The Descartes Evolution

by N. J. Croft

  “Well, he is a professor at the best university in the country, so we should have thought he was pretty clever.”

  Luke drummed his fingers on the table and a minute later, Jenna’s cell phone rang, and he grinned.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “It’s Merrick. Meet me at my house at seven p.m. tonight. I may have something for you.”

  Luke slowed the car to a crawl. “We should be nearly there.”

  They were driving along a narrow road a few miles outside the city of Cambridge. The sun was close to setting, tinting the sky with crimson. The road was overhung with trees, but between the occasional breaks, flat fields spread out for miles.

  Merrick had refused to say anything further over the phone except that he’d remembered something about a former project, and he might have information of use to her.

  Jenna turned from studying the road to look at Luke’s profile in the fading light. As usual, his expression gave away nothing. He appeared as fresh as when she had first seen him that morning, while she felt wrecked. She knew it was likely a combination of delayed shock and the painkillers, but she was an hour past the time she normally took her medication, and worry niggled at the back of her mind.

  She had no medication left to take.

  Yesterday’s had been the last, and tonight would be the first night in her memory when she didn’t take the pill. Unless Merrick miraculously had something for her, although she doubted that was going to happen.

  Today she’d missed her appointment at the clinic, but tomorrow, she would spend some time researching her illness. She would find a specialist and get things moving. She lifted her hand in front of her face. One of the first symptoms was a fine tremor in the limbs, but her hand held steady.

  Luke glanced from the road to her. “Is your finger bothering you?”

  “No. I was just—” She dropped her hand onto her lap. “It’s fine. I can’t even feel it, but I’ve always been a fast healer.”

  She pushed the worries to the back of her mind and focused on the coming meeting. Her illness was trivial compared to everything else that was going on. Callum had called in earlier, saying Merrick had arrived home, and his tail was watching the house to make sure he stayed there.

  “Why do you think Merrick wanted to meet me here, rather than back at his office?” she asked.

  “I don’t know for sure, but if he was cautious enough to leave his office and use a public phone, he obviously suspects someone might be watching him.”

  “Wouldn’t they be watching his house, as well?”

  “Probably, but if he keeps his records here, maybe he had no choice.”

  Jenna shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her.

  “That’s the address,” she said, pointing to a set of double iron gates that stood open, leading into a long gravel drive. A dark SUV was parked just down the road. Luke raised a hand as they passed but otherwise ignored the vehicle and turned the car into the drive.

  “Well, he’s obviously not too concerned about security if he leaves his gate open.”

  Through the trees, she caught sight of the house, a large, graceful, Georgian building. Luke pulled up in front of the steps and sat for a moment, his hands resting on the wheel.

  Lights blazed from the downstairs windows. It looked like the professor was home—or at least someone was.

  “Is he married?” she asked.

  “No. He’s homosexual but not in a relationship right now.”

  “How do you know all this stuff?”

  “It’s easy to get information on people these days. Easier than it’s ever been. I had a report run on him yesterday.”

  Something occurred to her. “Did you have a report run on me, as well?”

  “Would it bother you?”

  “Yes.” The thought of someone delving into her secrets made her twitch uncomfortably; she’d always kept to herself.

  “We did a preliminary report as soon as your name came up.” A frown formed between his brows as he studied her in the dim light. “It didn’t tell us much—age, profession. There was a photo, but for someone today it was strangely deficient. For instance, it never mentioned your illness.”

  “David told me I had no medical records at the surgery, so Dad must have kept them to himself.”

  Luke’s frown deepened. He picked up his cell phone and punched in the speed dial. “Callum, run a report on Dr. Jonathon Young. The last known address is the house where we picked up Jenna last night.”

  He listened for a moment.

  “Go back as far as you can. Merrick mentioned twenty-five years this morning.”

  “You’re going to investigate my father?” Jenna asked as he ended the call.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t do it sooner. It’s obvious he was involved with Descartes a long time ago.”

  She scowled. “Investigate him if you want to. I’m sure he had nothing to hide.”

  But as she spoke, doubt nudged at her mind. Her father had always been so secretive about the past, but the puzzling laboratory notes she’d found while going through his papers were a clue there was more to him than he’d ever told her.

  He had no family, or none he had ever owned up to. She knew nothing about her mother other than the name on her birth certificate—Sandra Leavsey. Jenna had presumed he’d been bitter about her abandoning them, but could there be something more sinister?

  “Then there will be nothing to find,” Luke said. “Come on, let’s go see what Merrick has to say.”

  He climbed out of the car and Jenna followed. A dark, expensive-looking sports car was parked at the side of the house, otherwise the gravel drive was empty. The place appeared prosperous and well cared for. Merrick was obviously conscious of his image. She walked beside Luke up the stone staircase at the front of the house. They came to a halt in front of the impressive double doors and Luke pressed the bell.

  Nothing happened.

  Though he pressed the bell again, Jenna knew there would be no response.

  Dread unfurled inside her. A lump formed in her stomach, and she edged closer to Luke.

  He glanced down at her. “Do you want to wait in the car?”

  “No.” She inched even closer to him. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight.

  He nodded and pushed the door. It didn’t open, and he turned the handle. It didn’t budge. “Come on.”

  …

  Luke glanced over at Jenna as he made his way down the stone steps. In the light from the house he could see her face was pale, her features set. He had a bad feeling about this, and it was obvious Jenna was picking up the same vibes.

  That was definitely the professor’s car parked at the side of the house, so he was home. But not answering his door.

  Luke made his way around the side of the house with Jenna close behind him. Halting beside a French window, he peered inside. The room was in darkness. He rattled the handle but wasn’t surprised to find it locked.

  He raised his foot and kicked the center of the door. The glass shattered, and the door sprang open.

  Beside him, Jenna jumped at the noise. “What—”

  He shook his head. Pushing the door fully open, he stepped through and into the room.

  The faint light from the open door allowed him to see the furnishings, two large sofas facing each other. He crossed the room and opened the door opposite that led into a hallway. Stepping through, he paused as his nostrils picked up the faint, unpleasant smell that permeated the air.

  “Fuck.”

  He thought about telling Jenna to wait for him, but he doubted she would listen.

  Her strength impressed him. Many people would have collapsed under the strain of what she had gone through over the last few days. Instead, she’d remained determined to continue, but he suspected this might send her over the edg
e. He was pretty sure he knew what they were going to find and cursed himself for not taking Merrick in—for his own safety and to protect their source of information. The truth was he hadn’t taken the professor seriously, had believed a connection twenty-five years in the past too distant, and Merrick a harmless, aging man.

  Down the hall, a light shone from an open doorway. He stepped toward it and peered into the room. It was a study, a large oak desk and bookcases along each wall, empty of people, no sign of the professor.

  Behind him, Jenna screamed, the sound quickly cut off. Luke whirled around to find her standing with her hand slapped across her mouth, her wide eyes fixed on something above her head.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Professor Merrick hung suspended by a thick rope around his neck from the banister high above. His head tilted at an odd angle; his neck must have snapped as he fell.

  Luke took a step closer. Merrick’s bowels had voided, and this close, the stench hung in the air.

  “Are you okay?” he asked Jenna.

  She forced her gaze from the swinging body and nodded, but her movements were jerky. “Is he dead?”

  “I think so.”

  “Sorry. Stupid question. I just—”

  He reached across and pulled her into his arms, holding her trembling body close and stroking his hand down her hair. They stood for a minute, and he could sense her gathering her strength, pulling the pieces of herself together. Finally, she raised her head from his chest.

  “I’m okay.”

  He steered her back toward the sitting room, his hand groping for the switch, and the room flooded with light. He pushed her down on the sofa.

  “Stay there,” he murmured.

  After searching the room, he found the liquor cabinet and poured her a large brandy. She stared at the glass for a moment before taking it from him.

  “I don’t drink.”

  “Tonight might be a good time to start. I can’t deal with a hysterical female right now.”

  The deliberate harshness of his tone got through to her. Though she cast him a hurt glance, she sipped the brandy and pulled a face. She took a deep breath and swallowed the rest in one gulp before placing the glass carefully on the small table beside her and visibly squaring her shoulders.

  “I’m fine, really. It was just the shock. I looked up, and he was hanging there. Did he kill himself?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe it was my fault. That something we said this morning triggered him to…”

  “It’s been set up to look like a suicide, but I think it’s likely he was pushed rather than jumped.” He studied her face; a little color was creeping back. “Are you okay here for a few minutes? I want to go have a look. See if I can find something that might tell us what happened.”

  She glanced at the broken French window but nodded.

  Maybe he should take her away from here. He could leave the men to keep an eye on the place until Callum turned up. But Callum would say he was going soft. And he’d be right.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt protective about anybody. Actually that was a lie—it had been Leah, and look how well that had turned out. Besides, Jenna was somehow involved with Descartes, and the last thing he needed was feelings for her clouding any decisions he might have to make. He’d spent ten years building up to this. He wouldn’t be distracted by inconvenient emotion now he was close.

  He stood gazing down at her a moment longer, then turned away. He headed back to the study first. The note was on the center of the desk.

  I can’t live with myself any longer.

  Short and to the point.

  The writing was shaky, but that could have been a man about to commit suicide or a man with a gun held to his head. As far as Luke was concerned, the latter scenario was far more likely.

  He pulled out his cell phone and called Callum. “Merrick’s dead. Get a team over to my location. I want a full search of this place with no sign we’ve been here.”

  When he ended the call, he headed back into the hall and studied Merrick’s body. It appeared a clear case of suicide. There was no sign of a fight, no sign he had resisted at all. Maybe they’d drugged him before they’d tied the noose around his neck and tossed him over the balcony. Luke would get the team to check for that.

  The staircase was broad and curved around the hallway. Wide landings wrapped around the first and second floor with doors leading off. The rope holding Merrick had been tied to one of the upright banisters on the second floor landing.

  Luke ran up the stairs. Crouching down, he studied the knots, but there was nothing to give away whether Merrick had tied them himself.

  He rubbed his forehead, pressing his fingers hard against his skull.

  There was a terrorist attack going down any day now, and he was no nearer finding anything that would help him stop it. All he knew was the who. Not where, or what, or even why. And that bothered him the most. What did they hope to gain? A terrorist attack made no sense—overt aggressive actions didn’t tie in with the Conclave’s normal pattern of behavior.

  What had changed, and how could Jenna be involved?

  Could it really be due to her father and a twenty-five-year-old secret between two men? Both now dead.

  He returned to the study and started a systematic search. There were no locked drawers or cabinets, and he found nothing of any interest.

  It was over an hour before Callum turned up. “Another lead dead?” he asked, staring up at the professor’s body. “It’s getting contagious.”

  “Yeah. I want you to keep looking here. Tear the place apart if you have to.”

  “And where will you be?”

  “I’m taking Jenna back to London.”

  “One of the others could do that,” Callum said.

  “I don’t think she needs to be with a stranger right now.”

  “Really? And does she need to be with you?”

  Luke sighed. Callum had never known when to stop pushing. “Say what you’re thinking.”

  “Just that I’ve never seen you like this. It’s not like you to be taken in by a pretty face.”

  Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not taken in, and I know what I’m doing. We need her on our side and this is the best way.”

  “You think?” Callum raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I have a feeling you’re about to rejoin the human race, and I’ve got to tell you—your timing stinks.”

  Luke didn’t bother with an answer, and he and Jenna left shortly afterward. His cell phone rang when they were half an hour out. Callum.

  “There’s been an explosion.”

  “At Merrick’s? What happened?”

  “We’d just started searching the place when some sort of incendiary device was detonated.”

  Luke swore under his breath. He should have checked the house before he left, but he’d been so concerned about getting Jenna out of there and to safety that his mind had been clouded. Shit. He’d thought Merrick wasn’t going anywhere.

  Nowhere, but up in smoke.

  Callum was right. He couldn’t allow himself to lose focus.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The drive back to London seemed to go on forever. Luke had said something about an explosion but Jenna was beyond taking any more in.

  “Jenna.”

  The car had stopped. She forced her eyes open and turned to him. “What?”

  “I’ll see you upstairs then I’m going to work. See if I can find a link to Merrick.” He guided her across the garage.

  Jenna leaned against the wall of the elevator and wondered whether the alcohol was affecting her. It felt like a buzz in her brain.

  Luke frowned. “Are you okay?”

  Was he crazy? She was as far from okay as it was possible to be. “I just want to go to bed.
”

  For once, there was an expression on his face she understood—worry. It almost made her smile.

  He led her through the apartment and stopped in front of her door. “Get some sleep.”

  Yeah, right. That wasn’t going to happen. “Can I have another drink?”

  “I’ll get you something. Do you need more painkillers?”

  Shaking her head, she pushed open the door to her room. She could feel Luke’s gaze following her as she walked through, but she ignored him. Once inside, she stood in the center of the floor, unsure what to do. A minute later, Luke stepped in behind her. He placed a half-full glass of amber liquid on the table by the bed and walked away.

  At the door, he paused. For the first time, he appeared unsure. “I have to go.”

  Irritation flicked at her nerves. Why didn’t he leave? “I’ll be fine. Just go.”

  His eyes widened a little at her abrupt tone, but he turned and left the room. Sinking onto the bed, she picked up the glass. There was a fine tremor in her fingers, but she didn’t know whether it was the onset of her illness or merely reaction. Right now, she didn’t care. She swallowed the drink down in one gulp, almost choking as the burning liquid flowed down her throat. Leaning back against the headboard, she closed her eyes, but images of David, of Merrick, of her father on a slab in the morgue, played across her mind.

  Her nostrils clogged with the stench of death, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her stomach recoiled, and she lurched to her feet, ran to the bathroom, and threw up in the toilet.

  Collapsing to her knees, she laid her cheek against the cool porcelain, waiting for her head to stop spinning. Her mouth tasted foul, and she pulled herself up and drank straight from the tap, then brushed her teeth until her gums bled.

  She tore off her clothes and stood under the steaming shower, trying to wash the stink from her body. She felt as though she were the only real thing in an unreal world.

  …

  Luke stopped off in the control room on the ground floor.

  At this time of night, the room was quiet, just a couple of guys monitoring the chatter, and a third in charge of internal security, reviewing the CCTV cameras around the building.