The Invisible Assassin (17 page)

‘We’d like to take a look at it,’ said Munro. ‘Compare the two lists.’

‘Let’s find her first,’ said Jake grimly.

‘We’re working on that already,’ said Munro calmly. ‘As you’ve already pointed out, we are a very large and very rich organisation. As a law firm, one of our briefs is to trace people. The private investigators we employ are second to none. If anyone can find Ms Graham, they can.’

‘They need to do it before whoever killed Carl gets to her.’

Munro hesitated. He’s about to tell me that Lauren killed Carl, thought Jake. Then Munro obviously changed his mind.

‘Let’s worry about that later,’ he said. ‘Can we return to why we had you freed?’

‘The book,’ said Jake.

‘The book.’ Munro nodded. ‘The El Izmir. The one you and Ms Graham rescued from Hadley Park last night.’

He knows, Jake said to himself. He’s not just guessing. In the same way that Gareth knew, and those two men who grabbed me in the street. And Penny Johnson. Everyone involved in this case knows that Lauren and I got the book. How? Was it the image of Lauren and him on the CCTV, even though he had been masked? Then another thought struck him.

‘This book you found for your clients – the one about optics . . .’

‘Yes,’ said Munro.

‘There’s nothing about it having been found on the internet. If there had been, Lauren would have known. She’s been trying to trace this hidden library for years, even to find one book from it just so she can prove it exists.’

‘A very worthy ambition,’ said Munro.

‘So why haven’t you announced this book you found to the world? If what you say is true, about wanting to share the knowledge with everyone.’

‘We thought about that,’ said Munro. ‘But then we reasoned, if we did and word got out that it was one of the Malichea hidden books, every crackpot would be out searching and digging. And who knows where these books might end up? In the hands of crooks, or governments who want to keep them hidden.’

‘But you’re keeping this one hidden,’ persisted Jake.

‘Believe me, Jake, if it had anything new to show the world, we would reveal it. We would give that information to the world, freely. But, unlike the text you found, all our book says about optical sciences is already known.’

Jake studied Munro. Despite the man’s easy manner, the frank way he spoke about everything and the way he’d answered all of his questions, Jake had an uneasy feeling there was something being hidden.

‘You were talking about the book,’ Jake reminded him.

‘The one you have,’ said Munro, watching him intently.

Jake shook his head.

‘I haven’t got it. You’re right, Lauren and I took it last night, but she and Carl Parsons took it with them. The idea was for Parsons to take care of it because he was less likely to have his flat burgled. Also, he said he could hide it better than either of us.’

‘Do you know where?’ asked Munro.

‘No,’ admitted Jake.

‘A pity,’ sighed Munro.

‘Find Lauren,’ said Jake. ‘She’ll know where it is. She may even have it with her.’

Munro nodded.

‘I still don’t get it,’ said Jake. He waved his hand around at the luxurious offices. ‘All this costs money to keep up. Someone’s got to pay for it. Likewise, searching the world for the hidden texts must cost a huge amount.’ He gave Munro a quizzical look. ‘No matter how much you may care for the “common good”, there’s got to be a reason why you pour so much money into searching for these books. You’ve got to get paid for it.’

A small smile crossed Munro’s face. ‘Money, indeed, Jake. The force that seems to drive the world. But, in this case, not necessarily so. As you rightly point out, the search for the books does cost a great deal of money. But fortunately we are the kind of firm with many very wealthy clients, and not all of them want to keep the money for themselves. I’m sure you know about Bill Gates and Microsoft pumping millions into Third World health charities?’

‘You’re saying he’s one of your clients?’

‘No,’ said Munro. ‘I’m just giving you that as an example. We have many wealthy clients who feel that the hidden texts should be found, and the information and discoveries used to make this world a better place. They channel their money to us to try to make that a reality.’ He sighed. ‘Unfortunately, of course, we are up against very powerful oppositions.’

‘The government,’ said Jake bitterly, thinking about Gareth and the Department of Science.

‘Not just the government of this country,’ said Munro. ‘Other governments, especially those who fear these discoveries could result in dangerous new weapons. And large chemical companies who make millions from selling drugs, just because they hold the patents on them. There are many organisations who want to make sure that these books are never found.

‘There are other companies who want the books so they can patent the sciences in them, and so make massive profits from them. There are also weapons manufacturers and terrorist organisations who would love to get hold of some of the sciences and use them as weapons. Like this El Izmir book on fungal spores, for example. Look what happened to that worker who was contaminated at the site by the spores. Imagine that on a massive scale. A biological weapon that doesn’t destroy buildings. That’s a potential gold mine!’ His tone suddenly became very serious. ‘It also represents a threat of nightmare proportions. That’s why it’s vital that book doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.’

Jake nodded. ‘Yes, I see,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know where I fit in.’

‘Because you have seen the book. You know it exists. And because Ms Graham obviously trusts you. If she
is
out there and she’s going to get in touch with anyone, I believe that will be you.’ He leant forward, the expression on his face now deadly concerned. ‘You are the key to finding this book. We got you out of jail because we need you to help us find it. For the good of the world.’ His face softened. ‘It’s also what Ms Graham wants.’

‘Yes,’ admitted Jake. It was. Bring the hidden library out into the open, for the common good.

Munro sat back, relaxed.

‘So, can we count on your help?’ he asked.

‘Right now the book isn’t as important as finding Lauren,’ Jake responded. ‘But if finding the book will help find Lauren and get her back safely, and it seems that’s the case, then yes, you can count on my help.’

‘Excellent!’ Munro beamed. He looked at his watch. ‘It’s getting late. You must be tired.’

Yes, I am, realised Jake. I’ve been running on adrenalin ever since those two men tried to kill me in Marsham Street, and now it’s wearing off. I need to sleep.

‘The car will take you back to the apartment,’ said Munro. ‘Get yourself a good night’s sleep, and remember you have an appointment with Ms Clark and the police tomorrow morning.’

‘I won’t forget,’ said Jake.

‘Good,’ said Munro. ‘Oh, and if you need anything at all during the night, or if you feel alarmed, there is a concierge on duty twenty-four hours a day. Just pick up the red handset.’

‘All-round protection,’ commented Jake.

‘Nothing is too good for our clients,’ said Munro.

Chapter 21

Keith dropped Jake off in the underground car park, and Jake went through the security systems for the lift and the door to the apartment, still half expecting someone to leap out and attack him the whole time. Even when he got into the apartment, he went from room to room, checking to make sure no one was hiding anywhere in it.

I’m not paranoid, he told himself, just terrified.

He went into the kitchen and stood studying the equipment. Everything looked very hi-tech, as if it all needed a degree in computing to operate. I need a coffee, he said to himself. Luckily, the kettle seemed simple enough. He was just filling it with water when his mobile rang. Lauren, he thought as he snatched it up and pressed connect.

‘Lauren?’

‘No, sorry,’ said a woman’s voice. It was Penny Johnson, the reporter.

‘I don’t need this,’ said Jake wearily. ‘I’ve had a very very bad day.’

‘I know,’ said Johnson.

‘No, you don’t,’ said Jake.

‘Last night you took a book from Hadley Park Research Establishment. A man was found dead in your flat. You were arrested as a suspect. You’ve got to go back for questioning tomorrow morning. Your ex-girlfriend is on the run, accused of killing her boyfriend. You’ve just got in from seeing Alex Munro of Pierce Randall. How am I doing?’

Jake hesitated. This didn’t sound like some reporter on a local newspaper; unless she was gathering credits to get a job on one of the majors.

‘We need to talk,’ said Johnson.

‘I don’t think I want to talk to you.’

‘It could help Lauren,’ said Johnson.

Jake was silent for a moment. It was a con, he was sure of it. She was just a journalist looking for a story. But he remembered their previous meeting, when she’d dropped that she knew about the Order of Malichea, and her closing words:
The book needs to go back to its rightful owners
. Penny Johnson was involved in this case, and not just as a reporter.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Come and see me. I’m at –’

‘I know where you are,’ she interrupted him. ‘It’s too dangerous for me. There’s a bar at the corner of the street, The Lounge. I’ll see you there in five minutes.’

The phone went dead.

Too dangerous for me?
Jake thought. Where was the danger? This apartment had to be one of the safest places on the planet. If he left here, he’d be out in the open, definitely at risk. But she’d used the magic words:
It could help Lauren
.

The Lounge sounded like the kind of bar you’d expect to find in some swish upmarket hotel. It wasn’t. Away from the plush expensiveness of the apartment block, the street became a series of boarded-up terraced houses awaiting development. Jake guessed they would become part of the new upmarket Pierce Randall development, more hi-tech apartments. Old London disappearing to make way for New London. Just past the boarded-up houses was The Lounge, a dingy-looking pub on the corner. The sound of thumping early sixties music came from it. It’s going to be full of geezers, thought Jake apprehensively. Geezers and old-time gangsters. He felt nervous just pushing open the door.

To his surprise, the pub was nearly empty. Just a few people, mainly men, sitting at tables with pints of ale in front of them. This clientele was a far cry from the high-flying financial whizz-kids of the city, and the lawyers from Pierce Randall in their expensive suits. The men in here were mainly middle-aged or old, and wearing suits that had gone out of fashion decades ago. If they were ever in fashion. No one looked like a hard man, or a special forces soldier.

The clientele looked at Jake as he came in, and then disregarded him, turning back to their talk of football, betting, the telly, and how much better things used to be in the old days.

They’ll be gone soon, reflected Jake. Like the buildings. Once the new hi-tech buildings are here, this pub will be gone, or turned into a yuppie watering hole, filled with the sounds of Blackberries and iPhones going off, and these old guys will have to find somewhere else to go.

He looked around the pub and saw Penny Johnson sitting alone at a corner table with a glass in front of her. No one was near her. Jake walked over to the table and sat down.

‘What’s all this stuff about the apartment being too dangerous?’ he asked. ‘That place is a lot safer than here.’

‘The whole apartment block is owned by Pierce Randall.’

‘So?’

She gestured towards the back of the pub.

‘See the door to the toilets?’

Jake nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘It leads to a back door out on to the street. A fire exit. Go out and wait for me. I’ll join you in a minute.’

‘Why?’ asked Jake.

‘Because at least two people have already been killed so far,’ said Johnson. ‘I don’t intend to be the next victim.’

As Jake walked towards the fire exit he thought to himself, Why am I doing this? Why am I following her instructions? People have tried to kill me. For all I know, she’s got a couple of heavies waiting for me as soon as I step into the street.

He hesitated, then stopped and turned. Johnson was sitting at the table, sipping at her drink, as if everything was normal. She saw him looking back at her, and winked and smiled.

What’s that about? thought Jake. A wink and a smile, at a time like this! Then it hit him; she was playing a role, just in case anyone was watching. He looked around. There didn’t seem to be any suspicious characters in here. Well, not many. But then again, what did a suspicious character look like? Not all of them had knife scars down one side of their face. There was something suspicious about Sue Clark, for example. But then, she was a lawyer.

He looked again at Johnson, and this time she raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

I should walk back and tell her I’m not going outside that door, he thought. If she’s got anything to tell me, she can tell me here and now.