by Jim Eldridge
‘Can I just confirm that you are Mr Jacob Wells?’ she said to Jake.
‘You know I am,’ said Jake. ‘I showed you my driving licence when you asked me, right at the start when you got here.’
‘I’ve been told to advise you to report to Holloway Road police station immediately,’ she said. ‘I must advise you that failure to do so could result in a warrant being issued for your arrest.’
‘But what about the man in the car? Guy de Courcey! He was being abducted at gunpoint! What about us being run off the road!’
‘Our colleagues at Holloway Road will be dealing with those issues,’ said the policewoman.
‘This is crazy!’ said Lauren. ‘A man’s life is in danger . . .’
‘As I said, our colleagues at Holloway Road will be dealing with those issues once you report there,’ repeated the policewoman. ‘And I would advise you to get there as soon as you can.’
The male police officer gestured to the broken headlamp on Jake and Lauren’s car.
‘I would also advise you to get that fixed as soon as possible,’ he said. ‘Driving a car in that condition is an offence.’ He pulled out a small notepad, and filled in a form, which he tore off from the pad and handed to Jake. ‘This is an official notice under the Traffic Act ordering you to have that fixed within forty-eight hours.’
Jake looked at the form. On it he’d written their car registration number, the date, and details about the broken headlight.
‘I don’t believe this!’ Jake burst out angrily. ‘A man has been kidnapped at gunpoint, and you’re giving me a traffic ticket!’
‘Our colleagues at Holloway Road station will deal with any other issues,’ said the policewoman.
With that, the two officers walked to their patrol car, got in and drove away.
‘I don’t believe it!’ repeated Jake. He screwed up the traffic citation and threw it away at the moving police car.
Beside him, Lauren sighed.
‘Better watch out they don’t come back and nick you for littering,’ she said.
Jake scowled. He knew Lauren was cracking a joke to try to make him feel better, but he was so angry he didn’t feel like laughing.
‘What now?’ he muttered.
‘I guess we head back to Holloway Road.’ In a hopeful voice, she added, ‘Who knows? Maybe they’ve got news about Guy?’
Chapter 13
The gridlock of traffic on the M25 was such that it was over two hours before Jake and Lauren finally arrived at Holloway Road police station. There, the desk sergeant put in a call, and Detective Inspector Bullen appeared in reception. He glared at them, and gestured for them to follow him. They walked along the corridor to the same interview room where Bullen had questioned Jake before. This time, though, there was no official caution; no tape running; no other accompanying officers. Bullen pointed at two chairs side by side at a table. Jake and Lauren sat down, and Bullen took a chair opposite. The detective inspector still hadn’t said anything and now he spoke, his tone a mixture of anger and frustration.
‘What the hell is your game?’ he demanded.
‘It’s no game!’ protested Lauren. ‘We saw Guy de Courcey being put into a car at gunpoint . . .’
‘And you gave chase and then were run off the road by some mystery car,’ said Bullen curtly. ‘Yes, I know. I got the report through from Kent.’
‘Then why aren’t you out searching for him?’ demanded Jake. ‘Why drag us in like we’re the culprits?’
‘I don’t need to search for Lord Guy de Courcey,’ said Bullen grimly. ‘I know exactly where he is. Or, rather, where he was an hour ago.’
‘Where?’ asked Lauren.
‘He was at Bromley police station in south London, talking to me on the telephone,’ said Bullen. ‘He’d gone there with his legal representative, to his nearest police station, at my request, as soon as I received word of the allegations you were making.’
Jake and Lauren stared at the detective inspector, stunned.
‘But . . .’ began Jake.
‘There are no “buts”,’ said Bullen firmly. ‘All this talk about him being kidnapped by gunmen is a load of eyewash. Lord de Courcey told us that he was in no danger of any sort.’
‘But . . . but,’ stammered Jake.
‘He was at de Courcey Hall!’ exploded Lauren. ‘We can prove it! Check the CCTV cameras there!’
‘He’s quite happy to admit that he was at de Courcey Hall today, but not under duress. He went with his solicitors to see someone he knew, an old friend of the family, who’d agreed to be a character witness for him. De Courcey Hall was a convenient place for them to meet. As his visit wouldn’t be in breach of his bail conditions, his solicitors were happy to take him. That’s it. End of story.’
‘Whoever he was with, they weren’t solicitors!’ snapped Jake. ‘Not unless solicitors are walking around wearing hoodies and tracksuits!’
‘And then there were the Mexicans!’ burst out Lauren.
‘Mexicans?’ queried Bullen.
‘They took us prisoner and threatened to kill us unless we told them where Guy was!’
‘When was this?’ demanded Bullen.
‘Yesterday,’ said Lauren.
‘And you’ve decided to tell us this now?’ asked Bullen, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
‘We wanted to get hold of The Index first,’ said Jake. ‘That’s why we went to de Courcey Hall.’
Bullen glowered at them.
‘That’s enough from you two!’ he growled. ‘I don’t know what your game is, but right now I could have you both thrown into the cells and charged with wasting police time. But I choose not to, because I have more important things to do, like solving the murder of Alex Munro. You, Mr Wells, should be treading very carefully.’
‘I didn’t kill him!’ protested Jake. ‘I’m innocent!’
‘Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it. Stunts like this, it’s almost like you want to keep reminding me you’re here. What is it? Some sort of psychological game? Playing with the police?’
‘No!’
Bullen shook his head, his face grim.
‘I haven’t got time for this. You’re lucky I don’t lock you up for wasting police time. Now get out!’
The man smiled to himself. It was working perfectly. Jake and Lauren were running around like headless chickens, getting themselves into all sorts of trouble. And all the time their credibility was being destroyed. As far as the police were concerned, the finger of suspicion was pointing even more firmly at Jake. Excellent. Now all he had to do was draw them in, like a spider pulling a fly into its web.
The problem was, they seemed no nearer to finding The Index, and his plan depended on them being pushed by desperation on to its trail, with him following in the shadows, ready to pounce.
Perhaps they needed a bit more of a push.
In the meantime, there was another trail to follow, one he should have thought of before, and he kicked himself mentally for not having thought of it sooner. He had to make a move on that.
He pulled the knife from the secret pocket in the back of his coat and clicked it open. No guns for this one. A blade. Quieter. It would draw less attention in a public place. And a blade was always terrifyingly effective.
Jake and Lauren left the police station in angry silence.
‘Pierce Randall are making us look like idiots,’ said Jake. ‘They’ve got hold of Guy and they’re keeping him prisoner until they get what they want out of him.’
‘The kid with the gun didn’t look like the usual Pierce Randall type.’
‘There is no usual Pierce Randall type,’ said Jake sourly. ‘Businessmen, thieves, gangsters, politicians, skinheads, celebrities. They’ll get in with anyone.’
‘True,’ agreed Lauren. ‘But they were taking a chance bringing him along to a police station. Say he suddenly asked for help while he was there?’
‘Pierce Randall know what they’re doing,’ said Jake. ‘I expect they c
onvinced Guy that if he tried anything, he’d be killed. Not there and then, but later. And Guy has had enough involvement with criminals to know when they mean business.’
Lauren was silent for a moment, then she asked, her tone thoughtful, ‘You don’t think he’s involved in this himself, do you? Part of it?’
‘Guy?’
‘He admitted to you he’s not the most honest of people. If there’s a scam of some sort, he could well be part of it. Maybe even running it.’
Jake shook his head.
‘That teenager we saw was holding a gun on him.’
Lauren let out another sigh and nodded.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said.
‘One thing’s for sure, we can’t involve the police again,’ said Jake. ‘Whatever we say, Pierce Randall will just claim we’re inventing it, they’ll force Guy to back them up, and we’ll both end up charged with wasting police time.’
‘At least we know that Guy is safe,’ said Lauren.
‘Safe?’ queried Jake with a sarcastic laugh. ‘Being driven around at gunpoint?’
‘Pierce Randall need to keep him alive,’ continued Lauren. ‘They may be keeping him hostage, but they’re not going to kill him. They want The Index, and they see him as the key to getting their hands on it.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Jake doubtfully. ‘Maybe they’ve already got it?’
Lauren frowned.
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ she mused.
‘Nah.’ Jake shook his head, dismissing that thought. ‘If The Index had still been at the hall, Guy possibly could have got hold of it, but when we saw him, Guy didn’t look like a man who’d just got his hands on a billion pounds.’
‘Maybe that’s because he had a gun on him,’ said Lauren.
‘Yes, but if they’d found The Index at de Courcey Hall, Pierce Randall wouldn’t have any more use for Guy. So they’d either turn him loose, or bump him off. Yet, instead, they turned up with him at the police station; still keeping a tight hold on him.’
‘So you don’t think they’ve got The Index yet?’
‘Call it a gut feeling.’
‘In which case, if it isn’t at the hall, where is it?’ asked Lauren.
Jake fell silent, thinking hard. There was something nudging at the back of his mind, a memory, something Guy had said when they were in the cell together. Suddenly he remembered what it was, and he burst out excitedly, ‘Hapgood, Ainsworth and Ainsworth!’
Lauren looked at him, baffled.
‘Who?’ she asked. ‘That sounds like a firm of solicitors.’
‘That’s exactly who they are!’ cried Jake. ‘They’re Guy’s solicitors. Or, at least, his solicitors before Pierce Randall. They’re the de Courcey family solicitors!’
‘I still don’t get it,’ said Lauren, frowning.
‘When we were in the cell, Guy told me that his father had sold everything to clear the family’s debts.’
‘I thought you said the place was given to the National Trust.’
‘It was.’ Jake nodded. ‘So what was likely to have been sold?’
‘Paintings?’
Jake shook his head.
‘I bet they’re still at the hall,’ he said. ‘Any paintings are usually part of the history that goes with the place. Portraits of the family, that kind of thing.’
Lauren looked at Jake, her face filling with excitement at the implication of what Jake was saying.
‘The books in the library!’ she said.
‘The old and rare books, anyway,’ said Jake. ‘And Guy wouldn’t have known which books had been sold because he was out of the country at the time.’
‘So how do we find out?’
Jake had his iPhone out and was already searching the internet as he said, ‘We have a word with Hapgood, Ainsworth and Ainsworth.’
Chapter 14
The building that housed the firm of Hapgood, Ainsworth and Ainsworth, of Sevenoaks in Kent, looked as if it had been there for 500 years; and possibly housing that same firm of solicitors during all that time.
Jake held open the door and Lauren stepped in, straight into the sound of raised voices. Or, rather, one raised voice, that of a girl of about fifteen, while the older woman she was talking to tried to calm her down.
‘I won’t be put off!’ shouted the girl. ‘I want to see Mr Ainsworth!’
‘And I’ve told you that Mr Ainsworth is busy,’ said the woman, clearly the receptionist. She turned to Jake and Lauren and said, ‘Yes? Can I help you?’
‘Lauren Graham and Jake Wells,’ said Lauren. ‘We have an appointment with Mr Ainsworth.’
‘About de Courcey Hall,’ added Jake. ‘We spoke on the phone.’
Before the receptionist could reply, the young girl turned to Jake and Lauren and burst out angrily, ‘They’re a bunch of crooks, all of them! And this lot are as bad, protecting them!’
The woman’s face tightened.
‘I’m afraid I must ask you to leave, or I will call the police,’ she said.
‘Call them!’ challenged the girl. ‘It’s about time the police investigated what’s going on!’
‘That kind of talk is slander,’ said the woman primly. ‘And saying it in front of witnesses could land you in serious trouble. Very serious trouble.’
The girl glared back. She seemed to be on the point of saying something, but instead she scowled, turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind her.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ said the receptionist.
‘Who was she?’ asked Jake, intrigued. The girl obviously had some involvement with the hall.
‘I’m afraid she’s just a disturbed young woman with an imagined grievance.’
The woman pressed a button on the intercom on her desk, and announced, ‘Mr Ainsworth. It’s Mr Wells and Ms Graham to see you.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Ward,’ Jake and Lauren heard the man’s voice say. ‘Please send them up.’
Mrs Ward clicked off the intercom and gestured towards a flight of stairs at the back of the small reception area.
‘First floor,’ she said. ‘Mr Ainsworth will be waiting for you.’
Jake and Lauren mounted the dark wooden stairs that seemed to be as old as the rest of the building, with the same unevenness. A man in his fifties was waiting for them at the top of the landing, and he shook their hands, and then ushered them into his small office.
‘You said on the phone this was about the de Courcey estate,’ he said. ‘Are you involved in some way with the estate?’
‘Possibly,’ said Jake. ‘We’re here following a meeting we had with Guy de Courcey.’
‘Ah yes, Mr Guy. Or, as he is now, Lord de Courcey, the new earl.’ Ainsworth nodded. ‘I must admit I had been disappointed not to have heard from him since he returned to the UK.’
‘You mean he hasn’t been in touch with you at all?’ pressed Lauren.
Ainsworth shook his head.
‘In fact, I wouldn’t have even known he was back in the country if it wasn’t for the fact that a firm called Pierce Randall contacted me to advise me that he was transferring his personal business to them.’
‘That must have been disappointing for you,’ said Lauren sympathetically.
Ainsworth looked at her quizzically.
‘Possibly,’ he said. ‘Although it has to be said that representing Mr Guy has sometimes been quite . . . involving.’
‘Like getting him out of foreign prisons.’ Jake grinned.
If he’d hoped this would warm the solicitor towards them, Jake was mistaken. Instead, Ainsworth gave Jake a cold, disapproving look.
‘I’m not at liberty to discuss personal details about our clients,’ he said sharply.
‘No, of course not,’ said Jake quickly. ‘I apologise. It’s just that when I met Guy, he was very happy to tell me about his exploits abroad, and how you’d got him out of various scrapes.’
‘Did he,’ said Ainsworth, his tone neutral. ‘Might I ask the circumst
ances in which you met Mr Guy?’
As Jake could already feel Ainsworth’s disapproval after his attempt at jokey banter, he decided it would be best not to tell the solicitor that he and Guy had met in a police cell, accused of conspiring to murder someone. Instead, he said, ‘Oh, just socially.’
‘If it is about Mr Guy you’ve come to see me, I must repeat that I’m not at liberty to divulge any details . . .’
‘No, no,’ said Lauren, nodding. ‘It’s actually about the library at de Courcey Hall.’
‘The library?’
‘Yes. Or, rather, the books in it. Guy told us that just before his father gave the house to the National Trust, he sold some of the books in the library.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about the sale of any of the contents of de Courcey Hall. Or, even, if any such sales took place. Client confidentiality, you understand.’
‘Yes, we understand that,’ said Lauren. ‘But it’s not the details of the sale, as far as it affects the de Courcey family, that we’re after. It’s a particular book we’re trying to trace.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. Two books. The Journal of the Order of Malichea, and The Index of the same Order. We believe they were in the library of de Courcey Hall.’
Ainsworth shook his head.
‘I’m very sorry, but, as I said, due to client confidentiality I can’t give you any details of any items sold. However, I am still the solicitor for the estate. I will endeavour to contact the current earl and ask for his permission to speak to you.’
‘I don’t think Guy is in much of a position to talk freely at the moment,’ commented Jake with a sigh.
Ainsworth frowned.
‘Why do you say that?’ he asked.
Jake caught Lauren’s eye, and her slight but meaningful shake of the head, and her lips closing tightly.
Jake shrugged.
‘I just meant that I imagine he’s pretty busy at the moment. However, if you do talk to him, we would be grateful if you’d pass on our message.’
Outside on the street, Jake let out a heartfelt groan.
‘Well, that was a complete waste of time coming here!’ he sighed heavily. ‘We could have been told all that on the phone!’