The Invisible Assassin(48)

‘The whole apartment block is owned by Pierce Randall.’

‘So?’

She gestured towards the back of the pub.

‘See the door to the toilets?’

Jake nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘It leads to a back door out on to the street. A fire exit. Go out and wait for me. I’ll join you in a minute.’

‘Why?’ asked Jake.

‘Because at least two people have already been killed so far,’ said Johnson. ‘I don’t intend to be the next victim.’

As Jake walked towards the fire exit he thought to himself, Why am I doing this? Why am I following her instructions? People have tried to kill me. For all I know, she’s got a couple of heavies waiting for me as soon as I step into the street.

He hesitated, then stopped and turned. Johnson was sitting at the table, sipping at her drink, as if everything was normal. She saw him looking back at her, and winked and smiled.

What’s that about? thought Jake. A wink and a smile, at a time like this! Then it hit him; she was playing a role, just in case anyone was watching. He looked around. There didn’t seem to be any suspicious characters in here. Well, not many. But then again, what did a suspicious character look like? Not all of them had knife scars down one side of their face. There was something suspicious about Sue Clark, for example. But then, she was a lawyer.

He looked again at Johnson, and this time she raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

I should walk back and tell her I’m not going outside that door, he thought. If she’s got anything to tell me, she can tell me here and now.

Then he thought: but she seems to know what’s going on. And if she doesn’t want to talk here, there has to be a reason for it. And she did say that what she has to say could help Lauren.

He turned back towards the door leading to the toilets and the fire exit.

The alley at the back of the pub was dark. There was one street light some distance away, with a bulb that flickered, casting an eerie on–off light on the back door, throwing many shadows. In any one of those shadows someone could be waiting, with a gun aimed at him, or a knife ready to stick into him.

He shivered at the thought, and at the cold wind that chilled him. It was late and it was dark and it was cold. Where was Penny Johnson? He looked at the back door, waiting for her to appear. Hurry up, he urged her silently, feeling very vulnerable.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of boots approaching. He spun round. The alley was empty. The boots were approaching from a side road.

It was a trap! he thought. She sold me out!

He hurried to the back door of the pub, but found it jammed shut. It was a fire exit that only opened outwards. There was no way back into the pub that way.

He broke into a run, heading away from the pub, towards the flickering street light. At least it would offer some form of sanctuary; they might not attack him by a light, where their faces might be caught and identified on CCTV. As he reached the corner of the building, a figure clad in leathers and wearing a motorcycle helmet stepped out and crashed into him.

‘I haven’t got it!’ he yelled defensively, throwing up his hands to defend himself against the blows he expected to rain down on him.

‘I know you haven’t, you idiot!’ snapped a young woman’s voice. Johnson!

Jake gaped at her face looking back at him in annoyance.

‘What was all that business of hanging about in the pub?’ she demanded.

‘I didn’t know if I could trust you,’ he said. ‘And, anyway, what took you so long?’

She gestured at her motorbike leathers. ‘These don’t slip on in just seconds,’ she said. She held out her hand, and Jake realised she was holding a second motorcycle helmet. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Put this on.’

‘Why?’ asked Jake.

‘Because it’s against the law to ride a motorbike without one,’ she said. ‘Even pillion.’





Chapter 22




The journey on Penny Johnson’s motorbike was one of the scariest rides of Jake’s life. He’d hoped that she would have something small and discreet, but when she strode over to what looked like something out of a Hell’s Angel movie, his heart sank. She climbed on and kick-started it into life, then gestured for Jake to sit behind her. No sooner was he sat down, than the bike roared off, the acceleration almost pulling him off backwards. Jake had been determined to try to be cool and macho and keep his hands casually behind him. That determination soon vanished, and he wrapped his arms around Johnson’s front. This meant that, even though it was August, his hands were soon freezing from the cold wind, but he hung on grimly as the bike zoomed and swerved in and out of the London traffic.