‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and check it out.’ Turning to the Boxer, he said, ‘You stay here and keep an eye on him. I’ll phone you when I get to his place.’ Turning back to Jake, he asked: ‘Keys?’
‘In my pocket.’
Shorty rummaged around in Jake’s pocket, and pulled out the two keys.
‘My address is . . .’ began Jake, but Shorty cut him off.
‘We know where you live, stupid. That’s where we started.’ He pocketed the keys, and said warningly to the Boxer, ‘Don’t let him try any funny business. If he does, shoot him in the leg, like you said.’ To Jake, he said menacingly, ‘If the book’s not there, you are in for some very serious pain.’
With that, Shorty went to the garage door, opened it, stepped outside, and slammed it closed again. They heard the car engine start up.
The Boxer took the gun from his pocket and pointed it at Jake.
‘A bullet in the leg is very, very painful,’ he said threateningly. ‘You have been warned.’
Chapter 24
Jake sat, tied to the chair, and watched the Boxer, waiting for any sign that he might have a chance to overpower him. Maybe if he came near enough he could trip him, topple him over, and kick him in the head, knocking him unconscious. But even as he said it to himself, Jake knew it was a fantasy. The Boxer stayed at a distance from Jake, sitting on an upturned crate, the gun held confidently in his big fist, his eyes fixed on Jake the whole time.
Jake had been relieved when he knew that Shorty was going to be the one going to his flat. In his mind, Shorty was the nasty one. He also seemed to be the cleverest of the pair. Left alone with the Boxer, Jake might have a chance. Left alone with Shorty, Jake knew he’d have no chance whatsoever. But the reality of the Boxer being left to guard him was that Jake had no chance of getting away from either of them. All he could do was sit and wait, and think about what would happen when Shorty discovered there was no book.
Jake and the Boxer had been sitting in the same positions for what Jake thought must have been an hour, when the Boxer’s mobile rang.
‘Yes?’ said the Boxer. He listened, then turned to Jake. ‘He says it’s not there.’
‘It is!’ insisted Jake desperately, trying to think his way out of this. ‘It’s on top of the wardrobe in a white plastic shopping bag!’
The Boxer walked towards Jake, the phone in one hand, the gun in the other.
‘He wants to talk to you,’ he said. And he held the phone to Jake’s ear.
‘You lied!’ hissed Shorty’s angry voice. ‘You sent me on a fool’s errand! I’m going to take you apart bit by bit when I get back!’
‘It’s there!’ shouted Jake desperately. ‘I left it there when I got back from Glastonbury!’ He paused, then added in a flash of inspiration: ‘Someone must have taken it.’
‘Who?’ demanded Shorty.
‘Anyone,’ said Jake. ‘Pierce Randall. The Watchers. MI5. Any one of all the people who are after it!’
There was a pause, then Shorty said, ‘I’m going to have another look round. But if it ain’t here, you’re in serious trouble when I get back.’
The phone went dead. The Boxer put it back in his inside pocket.
‘He doesn’t like it when people try to play him for a mug,’ he told Jake menacingly. Then he went back to the crate, and sat down again, his eyes and the gun on Jake.
It seemed all too soon to Jake when they heard the sound of the car pulling up outside and the garage door being lifted up. Shorty walked in, and closed the garage door shut behind him. He walked over to Jake and punched him hard in the face.
‘No one plays me for a sucker and gets away with it!’ He snarled. He punched Jake hard in the face again, and this time Jake felt blood pour down from his nostrils and tasted the salty liquid on his lips.
‘It was there!’ he managed to blurt out through the pain. ‘Where I said it was. Someone must have taken it!’
‘Who?’ demanded Shorty angrily. ‘Who else is after it? We were told if you hadn’t got it, the only others who might know where it was were your pal, Robert George, and that reporter woman, Michelle; so we were to stake them out.’
‘There’s more than that,’ said Jake. ‘There’s all those people I said: Pierce Randall. The Watchers. MI5.’
‘What have MI5 got to do with it?’ asked the Boxer, curious.
‘He’s lying,’ snapped Shorty dismissively.
‘The book’s a government secret,’ said Jake. ‘Ask whoever’s paying you, if you don’t believe me. All of them are looking for the book, and all of them know I’ve got it.’ He spat out a mouthful of blood and looked Shorty directly in the eyes. ‘I thought you must be working for one of them.’