by Jim Eldridge
Although he felt the disappointment of not seeing Lauren that night, even though it was only on a computer screen, he still felt a sense of elation and excitement about what he was planning to do: go to Glastonbury and find one of the hidden books. OK, it was a bit of a wild shot, very chancy, but he wanted to tell her and share that hope with her, even though he knew that if he attempted to, their systems would shut down — email, phone call, Skype, whatever he used. It was so frustrating! If only he could find a way.
He clicked ‘reply’ and began to type:
‘Hiya Sam, Skype this Friday/Saturday will be great — I love the fact that we can actually see one another, and know you’re really there, and not just some figment of my imagination at the end of a keyboard.
Then a thought struck him. Maybe there was a way round the bar on them. And this was a good time to test how far the censoring system worked. He added: 8 at night your time, 8 in the morning mine, will be great, as this Saturday I’m off to do some research into King Arthur and the Holy Grail.
As he typed the words, he felt his chest tighten with nervous apprehension, waiting for his system to shut down . . . but it stayed connected. So far so good. Then, to test it further, he typed in, At Glastonbury.
His whole body tensed, waiting for the familiar ‘click’ and his screen to go blank . . . but the connection stayed up! It had worked! Obviously, Glastonbury was seen as ‘safe’ when it was linked to King Arthur and the Holy Grail. Computer says Yes.
He smiled to himself as he finished typing the rest of his message. Love you, Jake xx
Chapter 7
Jake left his small block of flats the next morning filled with a new sense of determination and purpose. He was going to Glastonbury. He would find one of the buried books. He’d bring Lauren back to England. He was just thinking these thoughts as the driver’s door of the parked car he was passing jerked open, and a tall, tough-looking man in a dark suit got out of the car and stood directly in his path.
‘Get into the car, please,’ he said.
‘What?’ Jake said, bewildered.
Although the man was smartly dressed, there was no mistaking the air of menace about him. Military type, thought Jake hurriedly. Special forces.
‘Into the car, please,’ repeated the man, and he moved a step closer to Jake, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he was about to grab him. Jake stepped back, putting his hands up to defend himself, even though he knew this man could break him in half.
The rear door of the car swung open, nearly hitting Jake, and a cool calm voice said: ‘That won’t be necessary, Edward.’ Then, in a friendly tone, the voice added: ‘I’m here to offer you a lift to work, Jake.’
Jake peered into the back of the large expensive-looking car. Alex Munro, chief of the London office of Pierce Randall, beamed back at him.
‘No thank you,’ said Jake coldly. ‘I think I’d rather take my chances on the buses.’
Munro sighed.
‘Please, Jake. At the moment this is a genuine friendly gesture.’
Despite the smile on Munro’s voice, and the lightness of tone, there was no mistaking the threat, in his ‘at the moment’. Jake looked at the tall, hard-looking man, Edward, who was still standing mutely just within grabbing distance of Jake, poised to pounce if necessary.
‘Come on, Jake,’ said Munro. ‘The buses are so unreliable and crowded these days.’
Jake hesitated, then climbed into the back of the car. Edward shut the rear door behind him, and then got into the front, behind the steering wheel. There was a glass partition between Jake and Munro, and Edward.
‘Relax, Jake.’ Munro smiled. ‘I really am just going to give you a lift to your office.’ He indicated a small cupboard set into the front of the luxurious rear compartment. ‘Can I offer you anything? Tea? Coffee? Juice?’
Jake shook his head.
‘No thank you,’ he said coldly.
The car started up and moved off.
‘So,’ said Jake. ‘What’s so important that it brings the head of the most powerful law firm in Europe to my door?’
‘The most powerful law firm in the world,’ Munro corrected him.
And that was no exaggeration, reflected Jake. Pierce Randall had entered his life after he and Lauren had recovered one of the hidden books. Jake had never been sure how much of his troubles since had been because of Pierce Randall and the power they exerted.
On the surface, they were one of the most respectable and prestigious law firms ever, with branches all over the world. Their clients included most of the top companies and the most powerful governments. But there was another side to their operation, a darker side. Their client list also included international organised crime, as well as dictators and tyrants from some of the worst and most dangerous countries in the world. And, when secret deals were done between the respectable multinational companies and governments, and organised crime or a dubious tyrant, Pierce Randall would be the intermediary, making sure the deals were done with no fuss and no publicity, and the huge financial rewards allocated discreetly, with no trace.
Alex Munro was Head of Operations in Pierce Randall’s London office, which was why Jake was stunned to see him out here, making this visit in person. When Jake had first met Munro, Munro had persuaded Jake that Pierce Randall wanted to find the hidden books of the Order of Malichea for altruistic purposes; to get the scientific information they contained out into the general arena, to help people, to use the new discoveries to save lives. Munro had been very plausible. It was only later that Jake had discovered the real reason that Pierce Randall wanted the hidden books: in two words, power and money. As Jake had told Michelle, if one of the books contained a cure for a previously untreatable terminal illness, whoever found that information and patented it would have a licence to print money. And the weapons potential of some of the sciences that were rumoured to be hidden would give dictators and terrorists power that was too hideous to consider.
Munro settled back into the luxurious leather seats and looked at Jake.
‘You’re suspicious of us, Jake, but you have no reason to be. We’re after the same thing: the secret library.’
‘But for different reasons,’ said Jake. ‘I want it to help the world. You want it to keep it hidden and make money from it.’
Munro sighed and smiled.
‘You sound just like your friend, Ms Graham,’ he said. ‘How is she, by the way? I understand the government shipped her off somewhere, with a new identity. That must be very upsetting for you, to be parted from her in this way.’
He knows, thought Jake. He knows where Lauren is. Pierce Randall know everything. Except where the hidden books are.
Jake kept silent, just looked out through the darkened windows at the streets outside. Munro couldn’t be trusted. Whatever he was here to offer was suspect. But why was he here?
As if reading Jake’s thoughts, Munro said: ‘We can help you get Ms Graham back.’
Jake swung round towards him, suspicious, but alert.
‘She’s in exile,’ he said. ‘The government say she can’t return for ten years. Maybe more.’
Munro smiled.
‘Ah, governments,’ he said, with a sarcastic tone. ‘Governments come and go. Government ministers change at an almost daily rate. We have . . . friends in high places. And, we are used to doing deals at the very top level, as I’m sure you are aware.’
‘Why me?’ asked Jake. ‘You’ve got a big organisation. You can find them yourself. You’ve already got some of them.’
‘Some,’ admitted Munro. ‘But you have something that our own operatives don’t have, Jake. Passion. Desperation. We want to find these books. You need to find them, or at least one, to get your Ms Graham released from exile. Publicise it. Tell the world about it. Get the story about the Order of Malichea out into the open.’
He’s been talking to Michelle, Jake realised, as he heard his own words to Michelle echoed back at him. And then he remembered that
he hadn’t told Michelle why he wanted to get the story about the books into the public domain, just that the story needed to be out there. So maybe Munro hadn’t talked to Michelle after all. It was just Munro, keeping his finger firmly on the pulse of anything to do with Malichea.
‘I’m sure that you will find a book. Maybe more than one. The deal I’m offering you is that you can keep one to do all the publicity you want, but we share it. You keep the actual book, we keep the rights to the information inside it.’
‘To sell it,’ said Jake.
‘We already have clients ready to buy the appropriate technology.’ Munro smiled. Again. ‘And what is wrong with that? A book has a cure for illness, and a drug company puts that into practice and gets it out into the wide world. Millions of lives saved. Another book might have information about anti-gravity. An aerospace company uses that information to make safer planes. Again, millions of lives saved, the world becomes a better place.’
‘Or one book contains previously undiscovered weapons technology and you sell it to a bunch of terrorists or criminals, who then use it to kill millions.’
Munro shrugged.
‘We’re talking morality,’ he said. ‘One person’s life-saver is another person’s destruction. What I’m offering you is an opportunity to get back with your friend.’
Jake fell silent, weighing up Munro’s offer. There was no doubt in his mind that Munro could fix it and get him reunited with Lauren. Maybe not necessarily in England, but that didn’t matter to Jake. He didn’t have any family to miss, no one he was close to, except Lauren. Anywhere in the world would do, as long as he and Lauren were together again. But it was a big price to pay, and he wasn’t sure if Lauren would ever forgive him if she found out that he’d passed one of the books to Pierce Randall, and the science in it had been used for evil purposes.
‘Well?’ asked Munro.
Jake shook his head.
‘No,’ he said.
Munro sighed.
‘You’re making a big mistake, Jake,’ he said. ‘We’ll get most of the books on our own, anyway. I’m offering you a great opportunity.’
‘No,’ said Jake again. ‘You’re using Lauren and me to help yourself and your clients.’
‘Not all our clients are bad people,’ countered Munro.
‘The ones with the real money are,’ said Jake.
Munro fell silent. His smile had gone.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But, if you change your mind, you can always get hold of us.’ And he took out a small business card and passed it to Jake. ‘Remember, you owe us. We got you off that murder rap, gratis.’
‘And there’s no such thing as a free lunch,’ said Jake bitterly.
Munro nodded.
‘I believe that’s what people say,’ he said pleasantly.
Chapter 8
Exactly as Munro had promised, the car dropped Jake off outside the main entrance to the Department of Science. Jake waited until the car had pulled away, then he took out his phone and dialled the number Michelle had given him. His surprise meeting with Munro had given him even more determination to find a book and get it out into public knowledge as fast as he could. Michelle answered straight away.
‘I’ve got the list of potential Arthur sites,’ Jake told her. ‘Can we meet today? I need to talk about them with you before the weekend.’
‘OK, can you come to the office?’ asked Michelle.
‘No problem,’ said Jake. ‘Where is it?’
‘Villiers Street, just off the Strand.’
‘Fine,’ said Jake.
He took the address of the Qo offices from her, and arranged to meet her at 12.30.
They met in the foyer of the building, and they walked down to the small public gardens by the Embankment. Jake gave Michelle the list of sites at Glastonbury he’d marked, while she unpacked her lunch from a plastic box.
‘I’ve taken out all those that are on places that are too public, like the grounds of the abbey itself, or on National Trust land, or where buildings have been put up. All the others are on open land, most of them now farmland, and some of them parks that come under the local council.’
Michelle studied the list thoughtfully as she chewed her sandwich.
‘The problem is: what might happen once we start digging,’ said Jake. ‘We start doing it on public land, the council could turn up and stop us. We do it on private land and we could get caught by the landowner.’
‘That’s not a problem,’ said Michelle confidently. ‘Ignore the council-owned lands and concentrate on those where the land is owned privately. Most landowners are usually happy to let treasure hunters search their land for fifty per cent of the profit of whatever they find. Do you remember that Roman helmet they found in Cumbria recently?’
‘No,’ said Jake.
‘The farmer and the treasure hunter split the profits fifty-fifty,’ said Michelle. ‘The helmet sold for two million. Trust me, any farmer will be happy to let you dig up his land if he thinks there might be that kind of money at the end of it.’ She studied the list again. ‘We need to find out who these bits of land belong to and get in touch with them. Tell them we’re archaeological treasure hunters looking for stuff about King Arthur, and we’ll share the proceeds of anything we find.’ She frowned thoughtfully. ‘The trouble will be finding out who owns what. We need planning info, and that can take time.’
Suddenly Jake thought of Robert, Lauren’s cousin, the architect. He was always involved in planning issues.
‘I think I may know someone who can get that information,’ he said.
‘Before the weekend?’ queried Michelle.
‘Yes,’ said Jake.
He said this confidently, because he knew that Robert was almost as keen as he was to get Lauren back to England.
‘Good,’ said Michelle. She smiled. ‘We have a plan.’
Jake waited until Michelle had left to go back to her office before he phoned Robert.
‘Robert,’ he said, ‘it’s Jake.’
‘Jake! How are you?’ boomed Robert’s voice cheerfully in his ear. ‘Long time no speak!’
‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Jake apologised. ‘I kept meaning to get in touch, but things seemed to keep turning up.’
‘No problem!’ said Robert. ‘We’re talking now.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Jake. ‘Actually, Robert, I wondered if we could meet up.’
Something in Jake’s tone must have alerted Robert that this wasn’t just a social call, because he hesitated before replying: ‘Yes, of course.’ Although his voice was just as cheerful as before, Jake could hear a note of caution in it, but knew that luckily Robert was smart enough not to blurt out anything over the phone. They’d already learnt that it was very easy for people to bug their phone conversations.
‘How about after work today?’ suggested Jake.
‘Excellent!’ said Robert. ‘You know the Pret a Manger in Oxford Street, the one at the Tottenham Court Road end?’
‘Yes,’ said Jake.
‘Half past five?’
‘Great,’ said Jake. ‘I’ll see you then.’
As he hung up, he thought: clever Robert. He’d worked out that whatever Jake wanted to talk to him about concerned Lauren, and they wouldn’t want their conversation overheard. So he’d chosen a nice but obvious location, a fairly noisy café, where any opposition would get there first to eavesdrop on them. And, once they’d met up, Jake and Robert would head elsewhere, to a place it would be difficult to have their conversation listened to. Not impossible — Jake had already discovered that conversations could be listened to any place anywhere, such was the power of modern surveillance technology. But at least he and Robert would make it difficult for any listeners.
Robert was waiting at Pret a Manger when Jake arrived.
‘Coffees?’ asked Jake.
‘Later,’ said Robert. ‘There’s this fabulous jazz CD I want to get first. We can grab a coffee afterwards.’
Jake follow
ed Robert out of the coffee bar and they headed westwards along Oxford Street.
‘HMV,’ announced Robert. ‘We’ll try there first. If they haven’t got it, there’s a specialist shop I know in Soho we can try.’
As they walked, they talked, just like two old friends catching up. Which, of course, they were, but in this case their mutual point of contact was Lauren, and the hidden library of Malichea. Like Jake, Robert had been in contact with Lauren in New Zealand, Skyping and emailing.
‘She seems to be settling in there all right,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ agreed Jake, not wholly enthusiastically.
‘She misses you, though,’ said Robert.
‘Does she?’ said Jake, cheering up.
‘It’s a pity you can’t go over there and see her,’ said Robert.
Jake sighed.
‘The powers-that-be are determined that she and I will never be in the same country again,’ he said gloomily. ‘Not even on the same continent.’ Then he added in a whisper: ‘But I’ve got a plan to change that.’
‘I thought you might have,’ said Robert. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m going to find one of the books and go public with it. Once I’ve done that they won’t be able to keep the Order of Malichea secret, and they’ll let Lauren come back.’
Robert didn’t look convinced.
‘Are you sure of that?’ he asked doubtfully.
‘Pretty sure.’ Jake nodded. ‘After all, why are they keeping her in New Zealand? To stop her finding any of the books and letting the world know about them. So I’m going to do it for her.’
Robert thought it over as they walked, and finally he asked: ‘How?’