The Last Enemy(9)

‘You sound like you’ve been in this situation a few times,’ said Jake, intrigued in spite of himself.

‘Usually only overnight stays, or for a few days, in places like Honduras, Brazil, Mexico. Like I say, once they discover I’m from a titled family, they see dollar signs, and up until recently the family solicitor has generally bailed me out.’

‘I would have thought your family solicitor would have been here already, bailing you out of this one,’ said Jake.

Guy shook his head.

‘I decided against contacting him. He doesn’t like me, thinks I’m a wastrel. And he’s very old-fashioned. You can tell that from his name: Montague Ainsworth of Hapgood, Ainsworth and Ainsworth. This new chap, Alex Munro from Randall Pierce, he sounded interesting. The sort who’d be prepared to cut a few corners. Bend the rules.’

‘Oh yes, he most definitely is,’ said Jake. Then he corrected himself. ‘Was,’ he added. ‘How did you meet Munro?’

‘I never actually met him,’ admitted Guy. ‘He tracked me down to a little place in Mexico, my last port of call. He phoned me up and offered me a plane ticket back to England and all my expenses paid, as well as taking care of some debts. And I have a few of those.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘He wanted to talk to me about some outfit called the Order of Malichea.’

Jake guessed that would be at the heart of this. The murder of Alex Munro. Himself being framed and arrested. But where did his aristocratic cellmate fit in? Or was he a new player in the game?

‘Why you?’ asked Jake.

‘Because it seems my family had some of their books.’

Jake felt a surge of excitement that he tried hard not to show.

‘Which books?’

‘According to Munro, one of them was the Journal of the Order,’ said Guy. ‘You know, the diary of the Order. What went on from year to year. Boring stuff. “Got up. Prayed. Civil War again.” That sort of thing. The other was something called The Index.’

The Index! thought Jake, and now he found it even harder not to show his excitement. Surely this was why Munro had been murdered.

‘Anyway, Pierce Randall seemed the right kind of lawyers to have on your side,’ continued Guy. ‘So I phoned them when I was arrested. I expected them to be here by now.’ Then he sighed and added, ‘Though they could be having second thoughts, seeing as I’m charged with killing their boss.’

‘So, you must know quite a bit about the Order of Malichea,’ said Jake, trying to appear casual.

Guy shook his head.

‘Nothing. I was hoping this character, Munro, would tell me all about them, and these books he was all het up about. But then, the de Courceys have never been that hot on things like books — more hunting, shooting, fishing and gambling. Although there have been a few Churchy types in the family, way back. Not that I know much about them. The old man was always telling me I ought to find out about our family history and the family home, but whatever he told me to do only made sure I didn’t do it.’

‘So where is the family home?’ asked Jake.

‘De Courcey Hall in Kent. At least, it was the family home. It isn’t any more.’ He gave a sigh. ‘Sold, along with everything else.’ He chuckled and added, ‘As a family, we’ve been broke for hundreds of years, ever since we backed the wrong side in the Civil War. The de Courceys backed Charles I. What they should have done is what all the rest of the aristocracy did: back both sides. Anyway, since then things went downhill, money-wise. And every time another earl died, it piled up more and more death duties. That’s why my father decided to get rid of the hall and everything in it.

‘He tried to sell it, but no one wanted it. I’m not surprised, the place is huge and damp. It would cost the budget of a small country just to heat it. So, in the end, he gave it to the National Trust, just before he died. The small amount of money left over from the sale of the contents went into a family trust to tide me over until I reach the age of twenty-five. Then, if there’s anything left, it goes to charity.’

‘Charity? You mean you get nothing?’

Guy shrugged.

‘Fair’s fair,’ he said. ‘The old man guessed that if he left it to me I’d just drink it away. So, I’m doing my best to spend what I can of it in the next three years. I’ve overspent most of it already.’

‘But the library? Did that go to the National Trust as well?’

‘Most of it, though I think the old man kept some of the books. The rarest ones.’ Guy looked at Jake with his air of studied world-weariness, and asked, ‘Do you know anything about this Order of Malichea?’