke had saved her, and while she didn’t entirely trust his motivations, she trusted him. “Is your only interest in this to find David’s killers and bring them to justice?”
“Basically. And I want to understand why he died.”
“What about the men who attacked me last night? Weren’t they responsible for David?”
“They were minions. Just carrying out orders, and none of them is talking.”
“What happened to them?”
“Callum handed them over to the security forces last night.”
“Not the police?”
“No,” he said. “My company has connections with some of the intelligence agencies. We do a lot of government contracts. They’ll coordinate with the police.”
“So, do you know what Descartes is?”
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. He glanced at Callum and shrugged. “No.”
“But you have your suspicions?” There were things he wasn’t telling her, and she pressed for a response.
He looked again at Callum before he replied. “We think it might be some sort of code for an imminent terrorist attack.”
Her mouth fell open. “Terrorist attack? What sort of attack?”
“We suspect biological. We’re not sure, but that would give us a tie-in with Merrick, who’s a biochemist.”
She slammed her cup down on the table. “That doesn’t make sense. What would my father have to do with an imminent terrorist attack? He was a GP. Besides, have you seen the date on the letter? Seven years ago. Hardly ‘imminent,’ and the seven years coincides with Professor Merrick taking up the post at Cambridge University. I think my father must have updated the letter, so chances are this goes back much further.”
Luke shrugged. “Maybe it is a coincidence, and your Descartes is something completely unrelated.”
She wanted to believe that so badly. “You don’t think that’s the case, do you?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.” His tone was gentle but firm.
“Will these people come after me again?”
“I think we have to assume that.”
A shiver prickled across her skin when she glanced down at her bandaged hand. “How can I stop them?”
“The only way you’ll be safe is if we find out who’s behind this, who ordered David’s murder. For now, you stay close, and we’ll protect you.”
“Maybe I should go to the police.”
“It’s your choice, but you’ll be safer with us. We suspect this organization has contacts everywhere.”
This whole thing was crazy and getting crazier by the minute. She needed a dose of reality. “I have to go in to work.”
“I’ve already called you in sick. They’re not expecting you anytime soon.”
She opened her mouth to argue but clamped it shut as she saw the sense of it. There was also her clinic appointment; she’d have to phone and rearrange it. That reminded her of something. “Last night, you told me you’d found a lab report about my medication. Do you have it?”
“Yes, it’s in the paperwork we brought from David’s place.”
Luke got up and left the room. He came back a few minutes later with a file and handed her a piece of paper.
Someone—David perhaps—had highlighted a paragraph:
Analysis incomplete, unidentified substance presumed due to contamination. Please send new sample for reanalysis.
Her shoulders slumping, she sat back and closed her eyes. There were no more samples to send.
“Bad news?” Luke asked.
“Disappointing. I’d hoped…” Her illness would have to wait until she solved the much more pressing problem of who wanted her dead. “What do we do next?”
“The first thing is to set up a meeting with the professor. In the meantime, I think we should go back to your father’s house, see if we can’t find anything that might lead us to Descartes.”
He turned to Callum. “You know what you have to do?”
Callum grunted. “I’ll get on it.” After one last long look at Jenna, he left the room.
Jenna waited until the door shut behind him. “I don’t think he trusts me.”
“Callum doesn’t trust anybody, but he’s a good man.” Luke smiled. “Actually, he’s impressed by the way you took out one of those guys last night. He thinks you’re tough, and that’s a quality he admires.”
A shiver coursed through her. “I don’t feel tough.” She fiddled with her mug, staring at the table while she studied him through lowered lashes. “Thank you for staying with me last night.”
A brief flicker of discomfort flashed across his features, and she looked at him with interest. She guessed he wasn’t a man who offered comfort often.
Finally, he shrugged, and his face returned to its normal impassive facade. “You’d been through a terrible experience. You shouldn’t have been alone.”
“Well, whatever the reason—thank you.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You sure you want to go in there alone?” Luke asked.
They’d come to a halt in the corridor, outside Merrick’s suite of offices.
“I think I have to,” she said. “If I give him my father’s letter and he knows I’ve already shown it to someone else, he’s not going to trust me.”
Luke pushed open the door. “I’ll wait for you out here. And I’ll be listening. You don’t like anything he says or does, then just speak my name and I’ll be in there.”
She nodded. H
e’d already fitted her with an earpiece and microphone so he could listen in on the conversation. She’d felt a little silly at the time, but now she was glad.
The door led into a reception room, which was empty. Beyond that was a second door, which presumably led to the professor’s office. Luke had arranged the meeting, telling the secretary that she represented a security company with a government contract to carry out research into possible biological threats and Merrick had been recommended as a specialist. The incentive of a large fee had ensured the meeting.
She tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a reply. The office was huge, with a large oak desk across one corner and windows overlooking a courtyard below.
The professor rose to his feet as she crossed the room. A short man, probably around her father’s age, somewhere in his mid-fifties, with faded blond hair and pale gray eyes that didn’t reflect the professional smile pasted on his thin lips. He held out a hand as she came to a halt in front of the desk. Jenna stared but forced herself to take it, though she made the contact as brief as possible. Something about him repelled her.
She sat and wondered briefly where to begin.
Merrick started to fidget. “Would you like coffee? Tea?”
“No.”
He picked up a pen from the desk then put it down. “I believe you’re exploring research possibilities for potential biological warfare products?”
Jenna ignored the question. “Professor, I think you knew my father, Dr. Jonathon Young?”
The man pursed his lips as he thought. “No, I’m afraid I know no one of that name.”
“He suggested I come to see you and said I was to mention the word ‘Descartes.’”
The result was instantaneous. His jaw dropped open, his eyes widened, and he made a small choking sound. The damage was done, although he pulled himself together quickly and cleared his throat. “Descartes? I have no clue to what you’re referring.”
Jenna pulled the letter out of her bag and laid it on the desk in front of her. “Professor Merrick, my father died recently. He left me this.”
His brow furrowed. To Jenna, he appeared genuinely confused. “I don’t know any Jonathon Young. I’ve never heard the name before. Could I read the letter?”
She nodded and Merrick unfolded the paper she slid across the desk. As he read the words, his frown deepened. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what this is about.” He glanced up at Jenna. “Your father mentions you’re ill. Could I ask the nature of your illness?”
“It’s a genetic condition, related to Huntington’s disease.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how I could be of help. I’ve never worked in that field.”
Jenna slumped in her seat and stared at her hands clenched in her lap. She’d expected so many answers from this meeting, and defeat left a sour taste in her mouth. He had to know something. She raised her head and held his gaze. “And you don’t know anything about Descartes?”
He appeared to think for a few moments. “You know, it might ring a vague bell. I think I was involved in a project by that name over twenty-five years ago. But I can’t remember the details.”
“Please…think. It’s important.”
Something flickered in his eyes as he studied her. Jenna couldn’t define the emotion; curiosity, disbelief, a dawning dismay? Finally, he shook his head as though to dismiss whatever unpleasant thought had crossed his mind. Frustration welled up inside her, and she wanted to scream at him to tell her what he knew, how he had known her father, but she clamped her lips closed to keep the words in.
“Please, professor. Anything you can tell me…”
Merrick licked his lips. “I may have some old files at home. If you leave a contact number, I’ll see if I can find some information.”
As she took out a business card and placed it on the desk in front of him, the professor regained some of his composure. “Now, I don’t know why you saw fit to lie your way into this interview, but I really must ask you to leave.”
Forcing down her frustration, Jenna picked up the letter from the desk, shoved it back in her bag, and rose to her feet. “I’m aware you know more than you’re telling me.”
“I assure you—”
A wave of her hand cut him off. “I’m ill. I’ve lived with the knowledge all my life. But without my medication, I’ll die. I don’t understand any of this, why my father sent me to you rather than a doctor, but he must have had his reasons. Until I find out what they are, I can’t move on.”
At the door, she glanced back. The man appeared in shock, his face gray.
“Please,” she said. “Just call me if you remember anything, anything at all.”
His head shook in denial. “You don’t understand—I can’t help you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jenna trembled slightly as she handed the earpiece back to Luke. There was a tightness in her chest, and she rubbed the back of her neck to ease the tension. “What a total waste of time.”
“Not necessarily. Come on, we’ll get some lunch and maybe, given time, the professor will decide he remembers something.”
Luke tucked the earpiece in his pocket and led her off the university grounds and along the river. It was a glorious day, the sky clear and the trees along the riverbank were just changing color.
They found a small restaurant with views over the river and chose a table by the window. Luke ordered drinks while Jenna studied the menu. She glanced up to find him watching her.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Actually, fine.” It was true. The pain in her hand had faded to a dull ache. Her head was clear.
Sitting here, sipping a glass of cold mineral water, everything seemed so normal. It was hard to remember the horror of the night before.
There was an unspoken decision between them that they wouldn’t discuss Merrick until after they’d finished eating. Luke seemed to take on another persona—a suave, witty companion—and she allowed him to do so. They ordered salmon and strawberries and talked of nothing important while they ate.
He was very good at not giving anything away. And afterward, she sat back, filled with an urge to find out more about him, how his mind worked. “Tell me how you got involved in all this. I mean, I know you’re after David’s killers, but how did you get into the security business?”
“Perhaps one day I’ll tell you. But not right now—it’s not suitable conversation over lunch. Tell me about you and David instead.”
“We were friends, that’s all.”
“But he wanted to be more?”
“David was a nice guy, too nice, and he was looking for something more serious than I’m willing to give.”
“Why? You’re a beautiful woman.”
Jenna glanced at Luke before she answered. She hated to talk about her illness, but maybe he needed to know the situation. “I have a genetic illness.”
“So?”
“I don’t do relationships.”
“Neither do I.”
They were both loners, it seemed. While she knew and understood her reasons, she couldn’t help but wonder what had made Luke the man he was. She studied him as the waiter cleared their plates and brought coffee, but his face gave nothing away. Jenna stirred her coffee and gazed out the window. They had to plan their next move, though she was reluctant to bring up the professor again.
“So, what did you make of Merrick?”
“He was lying.”
His words confirmed what she had thought as well. “But why?”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he’s aware that anyone who mentions Descartes ends up dead.”
It was a stupid question, when you considered what had happened in the last few days, but she couldn’t believe her father would have deliberately put her in danger. She swallowed the last of her coffee and slammed the
cup down. The action jolted her finger, and she winced as pain shot up her arm. “Perhaps we should go back and torture him. Break a few fingers.”
“I was considering it.”
Even studying his face, she couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not.
“You don’t mean that?” She hated the fact that it was a question, but what did she really know about this man?
“No, we won’t go back and torture him. We’ll give him a little time to come to his senses.” A flicker of amusement flashed across his face as he finished the last of his coffee. “And if he doesn’t—then we’ll torture him.”
“So how will we know if he comes to his senses?”
“He’ll call and tell you he’s remembered something. Or there’s always the bug I had someone place in his office. Chances are he’s sitting in his big leather chair right now burning up with the need to talk to someone about Descartes.”
“What if he emails instead of phones?”
“I have someone tapping into his IP address. And I called Callum. We’ll have a tail on the professor the moment he leaves.”
Jenna stared at him in disbelief. Somehow she’d wandered into a world that had previously existed only in movies and TV. How often had she wished for a little more excitement in her life? Now she wasn’t so sure.
“And if we don’t hear from him,” Luke continued, “we’ll pay him a visit together. See if we can’t persuade him to see the error of his ways.”
Either way, it appeared she hadn’t seen the last of Merrick. Stretching her legs beneath the table, Jenna tried to ease the ache of restlessness, the twitching of her nerves. The feeling was a familiar one; she needed to run or work out at the gym but had no idea when she would get the chance.
Luke’s cell phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. He listened for a minute without speaking, his brows drawing together in a frown, and then he disconnected and put the cell on the table between them.
“Merrick’s on the move, and he’s made a stop. He’s using a public phone. Either he’s calling you, or calling someone else, and he doesn’t want to be overheard. He’s cleverer than we thought.”