The Deadly Game(11)

‘If this turns into a story, you bet. But you better not be wasting my time.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll dig out the list of possible sites where the books might have been buried, and sort out the most likely.’

‘And I’ll talk to my editor, see if he’ll go for it.’

‘You’d better not tell him about the hidden books at this stage,’ cautioned Jake. ‘If word gets out what we’re up to, we might run into problems.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll push the King Arthur angle.’ She smiled. ‘I’m pretty sure he’ll think it’s a better story, anyway. More sellable. Do you have your own transport?’

‘No,’ said Jake. ‘Public transport does for me.’

‘OK, I’ll pick you up on Saturday. Nine o’clock?’

‘Great,’ agreed Jake.

She headed for the door, a look of happy determination on her face. ‘Glastonbury, here we come.’





Chapter 6




Once Michelle had gone, Jake started to see the flaws in the plan. It had all seemed so simple when he’d been talking to Michelle: go to Glastonbury, find a book, and put it in the public domain. But first: find a book. If it was that simple, then at least some of the books would have already been discovered by now; but there was nothing about them in Lauren’s researches, or on the various internet sites about the Order of Malichea.

But that didn’t mean they hadn’t been dug up. He knew that Pierce Randall had already got at least one of the books, and his own Department of Science — or, rather, Gareth’s secret service sub-section — had also got some of the books hidden away far from public gaze in the government archives. Or, perhaps, kept in some secret research establishments, where the sciences in the books were being tested.

Jake opened the box file where he kept Lauren’s notes, and started to flick through them until he came to her ‘List of possible hiding places’. He concentrated on those in the Glastonbury area, and soon had twelve named sites highlighted in yellow. He was just marking a thirteenth, when his phone rang.

‘Jake Wells,’ he said.

‘Stop searching for the books.’

The voice was a man’s, speaking low. It sounded as if it was muffled in some way, to stop it from being recognised.

‘Excuse me?’ said Jake, playing for time.

There was the briefest of pauses, then the voice said menacingly: ‘Don’t play games, Mr Wells. The Malichea books. Stop searching for them, or you will find yourself in serious trouble. Very serious trouble.’

‘Is this a threat?’ asked Jake, lightly, doing his best to sound casual.

‘Yes it is,’ said the voice, sounding even more menacing. ‘You are being watched. If you don’t stop looking for the books, you will be dealt with. People have died trying to find these books. You don’t want yours to be the next death.’

Then all Jake could hear was the tone; the caller had hung up.

Immediately, Jake dialled 1471, but just got the time the call had been made, with the addition: ‘The caller withheld their number.’

Yes, of course he did, thought Jake.

Who had it been? Gareth, possibly, or one of his minions. But why do this, when Gareth had already warned him off face to face?

The Watchers, possibly. The secret organisation dedicated to protecting the hidden books. But the Watchers didn’t go in for violence. At least, not as far as he could make out. Not that this had been actual violence, just the threat of it. You don’t want yours to be the next death. Very crude. But effective. Jake had already had experience of how ruthless the people in the whole Malichea business could be. This death threat may have just been a bluff, or it could be the real thing. But one thing Jake was sure: if finding one of the books could bring Lauren and he back together, then he’d take that chance.

He looked at his watch. It was just gone ten o’clock. In less than an hour he’d be talking to Lauren again, seeing her. Especially now he had A Plan. He switched on his computer and checked his emails, his heart lifting as he saw there was one from Lauren among all the usual spam.

He opened the email from Lauren, and felt a jolt of disappointment as he read it. Hey Jake, Can’t do Skype today/tonight because I’ve got to go into the office for a meeting. In fact, it looks as if I’m going to be in meetings every day this week, because there’s a big Antarctic research expedition about to happen that we’re involved in. And — with the twelve-hour time difference between us — the best time will be after I’ve finished work at the end of the week. I suggest this Friday at 8 p.m. (when it will be 8 o’clock on Saturday morning for you). Will that be OK? Or is that too early for you? We can make it later — 9 a.m. or 10 a.m.? Miss you lots, S xx.