by Jim Eldridge
But there was still a chance that the Russians were holding Lauren prisoner, despite Gordon’s doubts about that. He had to believe that Lauren was still alive, otherwise all of this would be for nothing.
‘OK,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll do it. But I want something in return.’
‘We’ll give you back-up, as much as we can without being seen to be involved,’ nodded Gordon.
‘I’m not talking about back-up,’ said Jake. ‘I want a deal. If I do this, then Gareth agrees to let Lauren back into the country, and any charges against her are dropped. Second, I want my old job back.’
Gordon laughed.
‘You’re mad!’ she said. ‘He’s not going to go for either of those.’
‘He will if he wants me to get the book back off the Russians,’ said Jake. ‘And I want his agreement in writing.’
Gordon fell silent. Then she said, ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
‘Deadly serious,’ said Jake. ‘I’m guessing that you’ve got one of those state-of-the-art phones that you can link to a printer.’
Gordon shrugged.
‘I may have,’ she said.
‘And it’ll have some kind of scrambler on it so you can send messages safely in code.’
Again, Gordon gave a small smile.
‘You’ve been watching too many James Bond films,’ she said.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve been put under surveillance before, and by experts.’
Chapter 17
As the car pulled up in front of their guest house, Jake saw Manvers and Webb putting their luggage into their car.
‘Looks like someone’s called the dogs off,’ murmured Gordon.
‘Or they don’t think it’s worth staying here now that Lauren’s disappeared,’ suggested Jake.
Gordon sighed.
‘If you want my advice, you ought to carry on calling her Helen Cooper,’ she said. ‘When you get a cover story you have to stick to it.’
‘But I’m only talking to you, and you know who she really is,’ countered Jake.
‘Yes, but you always have to assume you can be overheard,’ said Gordon. ‘Spy School Basic.’
Jake nodded.
‘Point taken,’ he said.
They waited until Manvers and Webb had driven off before they got out of Gordon’s car, to avoid any awkward questions the Immigration inspectors might ask. But, from the grim expressions on the faces of Manvers and Webb, it didn’t look as if they were much inclined to start a conversation anyway.
‘I’ll get on to Lord Voldemort for you,’ said Gordon. ‘Let’s see what he says.’
They entered reception, and Gordon headed straight upstairs. Through the open door of the bar area, Jake saw Alec, Jeannie and Rona MacClain talking. Time to sort some things out and clear the air, he thought.
He walked into the bar. The three were so deeply engaged in their conversation, talking in low and urgent tones, that they weren’t aware of Jake’s presence at first, until Jeannie MacClain half turned and saw him.
‘Mr Wells!’ she said.
Immediately, Alec and Rona stopped talking and turned to look at him, startled.
‘I’m sorry for all the trouble you’ve had,’ said Jake apologetically, ‘but it wasn’t me who killed John Gordon.’
‘No, that was the impression we got from Mrs Gordon,’ said Alec. He frowned, puzzled. ‘Though how she knew . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Especially as it was her husband who died.’
‘I was framed,’ said Jake. ‘Someone wanted me out of the way. And John Gordon. And Helen. And Dougie.’
‘Why?’ asked Jeannie.
‘The book,’ said Rona.
‘It has to be,’ said Jake. ‘It’s the only thing that links us.’ Desperately hoping for good news, he asked, ‘Has there been any news of Helen?’
They shook their heads.
‘What happened?’ asked Jake.
‘I went to the boat hut to take her some food,’ said Rona. ‘The door had been broken open and she was gone.’
‘I went along when Rona called me,’ added Alec. ‘It looked like there’d been signs of a struggle. A chair was lying on its side, things had been pulled off the shelves.’
‘Any car tracks?’ asked Jake.
Alec shook his head.
‘No,’ he said.
‘It has to be the Russians,’ said Rona.
‘Really?’ queried Jake. ‘Now they’ve found the book I’d have thought they’d be packing up.’
‘It doesn’t look like it,’ said Alec. ‘We’ve been taking turns to keep an eye on them. Soon after the book was found, two of the Russians took the ferry to the mainland.’
‘Foot passengers?’
Alec shook his head.
‘They took one of their cars.’
‘Anyone we know? The professor? The one they call Dmitri?’
Again, Alec shook his head.
‘No, just two of the so-called archaeologists. One of them speaks good English. I checked with a pal of mine on the ferry.’
‘When did they go?’
‘Yesterday afternoon.’
Jake thought over the implication of this.
‘It sounds like they’ve been sent to get something.’
‘If it was just supplies, they’d have been back by now,’ said Alec.
‘So it’s something out of the ordinary.’ Jake nodded. ‘I think it’s something to do with the book. Has Rona told you what the book is?’
‘Something to do with spontaneous human combustion,’ said Jeannie. She frowned. ‘Why is that important enough for people to be killed over?’
‘Because it’s about how to make it happen,’ said Jake.
‘You mean, like a formula or a recipe?’ asked Rona.
‘Yes,’ said Jake.
‘So you think those two have gone to get the ingredients they need?’ asked Jeannie. ‘Somewhere they’re more likely to get special stuff, like Glasgow, or Edinburgh?’
Jake sighed.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m just guessing. My feeling is that the professor wants to check that what’s in the book works. If it doesn’t, then it could mean that what they’ve found is only part of it, so there could be more of the book hidden here at the site. That’s the only reason I can think of why they haven’t started to leave.’
‘If what you say is right, we ought to intercept those two Russians when they come back,’ suggested Alec. ‘Maybe we could get the police to search them and their car as soon as they arrive at Oban.’
‘But we don’t know what they’ll be bringing back,’ pointed out Jake. ‘It could be some innocent-looking herbs.’ He sighed, then asked, ‘Where’s Robbie?’
‘He’s working on Dougie’s boats,’ said Rona.
‘He feels he needs to do it for Dougie’s memory,’ said Alec.
‘And he wants to keep an eye on the Russians,’ added Rona.
Jake nodded.
‘Will it be all right with you if I go and have a word with him?’ he asked Alec and Jeannie.
‘Are you going to have a row with him about what he said?’ asked Alec warily. ‘About you killing John Gordon?’
Jake shook his head.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I just want to try and make my peace with him. The only way to find out what’s happened to Helen is if we work together.’
‘I don’t want him getting in any deeper than he is,’ warned Alec.
‘I know,’ said Jake. ‘And I’ll do my best to try and talk him out of doing anything silly.’
Jeannie sighed.
‘We’ve tried to do that, but he’s stubborn,’ she said. ‘Just like Dougie.’
‘We thought about sending him away until this is over,’ said Alec. ‘He can stay with relatives on the mainland.’
‘But he refuses to go,’ said Jeannie unhappily. ‘Said if we sent him away, he’d get a boat and sneak back.’
‘He feels he’s responsible,’ said Rona. ‘For the book being found.�
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Jake nodded.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he told them.
‘He won’t listen to you,’ said Jeannie.
‘No, I don’t think he will,’ said Jake. ‘But at least I can try.’
Chapter 18
Robbie was sitting on a crate beside the two upturned boats. He turned as he heard Jake approach, and scowled.
‘So they let you go,’ he said sullenly.
‘Because I’m innocent,’ said Jake. ‘I was framed.’
Robbie let out a snort of disbelief.
‘Mrs Gordon herself came to bring me back,’ said Jake. ‘She wouldn’t have done that if she thought I’d killed her husband.’
‘There’s something suspicious about her,’ growled Robbie. ‘I don’t think she’s who she says she is either. Like you!’ he added accusingly.
Jake hesitated, then asked, ‘Can we talk?’
‘About what?’ demanded Robbie.
He was angry. His beloved uncle had been killed and the book they’d both sworn to protect had been dug up.
‘About the book,’ said Jake. ‘About finding Helen.’
‘The Russians have got her,’ said Robbie.
Jake’s heart gave a leap.
‘Do you know that for sure?’ he asked. ‘Have you seen her?’
‘No,’ said Robbie. ‘But if she’d gone into the sea, her body would have been found by now. Either it would have come in with the tide, or one of the boats would have spotted something floating.’
Jake’s feeling of hope sank into the pit of his stomach. For a second he’d thought that Robbie had caught sight of Lauren.
‘We need to get the book back,’ said Jake firmly.
‘No,’ said Robbie, glowering at Jake. ‘I need to get the book back so I can destroy it. You want it back so you can give it to MI5 or whoever.’
‘It shouldn’t be destroyed,’ said Jake. ‘The monks buried it so the information in it would be kept safe.’
‘And now it isn’t,’ retorted Robbie. ‘It’s been found, and it’s in the wrong hands.’
‘If we work against each other, we could end up getting in each other’s way,’ Jake pointed out. ‘We stand more chance of getting the book off the Russians if we work together.’
‘And then what?’ challenged Robbie. ‘What do we do? Fight for it? See who wins?’ He gave another snort of derision. ‘You must think I’m an idiot!’
‘No, I don’t,’ said Jake. ‘I think you’re angry, and with good reason. But I don’t think it’ll help get the book or Helen back.’
Jake gestured at a spare crate near one of the upturned boats.
‘Mind if I sit down?’ he asked.
‘Why?’ demanded Robbie. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you!’
‘For one thing, there’s the secret tunnel,’ said Jake. ‘Rona showed it to me.’
‘That’s no way in,’ said Robbie, shaking his head.
Jake frowned, surprised.
‘We saw it,’ he said. ‘It looks like the best way in. The only way in.’
‘If the Russians have got your girlfriend, she’ll have told them about it,’ said Robbie.
‘No she won’t,’ said Jake firmly.
‘Are you prepared to stake your life on that?’ asked Robbie. ‘I’m not. They killed Uncle Dougie. They won’t have any qualms about doing whatever it takes to make your girlfriend tell them everything she knows. And that includes telling them about the secret tunnel.’
At the thought of Lauren being interrogated — no, tortured — by the Russians Jake felt a sick feeling deep in his stomach.
‘So how are you planning to get in?’ he asked.
Once again, Robbie glowered at him.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ he grunted. ‘I’ve got my own way to get in, and it’s staying my way.’
Jake looked at the angry boy. There was so much he wanted to say to try to convince Robbie that they’d have more chance working together, but he could tell by the boy’s manner that right now nothing he said would persuade him.
‘OK,’ said Jake. ‘But if you change your mind . . .’
‘I won’t,’ snapped Robbie curtly.
Jake nodded resignedly. Then he turned and headed back towards Craigmount.
As Jake walked across the forecourt towards the entrance to the guest house, he saw Pam Gordon hurrying out towards him.
‘Where have you been?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve been looking for you!’
‘Talking to Robbie MacClain,’ he said. ‘Trying to get him to work with us.’
‘Any luck?’
Jake shook his head.
‘I’m afraid not,’ he said.
Pam Gordon held out a sheet of paper to him.
‘Anyway, you’ve got your deal,’ she said.
Jake snatched the paper off her and read it quickly, and then more thoroughly. It agreed that, if Jake were to offer his full assistance and the book was recovered and handed to ‘the appropriate services’, then Lauren Graham would be allowed to return legally to the United Kingdom, and Jacob Wells could return to his former job as press officer at the Department of Science. The letter was signed by Gareth Findlay-Weston, and dated that day.
‘The wonders of modern communications technology,’ she said. ‘So all you have to do is get the book.’
Suddenly she collapsed in front of Jake, uttering a moan of pain, thudding down on to the gravel of the forecourt. Jake was dimly aware of hearing what sounded like the echo of a shot from a distance. Then something plucked at Jake’s sleeve and smashed into a nearby water barrel. He was being shot at! He turned to dive behind the water barrel, and as he did so he felt a blow on the side of his head and then . . .
Chapter 19
‘Where am I?’
The voice seemed to come from a long way away. Then he realised it was his own voice.
‘You’re in your room at Craigmount.’
Soft Scottish tones. Jeannie MacClain.
He turned to see her as she moved into his view, and a bolt of pain tore through his head.
‘Aaargh!’ he groaned.
‘Don’t move,’ said Jeannie. ‘The doctor said the bullet just grazed your skull, but it took a chip of bone out. Only a small chip, but painful. You were very lucky, but you need to rest.’
He was aware of bandages around his head, like a turban. He lay there flat, looking about him as best he could without moving his head, eyes going left and right, then upwards.
He recognised the decor. It was the room at the guest house he and Lauren shared. Or, had shared, before she disappeared.
‘The doctor said he thought it best to leave you here,’ said Jeannie. ‘There’s no hospital on the island, and he thought, as your injury isn’t life-threatening, you’d be better off here than being transferred to the mainland.’
‘What about Mrs Gordon?’
‘She’s alive, but the bullet broke her leg. The air ambulance took her to Oban. She’s in hospital there. They say she’ll be all right.’ She looked worried. ‘You’re both lucky to be alive.’
‘Do they know who shot us?’
Jeannie shook her head.
‘Now, rest,’ she said. ‘The doctor’s given you painkillers and something to help you sleep. He’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.’
‘Lauren?’ said Jake.
‘Who?’ asked Jeannie.
I mean Helen, he thought. Helen Cooper. I feel tired. Very tired. My head feels numb. I’ll ask about Helen tomorrow . . .
He woke at some time in the early hours of the morning. It was dark. Everything was dark. There was no light at all.
I have to get up and find Lauren, he thought, and he tried to sit up in bed, but then he felt weak, all his energy fading and slipping away from him, and he sagged back on to the bed . . .
‘It looks good,’ said the doctor, examining the side of Jake’s head.
Dr Patel. A young doctor. He had checked Jake’s pulse and heart and breathing before he�
�d begun unravelling the bandages from around his head. A close inspection of the wound, followed by a satisfied grunt.
‘Very clean,’ said the doctor. ‘No infection. And, luckily for you, the bullet only grazed you. There’s no permanent damage. Comparatively, it’s little more than having a bang on the head. Of course, it will continue to hurt for a while, but you have a very thick skull, which is fortunate.’
‘How long do I have to stay here?’ asked Jake.
He was fed up with lying in this bed as if he was an invalid. Lauren was out there somewhere!
‘You can get up today,’ said Dr Patel. ‘But don’t do anything too energetic to start with. Take it easy. Sit around the lounge. Or in the garden outside. Some fresh air will do you good.’
He set to work re-dressing the wound, this time using plasters.
‘I have had to shave the area around your wound, so you may feel you look a little odd,’ said the doctor. ‘But you can always wear a hat.’
He finished dressing the wound, and nodded approvingly at his own handiwork.
‘A very neat job, though I say it myself.’ He began to pack his bag, and added, ‘The police want to talk to you, of course.’
The police again, groaned Jake. He seemed to have spent most of his time on Mull being questioned by them.
‘Are they here?’
Dr Patel nodded.
‘They’re waiting downstairs. A Detective Sergeant Stewart and a constable.’ He gave Jake a wry smile. ‘It might be as well to talk to them now and get it over with, then you can rest.’
‘I suppose so,’ agreed Jake.
‘So, shall I tell them they can come up?’
‘OK,’ said Jake.
‘Good. I shall call in on you again tomorrow. I’ve left some painkillers on your bedside table. If you feel the need, by all means take them. You can take two at one time, but no more than two every four hours. Is that understood?’