The Last Enemy(7)

‘Yes yes.’ Bullen nodded impatiently. ‘Can we get back to the present time. Today. So, you went to Muswell Hill?’

‘Yes. I got there just before half past one and waited, but no one turned up. Then, at a quarter to two, I got a text from them saying they couldn’t make it after all. So I drove back home.’

‘Through Crouch End Broadway?’

‘Yes,’ said Jake. ‘That’s the most direct route to Finsbury Park from Muswell Hill.’

‘So you would have been in Crouch End Broadway at about 2 p.m.?’

‘No. I was driving through Crouch End Broadway about ten minutes or so before two o’clock. As I’ve told you already, I left Muswell Hill at a quarter to two. The road was pretty clear.’

‘We’ve checked with the CCTV cameras in the area, and they show your car in the area of Crouch End Broadway at 1.54 p.m.’

‘OK. So it was six minutes to two.’

‘But you were in the area. You could have parked . . .’

‘But I didn’t! Look, check my mobile phone records. You’ll find the text I told you I got telling me the person couldn’t make it, and the time. Quarter to two.’

Bullen nodded.

‘We will,’ he said.

‘And I never had a meeting of any sort scheduled with Alex Munro,’ Jake repeated firmly. ‘So, like I say, if my name’s in his diary for this afternoon, then it’s obvious that someone’s framing me. Especially when you add in the mystery person who fixed up the meeting in Muswell Hill, and then cancelled, knowing full well I’d be getting to Crouch End right at the time Munro was being killed. It’s a set-up!’

‘Who would want to frame you for Mr Munro’s murder?’ asked Bullen.

Loads of people, thought Jake. Nearly everyone I’ve ever met who’ve been involved in the Malichea business.

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Jake. ‘But it wouldn’t surprise me to find out it’s the same people who stole my bag today.’

Bullen frowned.

‘Stole your bag?’ he repeated.

‘Yes.’ Jake nodded. ‘From the British Library. You can check. Their security people said they’d be reporting it to the police, and I said I’d be reporting it too. So, you can start taking details of that, as well.’

‘We will. But first, I’d like to concentrate on what happened at Crouch End Broadway.’

‘I’ve told you, I had nothing to do with that!’

‘And this Guy de Courcey . . .’

‘I’ve already told you, I don’t know anyone called Guy de Courcey!’ snapped Jake angrily. ‘Look, I’ve tried to tell you that I’ve been framed, and that this could be linked to my bag being stolen from the British Library today. Someone who the staff at the British Library can describe to you. But you don’t seem interested! We’ve had our initial chat, as you call it, and I’ve told you the truth. I’m not saying anything more until I’ve seen my solicitor.’

Bullen hesitated, then nodded.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We’ll get on to the British Library and see what they say. And, as soon as your solicitor gets in touch, we’ll talk again. Until then, the constable will take you to a cell.’

‘But I’m innocent!’ protested Jake. ‘I’ve told you what happened!’

‘We need to check out some of what you’ve said. Until then, we’ll need to keep you here for when your solicitor arrives.’ For the tape, he added, ‘Interview terminated at 7.30 p.m.’ Then he gestured to the uniformed constable by the door. ‘Constable, take Mr Wells to cell number two.’





Chapter 3




Lauren dialled the number again. So far she’d tried Gareth’s home number six times, and on each occasion all she’d got was an answerphone with a mechanical voice asking her to leave a message. This time she got a real voice.

‘Hello?’ said a woman.

Lauren was aware of the nervous tone in her voice. But then, that could be because her husband was involved in the espionage business, and you’d always be worried about who might be calling.

‘Can I speak to Mr Gareth Findlay-Weston, please?’ she asked. ‘It’s urgent.’

‘I’m afraid Mr Findlay-Weston isn’t here,’ said the woman.

‘When will he be back?’ asked Lauren.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you,’ said the woman. ‘Goodbye.’

‘No!’ shouted Lauren. ‘Please! My name’s Lauren Graham. Mr Findlay-Weston knows me. Jake Wells needs his help. He’s been arrested on a false charge of killing Alex Munro . . .’