The Last Enemy(8)

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

And this time the phone was hung up.

‘I’m not letting it go like that,’ said Lauren grimly to herself; and she redialled the number. This time she got the recorded answerphone announcement, the mechanical voice asking her to leave a message.

Damn!



The turnkey unlocked the cell and gestured Jake inside. As the heavy metal door clanged shut behind him, Jake saw that there was someone else already in the cell, a young man in his early twenties. He was sitting on a bench, and he looked up inquisitively at Jake.

‘Let me guess,’ said the young man. ‘You must be Jacob Wells.’

The young man’s accent was right out of the upper class; a clipped drawl.

‘Yes,’ said Jake warily. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Guy de Courcey. I believe you’re my alleged fellow-conspirator.’

‘I had nothing to do with any murder!’ snapped Jake.

‘You and me both.’ Guy nodded. ‘But it’s worth saying it for the tape.’

‘What tape?’ queried Jake, looking around.

‘A hidden mic somewhere,’ said Guy. ‘It’s the only reason I can think of for the police putting us together, hoping we’ll say something that will incriminate us. Unless there’s a shortage of cells in this place, of course. Which is possible. After all, it’s a Saturday night. Great night for street brawls.’ He grinned. ‘So, do you prefer Jacob or Jake?’

‘Jake,’ said Jake despite himself. There was a lot about the young man’s superior attitude that annoyed him, but at the same time he couldn’t help but admit that he also had some charm. It was in his smile and his confident manner. Despite being locked up in a police cell, Guy de Courcey didn’t seem at all troubled by the situation. The opposite in fact: he appeared almost amused about the whole thing.

‘Have the police told you that we apparently had a meeting with this Alex Munro this afternoon?’ Guy asked.

‘Yes.’ Jake sat down on the other bench in the cell. It was hard, just a concrete shelf. ‘I told them I didn’t have any such meeting. Not today, or any other day.’

‘I did,’ said Guy. ‘But not in a café in Crouch End at two o’clock. My appointment with him was for ten tomorrow morning at his office. I was nowhere near Crouch End at two o’clock.’

‘So, you’ve got an alibi?’

‘Yes, but it’s certainly not one the police are taking seriously. I was asleep in a hotel room the whole afternoon. And alone. Jet lag. That doesn’t count as an alibi as far they are concerned.’ He regarded Jake with an intrigued frown. ‘Are you saying that you don’t even know this Munro character?’

‘No,’ said Jake, shaking his head. ‘I’ve met him, but not for a long time. I certainly haven’t had any contact with him for months.’

‘Yet the police say your name was in his diary, along with mine.’

Jake shrugged.

‘Someone’s setting me up,’ he said.

‘The police?’ asked Guy. He shook his head. ‘From my experience, the police in this country don’t set you up as blatantly as they do in some others.’ He looked at Jake in a superior way, and added, ‘Well, they might set people like you up. But generally, they play honest where I’m concerned.’ He gave a smile. ‘That’s one of the advantages of having a title.’

Jake frowned.

‘A title?’ he echoed.

‘Viscount Guy de Courcey. At least, I was, but now I guess I’m the new earl, since the old man died.’ He gave Jake a broad grin. ‘Yes, you are sharing a prison cell with the Earl de Courcey.’

‘Am I supposed to be impressed?’ Jake asked sarcastically.

Guy shrugged.

‘No,’ he said. ‘But a lot of people are. It’s amazing what having a title does. You can get tables in exclusive restaurants, seats for concerts . . .’

‘And put in a police cell,’ pointed out Jake.

Guy laughed and Jake’s animosity towards the young earl faded slightly. Anyone who could laugh at himself couldn’t be all bad.

‘Good point,’ chuckled Guy. ‘Though with me, it’s an occupational hazard, one I’ve become used to. Which is why I guess that right now, some poor bored copper is sitting listening to our words of wisdom through a hidden microphone somewhere in this cell.’ He gestured towards the light fitting, which was set high in the ceiling and protected by a wire cage. ‘Possibly there. Maybe even a closed-circuit TV camera to keep an eye on us. That’s how they do it in some of the places I’ve been.’