‘Good,’ said Munro. ‘Oh, and if you need anything at all during the night, or if you feel alarmed, there is a concierge on duty twenty-four hours a day. Just pick up the red handset.’
‘All-round protection,’ commented Jake.
‘Nothing is too good for our clients,’ said Munro.
Chapter 21
Keith dropped Jake off in the underground car park, and Jake went through the security systems for the lift and the door to the apartment, still half expecting someone to leap out and attack him the whole time. Even when he got into the apartment, he went from room to room, checking to make sure no one was hiding anywhere in it.
I’m not paranoid, he told himself, just terrified.
He went into the kitchen and stood studying the equipment. Everything looked very hi-tech, as if it all needed a degree in computing to operate. I need a coffee, he said to himself. Luckily, the kettle seemed simple enough. He was just filling it with water when his mobile rang. Lauren, he thought as he snatched it up and pressed connect.
‘Lauren?’
‘No, sorry,’ said a woman’s voice. It was Penny Johnson, the reporter.
‘I don’t need this,’ said Jake wearily. ‘I’ve had a very very bad day.’
‘I know,’ said Johnson.
‘No, you don’t,’ said Jake.
‘Last night you took a book from Hadley Park Research Establishment. A man was found dead in your flat. You were arrested as a suspect. You’ve got to go back for questioning tomorrow morning. Your ex-girlfriend is on the run, accused of killing her boyfriend. You’ve just got in from seeing Alex Munro of Pierce Randall. How am I doing?’
Jake hesitated. This didn’t sound like some reporter on a local newspaper; unless she was gathering credits to get a job on one of the majors.
‘We need to talk,’ said Johnson.
‘I don’t think I want to talk to you.’
‘It could help Lauren,’ said Johnson.
Jake was silent for a moment. It was a con, he was sure of it. She was just a journalist looking for a story. But he remembered their previous meeting, when she’d dropped that she knew about the Order of Malichea, and her closing words: The book needs to go back to its rightful owners. Penny Johnson was involved in this case, and not just as a reporter.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Come and see me. I’m at –’
‘I know where you are,’ she interrupted him. ‘It’s too dangerous for me. There’s a bar at the corner of the street, The Lounge. I’ll see you there in five minutes.’
The phone went dead.
Too dangerous for me? Jake thought. Where was the danger? This apartment had to be one of the safest places on the planet. If he left here, he’d be out in the open, definitely at risk. But she’d used the magic words: It could help Lauren.
The Lounge sounded like the kind of bar you’d expect to find in some swish upmarket hotel. It wasn’t. Away from the plush expensiveness of the apartment block, the street became a series of boarded-up terraced houses awaiting development. Jake guessed they would become part of the new upmarket Pierce Randall development, more hi-tech apartments. Old London disappearing to make way for New London. Just past the boarded-up houses was The Lounge, a dingy-looking pub on the corner. The sound of thumping early sixties music came from it. It’s going to be full of geezers, thought Jake apprehensively. Geezers and old-time gangsters. He felt nervous just pushing open the door.
To his surprise, the pub was nearly empty. Just a few people, mainly men, sitting at tables with pints of ale in front of them. This clientele was a far cry from the high-flying financial whizz-kids of the city, and the lawyers from Pierce Randall in their expensive suits. The men in here were mainly middle-aged or old, and wearing suits that had gone out of fashion decades ago. If they were ever in fashion. No one looked like a hard man, or a special forces soldier.
The clientele looked at Jake as he came in, and then disregarded him, turning back to their talk of football, betting, the telly, and how much better things used to be in the old days.
They’ll be gone soon, reflected Jake. Like the buildings. Once the new hi-tech buildings are here, this pub will be gone, or turned into a yuppie watering hole, filled with the sounds of Blackberries and iPhones going off, and these old guys will have to find somewhere else to go.
He looked around the pub and saw Penny Johnson sitting alone at a corner table with a glass in front of her. No one was near her. Jake walked over to the table and sat down.
‘What’s all this stuff about the apartment being too dangerous?’ he asked. ‘That place is a lot safer than here.’