He headed into the tube station and got on an eastbound train back towards the city centre. He had to hide; and the best place to hide was in a place filled with people. Safety in numbers, while he worked out what he was going to do next.
Chapter 20
As Jake came out of the entrance of Tottenham Court Road station into Oxford Street, his mobile rang. Michelle calling him back? He looked at the screen: number withheld, but it could still be Michelle.
‘Hello?’ he said.
It was Gareth.
‘All right, Jake. Bring it to me.’
‘Bring what?’
‘The book you found at Glastonbury, of course.’
‘Book?’ queried Jake.
Gareth exploded in anger.
‘For heaven’s sake, you didn’t think I was that gullible to believe you’d suddenly developed a major interest in all things King Arthur, did you? We knew what you were up to, but we decided to let you go ahead and keep an eye on you and see if you turned up anything. And look what happens! Your friend, Robert, for example. In a coma with a fractured skull.’
As he heard these words, Jake felt sick.
‘Is he going to be all right?’ he asked.
Even as he said it, the words felt lame and foolish. Inadequate. Robert had been beaten almost to death, and it was his fault. He had got Robert involved.
‘Is he going to die, you mean?’ snapped Gareth. ‘Frankly, we don’t know. The doctors say he’s only got a forty per cent chance of surviving. The point is, Jake, the people who did it are still out there, and looking for you. You’re next. So bring the book to me and stop this now.’
‘I haven’t got it,’ Jake mumbled.
There was a brief pause, then Gareth said, ‘Jake, I don’t think you understand your position and how much danger you’re in, so I’ll spell it out for you. Your friend has had his skull crushed. He may well die. They thought he had the book. He didn’t. They are now coming after you, and they will kill you unless you give them the book, or tell them where it is. I can protect you. Bring the book to me now.’
‘All right,’ said Jake. He had to play for time. ‘I’ll bring it to your office.’
Before Gareth could respond, Jake ended the call. Almost immediately, his phone rang.
Michelle, or Gareth calling back, angry at having been cut off?
‘Jake Wells,’ he said.
‘Alex Munro,’ said Alex Munro’s familiar self-assured voice. ‘Your friendly taxi service.’
Jake tensed.
‘I’m a bit busy at the moment,’ he said. And that’s an understatement, he thought.
‘Yes, the book you’ve got,’ said Munro in an almost casual way. ‘The one you found at Glastonbury.’ There was a brief pause, then he added: ‘A pity about your friend. I understand he’s in a bad way.’
How did Munro know all this so soon? thought Jake. But then he reflected that Pierce Randall had contacts everywhere: in the police, inside the Department of Science, possibly in Gareth’s own office.
‘Yes he is,’ he said grimly, adding angrily: ‘and if I find you were behind it . . .’
‘No no, Jake, I assure you,’ said Munro quickly and smoothly. ‘You should know by now that violence is not our style.’
No, but it’s the style of some of the people you use, and who you represent, thought Jake. The Mafia and a whole load of other organised criminal gangs, for example.
‘You’re at serious risk, Jake,’ continued Munro. ‘I can save you, and give you what you want. Just bring me the book.’
‘No,’ said Jake. ‘This one’s going out into the public domain. This one is going to prove to the world that the secret library of Malichea exists.’
‘Which is our aim, too, Jake,’ said Munro smoothly.
‘No it isn’t,’ snapped back Jake. ‘You want to sell this to the highest bidder and keep it secret, just like everyone else. The difference is that you’ll patent what’s in it and make a fortune from it.’
‘You mean you’ve looked inside it?’ said Munro, and now Jake heard a new eagerness in his voice. ‘What’s the subject matter, Jake? Who’s it by?’
Jake hesitated. He was on the point of admitting he didn’t know, he hadn’t even opened the book, then he stopped himself. Don’t give anything away, he told himself. Let Munro think that Jake knew what the contents were. He might need a bargaining chip of some sort in the future.
‘Jake, we can help you,’ said Munro. ‘You want Ms Graham back, we can arrange that. As I told you earlier, dealing with governments is one of our main areas of expertise. Just bring me the book . . .’