The Invisible Assassin(53)
Jake thought about negotiating public transport: buses or underground trains, or even taxis, and realised he still felt very vulnerable.
‘Yes, please,’ he said.
They drove in silence for most of the way, with Clark texting busily beside him, but as they neared his flats she said, ‘Mr Munro will be in touch with you very shortly.’
‘Oh?’
‘About the missing books,’ she said. ‘He is sure you will be able to help us. Let me assure you, it will be a relationship that could be very advantageous to you. After all, I can imagine that your job situation must be a bit precarious at the moment.’
Gareth! The realisation hit Jake hard. With everything that had gone on – being attacked by the duo, finding the dead man in his flat, Parsons being murdered and Lauren on the run – all that had pushed what had happened at work the previous morning out of his mind. He had to get in touch with Gareth and come up with some explanation. But what could he say? I thought you were trying to kill me?
‘We are experts at employment law,’ said Clark. ‘We can negotiate a very good settlement for you, if your employers try to sack you, or you want to leave.’
‘Thanks,’ said Jake, awkwardly.
‘I suggest we meet later today to discuss the best way to deal with your current employers.’ She checked her planner. ‘I’ve got a full programme, but I can do five o’clock, if that’s good for you?’
Pierce Randall are taking over my life, he thought. I don’t want this! I want to be free. I want things to be like they were, only with me and Lauren happy and together. But he heard himself say numbly, ‘OK.’
‘Five it is,’ she said, and she tapped in the appointment on her planner. ‘I’ll see you at Pierce Randall’s offices. Just give your name at reception.’
The car had arrived outside Jake’s flats.
‘Five it is,’ he said, as he opened the door. ‘And, thank you.’
‘All part of the Pierce Randall service,’ said Clark. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Jake watched the car move away, then he turned to look at his small block of flats. Home! He was free! He had no intention of going back to Pierce Randall at five, or any other time. At least, not until he’d got his head together and sorted out what was going on, and whom he could trust. And work out where the danger he was facing was coming from.
He had to get away. Out of sight, somewhere safe. But where?
He suddenly realised he hadn’t switched his mobile on. He’d turned it off while he was being interviewed at the police station, and then kept it switched off while he was in the car. He turned it on, and saw he had a message: a missed call. When he saw the number his heart gave a leap. Lauren had called! He rang her number immediately. She answered at the first ring.
‘Jake!’ Her voice sounded nervous, frightened. But then, considering what she must have been through, that wasn’t surprising.
‘Lauren! Where are you?’
‘I can’t tell you, in case they’re listening in.’
‘What happened with Carl?’
‘Oh, Jake, it was horrible!’ Her words came tumbling out. ‘I changed my mind.’
‘About what?’
‘About letting him have the book to look after. It was my project, I should be the one to take care of it. But when I said this to Carl, he got upset and tried to force me to give it to him.’
‘Because he was a Watcher,’ said Jake.
‘A what?’ asked Lauren, her tone bewildered.
‘They were – are – an organisation set up to watch over the books. Take care of them. Protect them.’
‘No. He wanted it because he’d arranged to sell it to someone.’
‘To sell it?!’ Jake repeated, shocked.
‘Yes. When I wouldn’t hand over the book to him, he . . .’ she hesitated, ‘he picked up a knife and threatened me with it. I’d never seen him like that before. He was going on about how much money there was at stake. Millions! It wasn’t the Carl I knew. He was frightening.’
‘So he used us to get the book for him?’
‘Yes!’ From her voice, Jake could tell she was crying now. ‘Anyway, he came at me and . . . we struggled . . . and then . . . I grabbed at his wrist to try and stop him cutting me with the knife, and . . .’ Over the phone, Jake heard her take a series of deep breaths.
‘There’s no need to say it.’
‘There is,’ she said. ‘It was an accident. We were struggling, and then suddenly his body went limp and he fell to the floor, moaning. That’s when I saw the handle of the knife sticking out of his chest.’