by Jim Eldridge
Jake and Lauren sat side by side on hard wooden chairs in the office at the back of the police station. On the desk in front of them was an open laptop, and on the screen the face of Gareth Findlay-Weston beamed at them. Smiling, as always, thought Jake. That same smile he’d be wearing whether he was about to praise someone or execute them.
‘I hear you two have had quite an eventful time on Mull,’ said Gareth. ‘But then I always find the Hebrides very invigorating. The air in particular is very bracing.’
‘I have the document you signed,’ said Jake.
‘Which document would that be?’ asked Gareth.
‘The one you sent to Pam Gordon, giving permission for Lauren to return to the UK, and me to get my job back.’
Gareth frowned.
‘Sounds like a forgery to me,’ he said. ‘I can hardly imagine anyone in my position would authorise such a document, unless under extreme pressure, possibly blackmail. And, as I’m sure you know, any document obtained under blackmail is not valid in a court of law.’
‘Now look!’ exploded Jake angrily, and he shook his bandaged fists at the webcam.
‘Calm down, Jake,’ said Gareth. ‘You might do further damage to those poor hands of yours.’ Then he smiled. ‘Anyway, you can rest assured, that document will be honoured.’
Jake’s expression changed from fury, to stunned astonishment.
‘It will?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ said Gareth. ‘I value you highly as a worker, Jake, as you know. Also, to be frank, keeping a close watch on the pair of you is an expense this department can do without, especially in these difficult economic times. It will be far cheaper to have you both where we can keep an eye on you. So, yes, Ms Graham; you may remain in this country. And Jake, I expect you to return to work once your injuries have healed.’
Jake wanted to yell out in joy, give an exultant cry of ‘Yess!’, but he did his best to contain himself. Instead, he looked at Lauren and gave her the broadest smile possible, and she smiled back, her eyes sparkling.
But that was for later. Right now, there were still many questions that Jake wanted answers to.
‘Why did you send in the SAS?’ he asked. ‘Considering what Pam Gordon had said about the Russians and diplomatic immunity.’
A look of displeasure crossed Gareth’s face.
‘I do wish you wouldn’t throw people’s names around in a public conversation,’ he rebuked Jake.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Jake. ‘I thought this was a private conversation.’
‘Don’t be silly, Jake. There are no such things as private conversations any more, not where modern technology is concerned. Anyway, to answer your question. First, the SAS were not sent in.’
Jake frowned, puzzled.
‘If they weren’t the SAS, who were they?’ he asked. ‘They acted like them.’
‘Let us just say they were experts in their job,’ said Gareth. ‘Which is dealing with dangerous hostage situations.’
‘Which is what the SAS do,’ insisted Jake.
Again, Gareth gave them a look of irritation.
‘At the moment I am feeling benevolent towards you,’ he said. ‘My attitude may change if you continue to annoy me.’
Lauren gave Jake a sharp and painful nudge in the thigh with her finger that meant: Shut up. We’ve got what we want. If you upset him, he might take it back.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Jake. ‘I won’t interrupt any more.’
‘Good,’ said Gareth. ‘As it turns out, the professor was not acting in any official capacity. The so-called archaeological dig was his own enterprise.’
Lies, thought Jake. No one could carry out an undertaking like Professor Lemski’s dig without some sort of official government backing. However, his thigh still hurt from where Lauren had just jabbed him. Keep your mouth shut, he told himself. Don’t make waves.
‘The Russian government did initially approve his excavations, which is why the issue of diplomatic immunity arose,’ continued Gareth, ‘but once he became too extreme in his actions, they withdrew their diplomatic immunity from him and his team. They distanced themselves from him completely, describing him as a “rogue activist”, and nothing to do with the Russian government.’
‘Do we believe them?’
Gareth shrugged.
‘Whether we do or not is irrelevant. What matters is that there will be no repercussions between our two governments over what happened. Professor Lemski was acting completely on his own. And, of course, he has been handed back to the Russian authorities, along with the rest of his team.’
‘So he gets away with it. With killing Dougie MacClain and John Gordon.’
‘We don’t believe the professor was actually involved in their deaths. It seems that may well have been Muir, acting on his own initiative.’
‘But Muir worked for Lemski!’
‘We don’t know that for sure. Whether he started out as an independent operator who linked up with Lemski; or whether he was in place beforehand, we don’t know. We’re still trying to find out more about him. Of course, now he’s dead, much of that will be academic. In fact, with his death, I think we can say, “Case closed”.’
‘What about the book?’ asked Lauren.
‘Ah yes, the book.’ Gareth smiled. ‘That would appear to have come into our possession.’
‘Those soldiers took it off me!’ said Jake.
‘Standard procedure when dealing with a hostage situation, to check all persons — including the hostages — for hidden weapons, or anything that might pose a threat.’
‘It was a book!’ said Jake.
‘A dangerous book,’ said Gareth. He looked at his watch. ‘Actually, I have another conference call about to start. So we shall say goodbye. Welcome back to the United Kingdom, Ms Graham. I’m sure you will be able to sort things out with your friends in New Zealand. As for you, Jake, I look forward to hearing from you when the doctor certifies you fit to return to work.’
And with that, the image of Gareth on the screen was replaced by a black square, and the message: Contact terminated appeared.
Jake turned to Lauren and sighed.
‘We lost the book,’ he said.
‘But we got each other back,’ said Lauren. ‘And there’ll be other books.’
He leant forward and kissed her.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘There’ll be other books.’
Chapter 31
Robbie lay propped up against the pillows in his hospital bed, a drip attached to his arm. He gave Jake and Lauren a glum look.
‘We lost the book,’ he said.
‘But they saved your life,’ said Rona.
Jake and Lauren both knew they couldn’t leave the area without visiting Robbie in the hospital at Oban. Rona had gone to stay with one of her many aunts on the mainland so she could visit Robbie every day.
‘I know,’ said Robbie, ‘and I’m grateful for that, I really am. But we’re Watchers. Our job was to protect the book.’
‘You couldn’t stop it being found,’ Lauren said. ‘Lemski knew where it was, and he had unlimited resources at his disposal. And weapons, and people who would use them. Your Uncle Dougie tried, and look what happened to him.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Robbie. But his downcast expression showed he didn’t really feel it.
‘But it’s in a safe place,’ said Rona. ‘Isn’t that right?’ she said to Lauren and Jake.
‘Oh yes,’ Jake assured them. ‘It’s locked securely away where no one can get at it.’ Not even us, he reflected ruefully.
‘How long do they think you’ll have to stay in hospital?’ Lauren asked Robbie.
‘The doctor said I should be able to leave tomorrow. Luckily, the bullet didn’t hit anything serious. And Dr Patel did a great job, which helped.’
‘Excellent,’ said Jake. He looked at his watch, and then said apologetically, ‘Actually, we’d better make a move. We’ve got to get back to Glasgow and catch a train.’
‘I’m sure we will,’ said Jake.
‘We certainly will,’ added Lauren firmly. ‘And next time we’ll enjoy the island, without being chased over it by people with guns.’
‘And stuff that sets you on fire,’ said Robbie.
‘About that, what will happen to Professor Lemski?’ asked Rona. ‘I mean, the experiment is out there, in the open. Will he develop it?’
‘That depends on what happens to him now he’s back in Russia,’ said Jake. ‘I mean, he could be locked up.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Lauren. ‘People like the professor are too important to their governments to be kept out of things. And too dangerous.’
Professor Lemski sat in the palatial office of the Minister of Science in Moscow and sipped at the glass of steaming tea.
‘That was very nearly an extremely nasty diplomatic incident, Fyodor,’ commented the minister, a large man with a bald head and startlingly bushy eyebrows.
‘It was the American’s fault,’ countered Lemski. ‘Muir.’
‘But the operation was under your control.’
‘My people were under my control,’ corrected Lemski. ‘Muir was a loose cannon. A maverick. I warned against using him from the very start.’
‘Yes yes,’ said the minister hastily. ‘But the book is lost.’
‘The book may be, but not all the information it contained,’ said Lemski.
‘You photocopied it?’ asked the minister, leaning forward expectantly. Then his eager expression vanished, as he remembered: ‘But the British took all your papers before they released you.’
‘They did,’ said Lemski. He tapped his forehead. ‘But you forget, I have a photographic memory.’
‘Excellent!’ said the minister. ‘So the experiments can continue!’
‘The experiments are done,’ said Lemski ‘We know the constituents of the serum, and their proportions. I propose we move on to the next project.’ He leant forward. ‘There are many more books from the Malichea library hidden. Not just in the Highlands and islands of Scotland from the abbey at Iona, but from the library at Glastonbury. We need to find them, and to do that we need to find The Index!’
The minister frowned, a doubtful expression on his face.
‘There are many people searching for them,’ he pointed out. ‘We can come to some kind of civilised arrangement with most of them. Even some of the more — ah — dubious organisations. But what about this English couple? You mentioned the problems that Mr Muir caused us because he was a maverick. As I understand it, this Mr Wells and Ms Graham could be even worse.’
Lemski nodded.
‘Yes, I agree,’ he said. ‘I am convinced that as a result I shall meet them again.’ A nasty smile lit up his face. ‘And when I do, I will have my revenge on them for what happened on Mull. I will destroy them, piece by piece!’ His smile broadened, and he raised his glass of tea in a toast. ‘To revenge!’
Want to know what happens next?
Read on for a gripping taster of
THE LAST ENEMY . . .
Prologue
Alex Munro, CEO of Pierce Randall, got out of his chauffeur-driven car and looked along Crouch End Broadway, his eye lighting on the Red Hen café just five paces away from where he stood. It was very rare that a man in his position, one of the most powerful lawyers in the world, made a ‘home visit’. People came to see him, not the other way round. But this was a special case. The person he’d come here to meet could well be the way into the mother lode — the key to the whole hidden library of the Order of Malichea. If it turned out to be so, then this could signal millions — no, billions of dollars coming into the company.
His driver, Gerald, closed the rear passenger door and shot Munro a questioning look that asked: Do you need me with you? Munro shook his head. No, he didn’t need Gerald with him, everything seemed safe. His security people had checked the café out — the owners, the clientele. Five of his bodyguards, all ex-military, were inside posing as customers and ready to spring into action if needed. If there was any hint of trouble, they’d have sorted it out before Munro even entered the place.
He looked at his watch and checked it against the giant clock on the imposing brick monument in the centre of the Broadway. Two p.m. That was the time agreed. He wondered if the person he was due to meet was already inside the café, waiting for him, or whether they’d be late. He hoped they’d be on time; he couldn’t stand unpunctuality.
He nodded at Gerald, who got back into the car. Then Munro moved across the pavement towards the café.
He never made it.
As he took his second step, the bullet smashed into the back of his head and ripped through his brain, sending blood erupting out from the exit wound. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The figure high up on the roof of the old building overlooking the Broadway began to take apart the sniper rifle and put it into its case. When he reappeared on the street below in a few moments, he would just be carrying an ordinary attaché case. He’d disappear into the crowd, just another passer-by going about his business.
The first part of the plan had been carried out. Alex Munro was dead. Now to concentrate on his next target: Jake Wells.
Also by Jim Eldridge
The Invisible Assassin
The Deadly Game
Bloomsbury Publishing, London, New Delhi, New York and Sydney
First published in Great Britain in April 2013 by
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP
This electronic edition published in April 2013 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Copyright © Jim Eldridge 2013
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eISBN 978 1 4088 2685 0
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