‘Thank you,’ said Jake, and he followed the direction of MacClain’s pointing finger. As he mounted the stairs, his mind was in a whirl. What was she doing waiting for him in his room? Why not in reception? It could only mean she had something private to tell him, something about Lauren she didn’t want anyone else to overhear.
He moved faster up the carpeted stairs. Whatever news she had for him about Lauren, he needed to know. And he needed to know now.
He reached room five, put the key in the lock, opened the door, and stepped in. And stopped dead.
Lauren was there. Standing in front of him, turning towards him, her face lighting up with joy, her arms reaching out to him.
Chapter 4
Later, as Jake was making coffee, reality kicked in. ‘How did you get here?’ he asked, astonished.
‘I flew.’ Lauren grinned.
‘Yes, but . . . you know what I mean. How did you get past passport control in New Zealand? How did you get through immigration control?’
She smiled and tugged at her hair, which was now short and blonde.
‘Notice anything different?’ she asked.
‘You can’t get in and out just by cutting and dying your hair!’ exploded Jake. ‘Not when you’re on the Most Wanted list!’
‘I did it with this,’ said Lauren, and she reached into the drawer of the bedside table, took out a passport, and tossed it to Jake. Jake opened it, and saw a photo of a girl who might have resembled Lauren, but only just. Yes, this girl had short blonde hair. And there was something similar about the shape of her face. But to fool immigration, and MI5 . . .
‘Helen Cooper,’ explained Lauren. ‘She lives in the same apartment block as me, and we became friends. I told her all about Malichea, the hidden science texts, and what had happened to us, and how you and I would never see each other again, and how desperate I was . . .’
‘We were,’ corrected Jake. As he carried the coffees towards the small table, he almost stumbled on the old and uneven wooden floor.
‘Careful you don’t spill them,’ said Lauren.
Jake grinned.
‘Nagging me already?’ he asked.
‘You need it,’ she said. ‘You get in trouble without me to look after you.’
‘I get in trouble when we’re together.’ Jake smiled. ‘So, how did you get to be Helen Cooper?’
‘It was Helen who suggested it,’ said Lauren. ‘She commented one day about how similar we looked.’
Jake looked at the passport photo and shook his head.
‘She’s nowhere near as beautiful as you,’ he said.
‘You’re only saying that because you’re biased,’ said Lauren. ‘And anyway, passport photographs never show people at their best. She said if I was so desperate to get back to England and see you, why didn’t I try using her passport. They’d be looking to stop Samantha Adams, or Lauren Graham, not Helen Cooper.’
‘A woman with three identities,’ commented Jake. ‘Don’t you sometimes forget who you really are?’
Lauren nodded.
‘Sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘Sometimes, at work, when people call me Sam, just for the briefest of seconds I look around and wonder who they’re talking to.’ She gave Jake a stern look. ‘That’s why it’s important we don’t have any slip-ups while we’re here. I’m Helen Cooper. Call me Helen all the time, even if we think we’re alone. You never know who may be listening.’
‘Even now?’ asked Jake.
Lauren thought it over.
‘It might be a good idea,’ she said. ‘To get used to it.’
Jake looked doubtful.
‘I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it,’ he said. ‘To me, you’ll always be Lauren.’
‘And I’ll be Lauren again, once we get past this,’ she assured him. ‘Anyway, back to the passport. The more I thought about it, the stronger the appeal to try it became. I couldn’t tell you, or even drop a hint, because, well . . .’
‘They’re listening.’ Jake nodded.
‘Yes,’ said Lauren. ‘So I decided to give it a try. Helen and I agreed that, if I was stopped and caught anywhere along the way, I’d say I’d stolen her passport from her, so she wouldn’t get in trouble.’
‘I phoned your work because I was worried I hadn’t heard from you,’ said Jake.
‘I didn’t dare tell anyone, apart from Helen,’ said Lauren. ‘For all we know they’ve got someone at my work, reporting back. Anyway, I booked the flights in Helen’s name, and on the day I did my hair, set off, and just kept my fingers crossed.’