Lauren nodded. ‘We need to find out about this place.’ She turned to Jake and asked, ‘Can you ask about it at work? After all, it’s part of your department.’
‘Last time I tried that I nearly got pushed under a tube train,’ Jake pointed out. ‘Anyway, it’ll be easier to Google it. Everything there is to know about everything is on the internet.’
‘Yes, but if they’re watching us, they could be hacked into our computers,’ pointed out Parsons. ‘Every time we do a search, they’ll be checking on what we’re looking for.’
Jake groaned. ‘Modern technology. Nothing’s secret any more! We can’t do anything without them knowing what we’re up to!’
‘No, but someone can,’ said Parsons thoughtfully. ‘I’ve got a cousin who’s a computer whizz.’
‘Does this cousin have a name?’ asked Lauren.
‘Joe,’ said Parsons. ‘Still at school, but an absolute computer genius. If we want anything done without anything anyone knowing, Joe’s our key.’
Great, thought Jake sourly. Some paranoid schoolboy computer geek who lives on junk food and thinks the world is involved in some giant conspiracy against him.
They left Robert still revving the engine of his van purely to annoy his neighbours, and set off for Hackney. At least we’re heading back to my side of town, thought Jake. He always felt more comfortable in the part of London he lived in and knew. At least, he had felt more comfortable before all this business began. Now he didn’t feel comfortable anywhere.
Parsons’s cousin lived with his single mother on a large estate. As they walked through the estate, Jake was aware of gangs of youths on bikes and skateboards watching them as they hung around in groups by dilapidated garages.
‘We should have got a taxi,’ he muttered.
Parsons shrugged.
‘They won’t harm you,’ he said. ‘They’re just checking you out, seeing if you’re a threat.’ He gave a wry sigh. ‘Or a victim. Those are the two types who suffer here. Threats from outside, and victims. Just make sure you don’t look like either.’
‘How do I do that?’ asked Jake.
Parsons shrugged again.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’ve never thought about it.’
I think too much, that’s my trouble, thought Jake ruefully. I think and worry. I see danger everywhere, especially lately. I never used to be like this! Then he amended that. Yes, I did, he thought. He’d always been worried about things. Being mugged or murdered. Being buried alive. Falling to his death from a tall building. In fact, there hadn’t been much that hadn’t kept Jake in an almost perpetual state of anxiety. Until Lauren came along and changed his life. Brought sunshine and happiness into it. And then he’d messed it up, and she’d left, and the misery and gloom and fears had come back again.
They reached a high-rise block of flats.
‘This is it,’ said Parsons. ‘Twelfth floor.’
Oh God, not the lifts, thought Jake. Lifts always stank of urine, and broke down.
‘Shall we take the stairs?’ he said.
Parsons nodded.
‘I was going to suggest that, if you two didn’t mind,’ he said.
Lauren looked up at the towering block.
‘Fine by me, if it’s fine by you two.’ She shrugged.
By the time they reached the tenth floor, Jake was exhausted. His legs and back ached and he was so out of breath he felt he might well need oxygen. Lauren noticed he was lagging behind and turned back. ‘Are you OK, Jake?’ she asked.
Jake forced a smile.
‘Fine,’ he managed to splutter out. ‘I don’t think I’m as fit as I used to be.’
‘You’re spending too much time at a desk,’ said Lauren. ‘You need to get out more.’
‘I will,’ Jake promised.
As they mounted the stairs for the last two flights, he felt happier. That had been a genuine look of concern for him on Lauren’s face.
They reached the twelfth floor and walked to a flat midway along the balcony.
‘Here we are,’ said Parsons. He rang the doorbell. The door opened just a little and a harassed-looking woman peered out at them through the crack. She relaxed when she saw who it was.
‘Carl!’ she said.
‘Hello, Aunt Midge.’ Parsons smiled. ‘I phoned Joe and said I’d be over.’
Aunt Midge looked at Jake and Lauren standing beside him, and her face became worried again. She cast a nervous look inside the flat, and then asked in an urgent whisper, ‘This isn’t one of those interventions, is it? Because really Joe is . . .’
‘No, no,’ Parsons assured her with a laugh. ‘It really is just a call. We’ve got something to ask Joe.’