‘I’ve got a Gemma Hayward on the line, Ms Clark,’ she said. ‘She said you were talking to her brother, Dan, the other day.’
Immediately, Clark was alert.
‘Put her through,’ she said.
Jasper Brigstocke’s Antiquarian Bookshop was a narrow-fronted shop on a tiny old street about halfway between Notting Hill Gate and Queensway underground stations. Although the surrounding area was busy with traffic and people, this street was virtually deserted; just a few people using it as a short cut between the main thoroughfares.
The shop was ancient. The door and window displays were dusty. The books in the window looked as if they’d been there even longer than the shop.
‘It doesn’t look like a business that makes a lot of money,’ commented Jake.
‘Maybe that’s just a cover,’ suggested Lauren. ‘Keeps the tax man off his back.’
Jake was about to push the door to go in, when he saw that the sign hanging inside the glass panel said ‘Closed’.
‘What!’ he scowled. ‘Closed! We’ve come all this way for nothing!’
Lauren pressed her nose against the glass. As she did so, the door swung inwards.
Jake and Lauren exchanged puzzled looks.
‘D’you think he’d really go out and leave his shop unlocked?’ asked Jake. ‘Especially in London.’
‘Maybe he just forgot to turn the “Closed” sign back to “Open”,’ suggested Lauren.
She pushed the door open wider and stepped in, Jake close behind her.
The shop had been trashed. Books had been pulled from the shelves and lay scattered on the floor.
‘Trouble,’ whispered Jake apprehensively.
‘Hello!’ Lauren called. ‘Mr Brigstocke!’
There was no answer.
‘Maybe we should call the police,’ she muttered.
‘Let’s see if Brigstocke’s here first,’ said Jake. ‘He may have already done that.’
The shop, although narrow, seemed never-ending. As they walked through it, doing their best to avoid treading on the books on the floor, they could see that it widened out, as if it expanded into the neighbouring shops.
It was a maze of very tall free-standing wooden shelves that formed alleyways. Each shelf must have been stacked with books, most of which were now ankle-deep on the floor.
Again, Lauren called out, ‘Mr Brigstocke!’ There was no reply, just a silence hanging over the whole shop.
They moved along one of the narrow alleyways, over the carpet of scattered books, and finally, at the back of the shop they came to a door with the word ‘Office’ on a nameplate fixed to it.
Jake rapped on the door, at the same time calling, ‘Mr Brigstocke! Hello!’
There was still no answer.
The door swung inwards.
‘Mr Brigstocke?’ said Jake, stepping inside. Then he stopped.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Lauren.
‘Don’t come in,’ said Jake, his voice shaking.
He tried to stop Lauren, but it was too late. Lauren uttered a sound that was half scream, half groan.
A man was tied to a high-backed wooden chair. He was dead; that was obvious from the lifeless eyes staring out from the pale bloodstained face. But what was worse was the sight of the fingers on the floor by his feet, and the dried blood smearing the wooden chair near his hand, where those fingers had once been.
Chapter 17
Lauren stumbled outside the room and suddenly threw up. Jake knew how she felt; at the sight of Jasper Brigstocke’s dead and mutilated body, he could feel the contents of his own stomach rising up in his throat, but he did his best to keep them down.
‘We have to call the police,’ panted Lauren.
‘No,’ said Jake. ‘Bullen will think we did this, and he’ll lock me up. We have to stay free if we’re going to prove our innocence.’
Lauren shook her head, her face deathly pale.
‘Do you think Pierce Randall did this?’ she asked hoarsely.
‘I don’t know,’ said Jake. ‘All I know is we have to get out of here, and fast.’
A short time later Jake and Lauren were in a café at Marble Arch; their cups of coffee sat on the table, untouched. For both of them, the image of Jasper Brigstocke, tortured to death, filled their minds.
‘We have to get a hold of ourselves,’ Jake whispered. ‘And we have to move fast. Once the police discover Brigstocke’s body and they start checking for fingerprints, they’ll find ours at the shop and they’ll put out a search for us.’
‘How do we stop them?’ asked Lauren. She was still in a state of shock.
‘Just like we said before: we find The Index,’ said Jake. ‘It’s not just the proof about the Order of Malichea, and why all this has been happening, it’s our bargaining tool. Pierce Randall, MI5, everyone will make sure we’re free if we’ve got that.’