by Jim Eldridge
With that, he went into one of the rooms off the hallway.
Jez and Ronnie ushered Jake in, then shut the door, but it didn’t shut out the noise of the music from next door.
‘Doesn’t Benjy complain about the noise?’ asked Jake.
‘Well, officially this flat is empty,’ said Jez. ‘And if Benjy complained they’d find out he was, like, livin’ here, and then they’d kick him out. And they’d also find out about everyone else who’s living here, too, and kick them out.’
Jake frowned.
‘Everybody else?’ he asked. ‘How many?’
‘That depends on who’s around at any one time,’ said Ronnie.
‘So you two live here?’ asked Jake.
Jez shook his head.
‘We don’t live anywhere,’ he said. ‘We just stay with friends now and then.’
Jake looked at them. They seemed to be about fifteen.
‘You’re runaways,’ he said, startled at the sudden realisation.
Ronnie looked at him angrily, and then turned to Jez.
‘I told you it was a mistake helping him,’ she said.
‘No,’ Jake assured them. ‘You can trust me. I won’t say anything.’
‘You say that now, but what about when you get out of this flat?’ demanded Ronnie. ‘For all we know you go runnin’ to the police!’
‘That ain’t likely, Ronnie,’ pointed out Jez. ‘He’s on the run, remember.’
‘Yeah, but he might try and cut a deal. Sell us out to get himself off the hook.’
In spite of himself, Jake couldn’t help smiling at her accusation.
‘Really, you don’t need to worry,’ he said. ‘That is so not me!’
‘Oh yeah?’ demanded Ronnie, still angry. ‘How we know? You, with your good clothes and the way you talk.’ Angrily, she turned on Jez. ‘Why we helpin’ this fool again?’ she demanded.
‘Because I got a feelin’ about him,’ said Jez defensively. ‘He’s OK. He’s just a guy in need of help. He’s clean.’
Ronnie shook her head.
‘You said that before, and look what happened. We nearly ended up back in the home . . .’ Then she realised what she’d said and shut up abuptly, whirling back to glare defiantly at Jake.
They’re runaways from a children’s home, realised Jake.
‘I won’t say anything,’ he said. ‘I know what some of those places can be like. Children’s homes. Foster homes.’
Jez hesitated, then shook his head.
‘You don’t know,’ he grunted.
‘Oh, but I do,’ countered Jake.
Ronnie looked at him scornfully.
‘Yeah, from things you read in the papers and see on the TV,’ she snapped at him angrily. ‘But that ain’t the same as livin’ it!’
‘But I did live it,’ said Jake quietly. ‘I was raised in foster homes, some good, some bad, some I never even wish to think about ever again.’
Jez and Ronnie looked at Jake, astonished.
‘You serious?’ asked Jez.
Jake nodded.
‘What happened?’ asked Ronnie. ‘You taken into care?’
‘No,’ said Jake. ‘I never knew my parents. Never knew who they were. I was left on the doorstep of a police station with a note saying “Please look after him”. They reckon I was about three months old.’
Jez and Ronnie stared at him, stunned expressions on their faces.
‘So you know the system,’ said Ronnie, awed.
‘Yep,’ said Jake.
‘You never find out who your ma was?’ asked Jez.
Jake shook his head.
‘At first I never asked, I just got on with it. There were too many other things to worry about, like staying away from the bad kids in the home.’
‘Tell us about it!’ nodded Ronnie in fervent agreement.
‘Then I got farmed out to foster homes.’ He smiled at a memory. ‘There was one couple, they were really nice. Mr and Mrs Danvers. John and Mary. They were really good. Kind. They looked after me.’
‘How old were you then?’
‘Eleven,’ said Jake.
‘Why didn’t you stay with them?’ asked Ronnie.
‘Maybe he did,’ put in Jez.
‘No,’ said Jake sadly. ‘They both died from cancer. Her first, then him. So I got taken away and sent to someone else.’ His expression darkened. ‘It’s always worse when you’ve been somewhere good, and then it gets snatched away and you end up somewhere really bad. Anyway, I ended up back at the home, and then got sent out a few more times, and then back to the home, until I was sixteen, when I left.’
‘That’s what me and Ronnie gonna do,’ nodded Jez. ‘We got six months left till we sixteen, then we can be legal. Get proper papers and jobs an’ everything. Till then, we got to keep our heads down and not get in any trouble.’
‘It ain’t easy out there, even being legit,’ Jake told them.
‘You did OK,’ said Jez. ‘Look at you, with your suit and a good job.’
‘And on the run,’ added Jake.
‘So why is that?’ demanded Ronnie.
‘Hey, Ronnie, that ain’t our business,’ protested Jez.
‘Yes it is,’ said Ronnie. ‘We spending our precious time with this guy, we puttin’ ourselves on the line for him, we deserve to know why.’
‘Yes, you do.’ Jake nodded in agreement.
And so Jake told them. About the Order of Malichea. About Lauren. Gareth, Pierce Randall and the Watchers. Finding the book at Glastonbury. Robert being beaten nearly to death. When he’d finished, Jez and Ronnie were staring at him, dazed.
‘This is just about books?’ said Ronnie, disbelief in her tone.
‘It’s about what the books mean,’ explained Jake. ‘Money to some, power to others, the good of the whole world to people like me and Lauren.’
Ronnie shook her head.
‘But it’s still about books!’ she repeated, incredulous.
‘For which these people will kill,’ Jake reminded her.
‘Why ain’t you got no friends can help you?’ asked Jez. ‘You say there’s people on your side, like this reporter woman . . .’
‘Michelle,’ nodded Jake.
‘Why don’t you call her?’ Jez asked.
‘Because I daren’t use my mobile,’ said Jake. He explained about being able to be tracked by the signal from a mobile phone. Jez and Ronnie exchanged interested looks.
‘Even when it’s off?’ asked Jez.
‘Even when it’s off,’ confirmed Jake. ‘I need to get hold of another phone.’
‘No problem,’ said Jez. ‘What sort you want? One where you can get movies and games and stuff?’
‘No, just one I can use to make phone calls.’
‘No problem,’ said Ronnie. ‘We’ll fix you up tomorrow. Jez knows a guy who does the best deals.’
‘I just need a pay-as-you-go with a new number,’ said Jake. ‘One they don’t know is me.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Jez confidently. ‘You got a cash card?’
Jake hesitated. Was this their way of getting his card off him to take his money. Then he remembered what they’d done for him already and felt guilty for even thinking that.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘OK. Right now, we’ll stay here the night. Then first thing tomorrow you get some cash, then we’ll get you a phone.’
Chapter 22
As night came, more and more people, most of them in their teens, came into the flat. The kitchen was in constant use, the microwave being especially busy. No one seemed to take much notice of Jake. A few times Jake noticed some of the kids murmuring to Jez or Ronnie as they cast a suspicious look in his direction, but whatever Jez or Ronnie said obviously quelled any suspicions about him.
All the time, the music from next door carried on. Then, on the stroke of ten o’ clock, the music stopped. Or, rather, it was replaced by music that could barely be heard through the walls.
‘They know the law,’ explained Jez.
‘Loud during the day, quiet at night. That way they don’t get busted.’
‘So they’re really a law-abiding couple, Gran and Grandad next door,’ said Jake.
Ronnie grinned.
‘No,’ she said. ‘They just like annoyin’ people. She grinned. ‘We call it music wars.’
That night, Jake joined Jez and Ronnie in the smallest room in the flat, bunking down on sleeping bags laid out on the floor. It wasn’t the most comfortable place that he had ever slept in, and he was aware that the flat was full of strangers, but he felt safer here than he had done for quite a while. He was pretty sure that Gareth’s people, and Alex Munro’s, hadn’t traced him to here. Nor had anyone else.
Tomorrow, he’d get himself a new phone and call Michelle. Then he’d make contact with Lauren. He wouldn’t be able to tell her all the things that had happened, especially what had happened to Robert, but he could at least reassure her that things were moving forward. That they were on the right lines.
Just before he fell asleep, his thoughts went to Robert in hospital, and the dreadful question: who had done that to him?
Next morning, Jake left the flat with Jez and Ronnie, and within a short while he’d got his new phone and £20 worth of credit. He looked at the small piece of equipment he held in his hand and felt a sense of relief. He was connected again. He could talk to people. He could even call Lauren, although his credit would likely just buy him a few seconds to New Zealand. No, the first person he’d call would be Michelle; he would arrange for her to set up the story about the book. He was just about to put in her number, when Jez stopped him, putting his hand over Jake’s. Jez had a worried look on his face.
‘I bin thinkin’,’ he said, frowning. ‘What you said about them tracing you with your phone.’
‘Yes, but that’s why I’ve got this one,’ said Jake. ‘They don’t know this number.’
‘But they will do once you start using it,’ said Jez. ‘Ronnie said it to me just now.’
Jake looked questioningly at Ronnie.
‘You make a call, that number gonna register, right?’ she said. ‘Say these people, these agents or whatever, are listening into whoever you might be callin’. Like this Michelle woman. Once you make that call and they listen and find out it’s you, they got your number.’
Jake stared at her, stunned, then back at the phone in his hand.
‘And you didn’t think to tell me this before I bought this phone?’ he said, angry.
‘We didn’t think of it before,’ defended Jez.
‘You didn’t think of it at all,’ pointed out Ronnie. ‘If I hadn’t said anythin’, you’d be bein’ grabbed by those men.’
Yes, that was a good point, thought Jake. And he should have thought of it. He slipped the phone into his pocket.
‘Maybe you could call Michelle for me?’ he asked hopefully.
‘And have them chasin’ me once they got my number?’ demanded Jez indignantly. He shook his head. ‘No way!’
Jake was frustrated. He’d been depending on talking to Michelle, and then getting the book to her. But there was still another way. He pulled out Michelle’s business card. Yes, there were her email addresses: one at the magazine, one at home.
‘Where’s the nearest cybercafé?’ he asked.
Fifteen minutes later, Jake was sitting at a computer sending Michelle a message.
I need to see you urgently, he typed. Can’t phone. I’ll explain when we meet. When, and where?
As he clicked ‘send’ he prayed that she would be at a computer somewhere, either at home or at her office, and would get his message, and respond quickly.
Jake then sent a message to Lauren: Sorry I’ve been out of touch. Can’t get to my flat at the moment, and can’t phone. I’ll explain later. But there’s good news. Something has come up.
He wondered if he was being too cryptic, and if Lauren would realise that ‘something has come up’ meant a book had been dug up. The problem was, if his message was too obvious, Gareth’s spooks would spot it. But then, Gareth knew he had the book already.
He felt a surge of relief as the inbox displayed a reply from Michelle: 12 noon. The office.
When he came out of the cybercafé, Jez and Ronnie were waiting for him, looking at him enquiringly.
‘I got a meet set up with this reporter,’ he told them. ‘This’ll soon be over.’
‘You want us to come with you?’ asked Jez. ‘Watch your back?’
Jake shook his head.
‘No,’ he assured them. ‘I should be OK now.’
‘These people still after you,’ Jez pointed out.
‘I know,’ said Jake, ‘but I’ve got to do this on my own. You’ve done more than enough for me already,’ he added gratefully.
He held out his hand and shook theirs.
‘When this is all over I’ll come and see you,’ he said. ‘I owe you big time.’
At twelve, Jake was in the reception foyer of Qo magazine in Villiers Street, anxiously scanning the crowd of workers as they left the building heading for the various sandwich bars and cafés for lunch. Finally, to his relief, he saw Michelle.
She came towards him, a look of annoyance on her face.
‘Where have you been?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve been leaving messages for you on your voicemail!’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Jake. ‘And right now, it’s not safe for me out in the open.’
‘Yes, Robert told me about Andy,’ said Michelle. She frowned. ‘And where’s Robert? When I couldn’t get hold of you I tried him, but he’s not answering either.’
‘He was attacked,’ said Jake. ‘He’s in a coma. He’s got a fractured skull. And now they’re looking for me.’
Michelle looked at him, horrified.
‘Attacked?’ she echoed.
‘Like I said, it’s a long story,’ Jake told her. ‘Is there anywhere here we can talk in private?’
Michelle thought it over, then said, ‘The researcher’s office should be free at the moment. We’ll try there.’
They were in luck, the small glass-walled office was free.
‘Right,’ said Michelle when they had sat down. ‘Let’s hear it.’
As briefly as he could, Jake told her what had happened: the attack on him by Andy at the truck stop; his escape; getting to his flat to find Andy watching it; going to Robert’s house at Baron’s Court and finding Robert badly beaten and unconscious; the phone calls from Gareth and Alex Munro; and being chased by, he assumed, Gareth’s MI5 spooks; and getting rid of his phone and now hiding out.
Michelle heard him out, then said, ‘We need to get the book out there into the public domain. That’s the only way to stop this.’
Jake nodded. ‘I agree,’ he said.
‘Good. Let me have the book and I’ll get it opened in a lab, just like you said. Full hazard conditions, loads of photos, the lot.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got a lab all set up to do the tests. They’re just over the river at Waterloo.’
‘I haven’t got it,’ said Jake. ‘I stashed it somewhere safe when I realised what was going on. But I can get it in an hour.’
Michelle nodded.
‘OK, you get back here with the book. I’ll prepare the lab, so they’ll be expecting us.’ Suddenly she beamed. ‘This is going to be so good! This story’s got everything! Murder, conspiracy, torture, religion, weird sciences . . . and it’s all true! I’m going to make sure I get my own byline on this piece, and in big letters!’
‘I’ll just be glad to see it out there,’ said Jake. And Lauren back here with me, he added to himself. He got up and headed for the door. ‘I’ll see you in an hour.’
He stepped out of the offices into Villiers Street and headed towards Charing Cross station. Ten minutes on the Northern Line to Euston, ten minutes to get back, and the rest of the time waiting on platforms and at the Left Luggage office. In one hour, this would all be over. He turned to check for traffic as he stepped off the pavement, and a fist came out
of nowhere and smashed him right in the face. He felt himself falling, dazed, his head filled with pain. Then he was being bundled inside the back of a car, his face pushed hard against the seat cover. He was aware of someone getting into the car beside him, the car door slamming, and then the car racing off.
Chapter 23
A gun was pushed into his face, the barrel pressing painfully into his cheek.
‘Any funny business and you get a bullet in the leg,’ said the man. ‘We need you alive, but that don’t mean we can’t hurt you. Understood?’
Jake forced a nod. He felt sick.
The man sitting in the back of the car next to Jake lowered the gun and rested it on Jake’s leg, pointing at his knee. He was broad-shouldered, the hand that held the gun big and powerful. Jake’s head was still throbbing from the punch. From the force of the punch, and the man’s bent and flattened nose and the scars around his eyes, Jake guessed he’d once been a boxer. He still had the power to hit hard.
The man in front of the car at the steering wheel was shorter and thinner. Not that Jake could see much of him, but he guessed that from the man’s thin neck, and the way he sat low in the driver’s seat.
‘Put your head down,’ ordered the Boxer.
‘What?’ asked Jake.
‘Put your head down, face forward,’ the man snapped, and he poked the end of the barrel of the gun warningly into the side of Jake’s leg.
They don’t want me to know where I’m going, thought Jake. He put his head down, twisting in the back seat so it touched his knees. The big fist that held the gun was now right by his eyes.
‘What do you want?’ asked Jake. ‘I haven’t got anything.’
‘The book,’ said the man with the gun. ‘The one you found at . . .’ He frowned. ‘Where was it?’
‘Glastonbury,’ said the man at the front.
‘Yeah. Glastonbury,’ grunted the Boxer.
‘I haven’t got it,’ said Jake.
‘Then that’s a pity,’ said the driver. ‘Because we’re going to have to hurt you until you tell us where it is.’
After what seemed an eternity, the car finally stopped. Jake heard the driver’s door open, and footsteps, and another door opening.