Jake was slightly taken aback at this.
‘But . . .’ he began.
‘Listen, Glastonbury gets booked up with all these Arthur pilgrims every weekend,’ said Michelle. ‘You’ve got to move quickly if you want to get a room.’
A room? One? Warning bells sounded in Jake’s head.
‘Actually . . .’ he began awkwardly.
‘Don’t worry about the cost,’ she said. ‘My editor said it sounds like a good story, so the magazine is picking up the tab.
‘When you say “get a room” . . .’ he said.
‘Rooms,’ she corrected him quickly. ‘Two.’
‘Oh,’ said Jake, relieved.
‘Let’s get something clear, Jake,’ she said, and now there was a new note in her voice: a warning tone: ‘I don’t know if you were thinking that we might be sharing a room . . .’
‘No no!’ said Jake quickly.
‘But that’s not what this is about,’ continued Michelle.
‘No, of course not,’ said Jake awkwardly.
God, he felt such an idiot.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you at Glastonbury on Saturday.’
Jake arrived home, feeling invigorated. Robert’s suggestion of using a sniffer dog was a stroke of brilliance. If there was a book to be found, using the dog they’d find it, Jake was sure. In a matter of just a couple of days, ever since he’d come home to find that old book cover on his kitchen table, he’d found a whole new confidence in what he was doing. He’d have Lauren back, and sooner than either of them had expected, of that he was certain!
He walked into his kitchen, glancing at the table, half expecting to find another book cover left on it — perhaps this time a whole book! But the table was clear.
He turned towards the kettle to make himself a drink, and as he did so, he saw the picture. It was stuck to the wall with a knife. It was a photo of Lauren, and her face had a red cross slashed over it, like blood. Underneath the photo were scrawled the words: Samantha Adams, followed by her address in New Zealand. And then the warning: Don’t go to Glastonbury.
Chapter 10
Jake’s mind was in turmoil. They knew who Lauren was. They knew her so-called secret identity. They knew where she lived in New Zealand. And they knew that Jake was planning to go to Glastonbury.
Who were they?
He tried to think of who knew about Lauren becoming Samantha Adams in Wellington. Gareth, obviously. And he was fairly sure that Pierce Randall knew the secret, they seemed to know everything. But Pierce Randall had wanted Jake to find the books for them, not for them to remain hidden. The only people he knew who wanted the books to stay secret were the Watchers, and Gareth and the government people he worked for. Everyone else was after the books because of what they offered: power and money. Was this threat from some organisation that wanted to stop Jake from interfering with their own search for the books? Was it the same people who’d phoned him and threatened him? And now, they were threatening Lauren.
He had to warn her. But how, without the automatic censors cutting them off? If he could Skype her or phone her, he might just be able to get a warning out before the system shut down.
He looked at the clock. Eight o’ clock. It would be eight in the morning in Wellington.
He picked up his phone and dialled her home number. It rang, and continued ringing. As he hung up, he reflected that she must have gone into the office to make sure she was there for these meetings she’d mentioned, the forthcoming Antarctic expedition. At least, he hoped that was why she wasn’t answering.
He tried her mobile number, but all he got was the voicemail asking him to leave a message.
Surely they wouldn’t have done anything to her yet?
His fingers trembled as he switched on his computer and went to his emails, and then relaxed slightly as he read one from Lauren.
Jake. If you try and call, I’ve had to go to the office early for a meeting about the Antarctic expedition.
Just as I thought, mused Jake.
As it’s for a meeting, all phones will be off. But I’ll talk to you on Friday (Saturday your time) as we said. So, King Arthur! Wow! Sounds really interesting. Wish I was with you! Who are you going with? Or will this trip be on your own? Got to go. Love you lots, S. xxx
Jake sat and read the message again. She was all right. At least, she seemed to be OK. He started to type a reply, then he stopped. Should he tell her he was going with Robert and Michelle? Then he’d have to explain who Michelle was. A reporter. A young woman reporter, and Lauren might get the wrong idea of what was going on.
He felt sure Lauren knew she could trust him, but, this far apart, with no way of talking things through and explaining things face to face . . .