The Invisible Assassin(21)

The name and address of the lab at Aylesbury was in the file! thought Jake with a sense of elation. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? It would have saved him doing all this cloak and dagger stuff with Paul to try to winkle out the address.

‘Anyway,’ said Jake, ‘I suppose I’d better get on with some work, otherwise people will think I just stand around all day talking.’

‘Of course you do.’ Paul grinned. ‘That’s what we all do. We’re press officers.’

Jake left it for a couple of hours before he went down to archives to look at the file. He didn’t want to rouse any suspicions by going straight there. And he wanted to make sure he had more than one topic to check on, nice innocuous ones that wouldn’t set off any alarm bells.

By eleven o’clock, he had a short list of topics he needed to check: the importance of vitamin B in the battle against Alzheimer’s disease (‘What sorts of foods contain vitamin B?’); the differing levels of radon gas in the various regions of the UK (‘For a story about building regulations.’); the problems with accurately forecasting the weather – a guaranteed and unquestionable topic that arose almost on a daily basis; and – finally, ‘and just out of curiosity’ – the file on the incident that happened out in Bedfordshire with the toxic gas. Just to make sure all the t’s were crossed and the i’s dotted in his report. Nothing in depth, just the press report would do.

Jake’s hands trembled as he opened the file. Would the information about where this so-called ‘canister’ had been taken really be in there? Or would he have to dig deeper? Start asking for more classified files, and so have Gareth breathing down his neck again.

No! It was there!

Jake felt excitement pulsing through him as he saw the words: Canister taken for examination to Hadley Park Research Establishment, Stone, near Aylesbury.

He’d located it!





Chapter 11




At lunchtime, while Jake headed for a nearby sandwich bar to get himself some lunch, he took the opportunity to phone Lauren.

‘Got it!’ he said.

‘Don’t say any more!’ warned Lauren.

‘We need to meet,’ said Jake.

‘OK,’ agreed Lauren. ‘After work. Where we met last time.’

Jake frowned, puzzled. He wasn’t very good at this. Did she mean where they’d last met together, which was the cafeteria outside the British Library? Or did she mean when he’d met her and Parsons, which was the South Bank?

‘When you say ‘‘last time’’ . . . ?’ he enquired.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jake!’ groaned Lauren impatiently. ‘The van!’

She hung up.

Of course, thought Jake, mentally kicking himself: Robert’s van; noisy enough to stop any long-range microphones picking up conversations inside it. But then the opposition, whoever they were, might well have discovered the vehicle by now. In which case, they could well have fixed hidden microphones to it.

But then, reflected Jake, it really was a very noisy van, and it would have to be some supersonic microphone that could survive it.



Seven o’clock that evening found Jake, Lauren and Parsons sitting once more inside the back of Robert’s van, while Robert sat in the front and ran the engine. This time he didn’t even bother taking them for a run, just sat there revving the engine.

‘Won’t he upset the neighbours?’ asked Jake, concerned.

‘He can’t stand his neighbours,’ said Lauren. ‘He keeps hoping they’ll move so he can buy their house and knock the two into one. My guess is revving his engine like this fits into his plan.’

Jake shrugged. So long as they didn’t all get carbon monoxide poisoning from the stationary vehicle.

‘So, what have you found out?’ asked Lauren.

Jake couldn’t help giving her and Parsons a smug smile.

‘I’ve discovered where they took the book,’ he said.

‘What?!’ exclaimed Lauren.

‘Where?’ asked Parsons.

‘A place called Hadley Park Research Establishment. It’s at a village called Stone, near Aylesbury.’

‘You’re sure?’ asked Parsons.

‘Pretty sure,’ said Jake.

He told them what he’d heard from Paul Evans, about the supposed canister being taken to the research establishment.

‘There was no canister,’ he said. ‘But there was the book. And the man who turned into that . . . thing.’

Lauren and Carl exchanged thoughtful looks.

‘It could be there,’ said Parsons. ‘After all, it had to have been taken somewhere. And it would need to be somewhere safe, where they could monitor it.’