The Lethal Target (11 page)

It took two hours for the detective to arrive. Or, at least, for Jake to be taken to the interview room where Detective Sergeant Stewart was sitting at a table waiting for him. Stewart was a calm-looking man in a rumpled brown jacket. He gestured for Jake to sit down, and the constable left the room to return to his duties guarding the reception desk.

‘So, Mr Wells. Do you want to tell me what you are doing on Mull?’ asked the detective.

‘The same as I told your colleague before: I came to meet an old friend.’

Sergeant Stewart consulted the notes in front of him.

‘Ah yes, this so-called Helen Cooper.’

‘She is not the “so-called” Helen Cooper. She is Helen Cooper.’

‘Not according to Mr Manvers of Immigration. He seems to think she’s actually someone called Lauren Graham.’

‘She’s not.’

‘Interestingly, when we tried to track down details about this Lauren Graham, we were referred to the intelligence services in London. Why would that be, do you think?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ Jake shrugged. ‘Particularly as I’ve no idea who this Lauren Graham person you’re talking about is.’

‘That’s interesting,’ said Stewart, ‘because their records show that once upon a time you shared an address in London with a Lauren Graham. Which Lauren Graham would that be?’

That would be the Lauren Graham I fell in love with, and who I moved in with for a whole month, before I messed things up and she kicked me out, thought Jake. Aloud, he said: ‘That would be a girl I had a relationship with once, about a year ago. She is nothing to do with Helen Cooper.’

Stewart regarded him quizzically.

‘Very well,’ he said at last, ‘we’ll come back to that.’

‘Have you found her yet?’

‘Who?’

‘Helen,’ said Jake. ‘She went missing just before you brought me up here.’

‘Or did she disappear of her own volition?’ asked Stewart.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Jake.

Suddenly Stewart’s expression became hard, and Jake could see cold anger in his eyes as he looked directly into Jake’s.

‘I mean that for years — no, decades — we’ve had no major crime on Mull. And then you and this “Helen Cooper” arrive, and within a day Dougie MacClain is found dead. His body is found by you and this mysterious Helen Cooper, who later vanishes. Then another guest at the guest house where you are both staying is murdered. His throat’s cut, and in his hand we find a piece of your clothing.’

‘None of it is anything to do with me,’ insisted Jake.

Stewart gave a sarcastic laugh.

‘Oh, please!’ he snorted.

‘Shouldn’t I have a lawyer?’ asked Jake.

‘We’ve arranged one for you,’ said Stewart. ‘He’s coming from Oban. It’ll take him a while to get here. Until then, we’re just having an informal chat.’

‘In that case I’ll wait to say anything more until he gets here,’ said Jake.

Stewart shrugged.

‘As you wish,’ he said.

He got up and went to the door, opened it and gestured to the uniformed constable standing outside.

‘Put him back in the cell,’ he said.

‘On what charge?’ demanded Jake.

‘Suspicion of murder,’ said Stewart.

As the cell door clanged shut on him for a second time, Jake’s spirits sank even lower. He had to get out of here. He was no use to Lauren, sitting here in this cell. He wondered how she was. Was she safe, hiding in the boat hut? Or had Manvers and Webb found her? He wondered if the book was still on the island, or if the Russians had removed it already.

And he’d been framed for murder, and Lauren was on the run from immigration. What a mess! He groaned. Who had killed Gordon? He guessed it was the same people who had killed Dougie MacClain, and for the same reasons: to stop the opposition. It has to be the Russians, he thought. But there had been no sign of any of the Russians anywhere near the guest house when Gordon had been killed.

He sat in the cell for another half-hour, although it seemed much longer. Then the cell door opened and the constable looked in.

‘OK, you,’ he said. ‘Out you come.’

‘Has my lawyer arrived?’ asked Jake.

‘Something like that,’ said the constable.

Jake stepped out of the cell and followed the constable, puzzled. ‘Something like that.’ What did that mean? Either his lawyer had arrived or he hadn’t.

They walked into the main reception area of the police station, and Jake stopped. Pam Gordon was at the desk with Detective Sergeant Stewart, signing some papers. She signed the last of them and handed them all to Stewart.

‘There you are,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ said Stewart. ‘He’s all yours.’

Pam Gordon gestured towards the door.

‘My car’s outside,’ she told Jake.

Stunned by this sudden turn in events, Jake followed her out of the police station. What was going on? Why had Pam Gordon turned up? A sudden bolt of fear shot through Jake. She’d sprung him from jail to kill him in revenge for killing John Gordon! But that didn’t make sense. What power did she have that could force Stewart to hand Jake over as easily as that? Of course, he and Lauren had suspected she was MI5. This proved it.

They got into the car, and then Jake blurted out: ‘I didn’t kill him.’

‘If I thought you had, I’d have killed you before you even got in the car,’ she said bluntly.

She started the ignition, and they moved off.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Jake.

‘Back to Craigmount,’ she said.

They headed along the road away from the coast and into the heart of the south part of the island.

‘How did you manage it?’ asked Jake. ‘Getting me out of there, I mean.’

‘I had authority,’ said Gordon. ‘Orders to follow.’

‘Whose?’ asked Jake.

‘Let’s just say an old boss of yours.’

‘Not Gareth Findlay-Weston?’

Gareth Findlay-Weston, Jake’s former boss when he worked as a trainee press officer at the Department of Science; and — beneath that cover of a bureaucratic desk job — a top figure in MI5.

Gordon glared at him.

‘You do throw names around, don’t you?’ she snapped. ‘God, you’d make a terrible agent!’

‘We’d already guessed you were both MI5,’ said Jake defensively. His voice softened as he said: ‘I’m sorry about John.’

She shook her head.

‘Whoever killed him must be good. A real professional. John would never have allowed an amateur to get that close to him. That’s why I don’t think it was you. Like I said, if I thought it was, you’d be dead by now.’ She frowned. ‘Although you may just be playing a clever game and putting on the pretence of being enthusiastic amateurs. You and that girlfriend of yours. Lauren Graham.’

Jake threw a surprised look at her.

‘You don’t think we bought that story of her being someone called Helen Cooper, do you?’ said Gordon scornfully. ‘John clocked her as soon as he saw her. He’s got a photographic memory for faces.’ She corrected herself bitterly. ‘Had.’ She scowled, then said: ‘We’d been told to watch out for you once we knew that the Russians were after the Malichea book. Your old boss was sure that you’d come looking for it. We got a bit of a surprise when Ms Graham turned up first.’ She nodded admiringly. ‘She’s good, I’ll give her that. Getting back to the UK like that, without getting stopped. Very impressive.’

‘I suppose it was you who shopped her to Immigration,’ said Jake.

‘Not us,’ said Gordon. ‘We were told to leave you both in place. I think You Know Who thought you’d both be a good decoy. Take the Russian’s attention away from us.’

‘Do you have to call him You Know Who, and He Who Must Not Be Named?’ asked Jake. ‘It makes him sound like Lord Voldermort.’

For the first time, Jake saw a smile pass over Pam Gordon’s face.

‘You know, I think he’d like that,’ she said. ‘Very appropriate.’ Then her face turned grim again. ‘By the way, your girlfriend’s disappeared.’

‘Yes, we know,’ said Jake. ‘She disappeared before I was taken away.’

‘No, I mean
really
disappeared,’ said Gordon. ‘She’s gone from that boathouse place where she was hiding, and it looks like there was some kind of struggle.’

Jake let this sink in, horrified.

‘Where is she?’ he demanded.

‘If we knew that, we’d be doing something about it,’ said Gordon.

‘It’s got to be the Russians,’ said Jake.

‘Why?’ asked Gordon. ‘They’ve got the book. Why would they want to draw attention to themselves by kidnapping your girlfriend?’

‘The same reason they killed Dougie MacClain,’ said Jake. ‘Because they know she wants to stop them keeping the book.’

‘So what?’ Gordon shrugged. ‘They’d also know she doesn’t pose much of a threat to them. Certainly not one worth bothering about.’ Her face darkened again as she added, ‘Unlike a top agent like John.’

‘You think they killed John?’ asked Jake.

Gordon scowled.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘We’re not even sure they killed Dougie MacClain.’

‘If they didn’t, who did?’

‘We’re not sure. Anyway, none of the Russians were anywhere around the guest house when John was killed.’

‘What about Ian Muir?’ asked Jake.

‘What about him?’

‘Is he CIA?’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Well, he’s American.’

Gordon let out a groan.

‘God, you are so simplistic!’

‘As the Russians were there, it made sense for the CIA to have a presence!’ said Jake defensively.

‘The CIA are in one of the holiday cottages along the lane,’ Gordon said. ‘Inside, it’s bristling with high-tech satellite technology. There’s no way they could fit all the equipment they need into a room in the guest house without anyone knowing.’

‘So who’s Muir working for?’

‘We don’t know,’ admitted Gordon.

‘Pierce Randall?’ suggested Jake.

Gordon shot him a quick look.

‘You’ve really got a bug about those guys, haven’t you?’ she said.

‘Can you blame me?’ asked Jake. ‘They’ve been involved in anything to do with the Malichea books right from the word go.’

Gordon thought it over, and nodded.

‘It’s possible,’ she said. ‘But there’s been no contact between Muir and Pierce Randall since he’s been on the island.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because the CIA aren’t the only ones with state-of-the-art surveillance equipment,’ said Gordon.

They fell silent.

‘So who’s got Lauren?’ asked Jake finally.

‘We don’t know,’ admitted Gordon. She hesitated, then said: ‘Maybe she’s not on the island any longer.’

‘What do you mean?’

Gordon hesitated again, then said: ‘Look, these are dangerous people we’re dealing with. Whether it’s the Russians or someone else. Muir, maybe. Think what happened to Dougie MacClain and John. If your friend got too close to them . . .’

‘No!’ snapped Jake. ‘I’d know if something had happened to her.’

‘How?’ asked Gordon. ‘Telepathy between lovers?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t buy it. It could be she was dealt with and dumped in the sea, far enough out for it to sink. The first we’ll know about it is when the spring tides bring her body in.’

Jake shut his eyes to block out the image and shook his head violently.

‘No!’ he said again.

‘You’ve got to admit, it’s a possibility,’ said Gordon. She sighed. ‘Look, I shouldn’t even be saying this. I was told to keep you on the hook, and that means you thinking that she’s still out there somewhere, being kept prisoner, and you can ride to her rescue with our help.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘For the book. Our people want you to get it for us.’

Jake let that sink in. Finally, he asked, ‘Why me? Like you said, you’re the professionals. I’m just an amateur.’

‘Because He Who Shall Not Be Named seems to think you can get places we can’t. He says you’ve done it before.’ She gave a mirthless grin. ‘If you want my opinion, he wants you to try because if you get caught then it doesn’t come back on us.’

‘And if they kill me?’

She fell silent, then she shrugged.

‘What can I say? One more dead body, but nothing to do with MI5.’

Jake thought it over as Gordon continued driving. If he agreed, and was successful, then MI5 would get the book and hide it away, along with the others. Any chance he and Lauren might have of getting the information about the Order of Malichea into the public domain would be gone. And he’d be going in alone, Gareth wouldn’t want to take the chance of the Russians being able to put the body of a dead MI5 agent, caught while trying to steal ‘Russian property’, on display.

But there was still a chance that the Russians were holding Lauren prisoner, despite Gordon’s doubts about that. He had to believe that Lauren was still alive, otherwise all of this would be for nothing.