by Jim Eldridge
‘Yes,’ said Jake. He was tempted to nod, but knew if he did, it’d hurt his head.
‘And if anything gets worse, or if you’re worried, just get Mrs MacClain to call me. I’m available twenty-four hours a day.’
He headed for the door.
‘I’ll tell Sergeant Stewart he can come and see you, but I’ll ask him to go gently with you. And not to keep asking questions for too long.’
Jake smiled his thanks, and let himself sink back against the pillows. His head still ached, but not as badly as it had done the day before. I’m not doing badly for a guy who got shot in the head, he told himself.
There was a brisk knock at his door, then it opened and Sergeant Stewart walked in, followed by the same constable who’d arrested Jake and taken him off in handcuffs.
‘The doctor says you’re fit enough to answer questions,’ said Stewart.
‘Just a few,’ Jake said.
Stewart regarded Jake suspiciously.
‘I don’t think I’m going to get many useful answers anyway, do you?’ he demanded.
‘That depends,’ said Jake. ‘If I can help, I will.’
‘Right,’ said Stewart. He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down on it, leaving the constable standing.
‘So, what’s the connection between you and Mrs Pamela Gordon?’ he asked.
‘We’re both staying at this guest house,’ said Jake. ‘Apart from that, there’s no connection.’
‘And yet she came and took you out of police custody after you were being questioned about the murder of her husband.’
‘Yes,’ said Jake.
Stewart studied Jake for a moment, then said, ‘She gave me a phone number to call. It turned out to be British intelligence. They ordered me to release you into her custody. Why would that be?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Jake.
‘It can only be because you’re either also working for British intelligence, or because they have first claim on you as a suspect.’
‘Or because I was innocent.’
‘If that was the case, it would have been left to a lawyer to deal with it. British intelligence putting their oar in and ordering your release suggests something else.’
‘What can I say?’ said Jake. ‘I don’t know why they did that. Perhaps you’d better ask Mrs Gordon?’
‘My colleagues in Oban are doing that as we speak,’ said Stewart. ‘But she seems as reluctant to tell us what’s going on as you.’ Changing tack, he asked, ‘Why were you both shot?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Jake. ‘If it crossed my mind that we were going to be targets, we’d have been more careful.’
‘So you can’t think of anyone who’d want to harm you or Mrs Gordon?’
‘No,’ said Jake. ‘Anyway, shouldn’t you be out looking for Helen, instead of talking to me? You know where I am if you need me. Helen is out there somewhere. She could be stuck down a crevice, or in a cave, or anywhere. She could be unconscious.’
‘We know, and we’ve got that in hand,’ said Stewart.
‘In hand, how?’ demanded Jake.
‘We’re liaising with search and rescue and the coastguard,’ Stewart said. ‘We’re going to implement a search.’
Good, thought Jake. He didn’t think that Lauren was lost on the island anywhere, but if she was being held prisoner in some outbuilding, they might find her. Unless, as Jake suspected, the Russians were holding her, in which case they’d resist any attempts to search their premises, claiming diplomatic immunity. But at least a search of the island would eliminate her being trapped in some cove.
Jake looked at Stewart, who was still regarding him with that suspicious glare. I need to get him out of here so I can get on with my own search for Lauren, thought Jake. He let out a small groan.
‘Actually, my head’s starting to pound a bit. Would you mind if we left it there for the moment? I can always answer any questions later. After all, I’m not going anywhere.’
Stewart continued to fix Jake with his baleful glare. After what seemed an age of an almost threatening silence, the detective sergeant grunted and said, ‘We have very little crime here because people behave, and we do a good job, which suits me. But when something big like this happens and I’m told to stay away from it by British intelligence, I feel insulted. I don’t take kindly to not being allowed to do my job properly.
‘So I’m going to be keeping an eye on you, Mr Wells. And I’m asking Constable Frierson here to do the same. Purely for your own safety, you understand. We wouldn’t want to disobey orders and put our noses where they’re not wanted.’ He stood up, jerked his thumb at the constable and the two of them left the room.
Chapter 20
After Stewart had gone, Jake lay in the bed and thought about his next move. He could get up, the doctor had said so. Nothing too strenuous. But he’d also said that fresh air would do Jake good. Well, there was fresh air around the Russians’ cottage. He’d start there.
He was about to get out of bed when there was a knock on his door. Jake wondered if it was the police returning.
‘Yes?’ he said, doing his best to sound weak and fragile.
The door opened and the concerned face of Ian Muir looked in.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind my looking in, but I thought, think of this as a hospital visit. You know, neighbours seeing how the other one is, that kind of thing.’
‘Sure,’ said Jake. ‘Come in and sit down.’
Muir nodded, came into the room, pushed the door shut, then hauled a chair over to Jake’s bedside.
‘How’s the head?’ he asked.
‘Not bad. Considering someone shot at me,’ he said.
‘Yeah,’ said Muir, still looking concerned. ‘Pam Gordon didn’t get off so lucky.’
‘No,’ said Jake. ‘But at least she’s alive.’
‘True.’ Muir nodded. ‘So, do the cops have any idea who shot you both?’
‘No idea at all,’ said Jake.
‘How about — why?’ asked Muir. ‘I mean, have they got any clue as to motive, or are we talking about some mad serial killer roaming the island?’
‘Worried?’ asked Jake.
‘You bet your life I am!’ said Muir. ‘I mean, is it even safe to go walking around here?’ He frowned again as he asked, ‘Any word on your girlfriend? I understand she’s disappeared. The word is that she’s been snatched.’
‘No,’ sighed Jake. ‘There’s been no sign of her.’
‘I hear there’s talk of bringing people over from the mainland to mount a search for her,’ said Muir. ‘If that happens, count me in. I’ve started to get to know this area pretty good since I’ve been here.’
‘Thanks,’ said Jake. ‘I guess the police will be handling that.’
‘Any word from the doc?’ asked Muir. ‘You know, about when you can get up?’
‘Today, he says,’ Jake told him. ‘The bullet just chipped the bone. Nothing serious.’
Muir grunted.
‘A bullet in the head sounds serious to me,’ he commented.
‘Not in the head,’ Jake corrected him. ‘It bounced off.’ He grinned. ‘Luckily I must have a pretty thick skull.’
Muir sighed and shook his head sadly.
‘When I booked to come here I never thought of this as a dangerous place,’ he said. ‘Dougie MacClain dead, John Gordon stabbed, you and Pam Gordon shot, your girlfriend Helen being snatched. My God, we don’t even get that on our bad days in Chicago!’ He gave Jake a serious and concerned look. ‘Listen, if there’s anything I can do, if you need anything . . .’
‘No, I’m fine thanks,’ said Jake. ‘The MacClains are taking really good care of me. And, like I say, I can be back on my feet today. In fact, I thought I’d get up once you’ve gone and take a walk.’
Muir frowned again.
‘If you want my opinion, you ought to think twice about going anywhere on this island right at this moment. Someone shot you once. Who knows, they might get l
uckier next time.’
‘It’s a chance, but I can’t stay here for ever,’ said Jake.
‘OK, I’ll let you get yourself ready,’ said Muir. He stood up. ‘The police have no idea who shot you, or why?’ he enquired again.
‘No idea at all,’ said Jake.
‘Well, let’s hope it wasn’t personal,’ said Muir.
He headed for the door. At the door, he turned to Jake. ‘Remember what I said about looking for Helen. As soon as they organise a search, count me in. In the meantime, I’ll keep my eyes open when I’m walking around.’
‘So you’re still happy to go out?’ asked Jake.
‘Hell, yes!’ said Muir firmly. ‘I came here to enjoy this place, and no murdering lunatic on the loose is gonna stop me! Anyway, who’d want to kill me?’
With that, he left.
Who’d want to kill Muir indeed, Jake wondered.
The visit by the American puzzled him. Maybe it simply was, as Muir had said, one resident making a sympathetic visit to another who’d been injured. A kind of hospital visit. But Muir had been mostly interested in finding out what the police thought were the motives for the shooting.
Jake got out of bed and dressed. His head still ached, so he took a couple of painkillers, then went downstairs. Alec MacClain was in reception.
‘Mr Wells!’ he exclaimed when he saw Jake. ‘You didn’t need to get up! We’d have brought you up anything you wanted. All you had to do was phone down from your room.’
‘I’m fine,’ Jake assured him. ‘Well, fine-ish,’ he admitted. ‘Anyway, Dr Patel said he thought it would be better for me to get up.’ He looked around to make sure there was no one else within earshot, then asked, ‘Anything happened?’
Alec MacClain sighed. ‘There’s been no sign of your friend, I’m afraid. The police tell me they’re going to mount a major search tomorrow. They’re bringing in coastguard teams, search and rescue and volunteers, and they’ll be covering every square inch.’
They won’t find her, realised Jake. Whoever took Lauren is keeping her under lock and key. If she’s still alive, that is. Angrily, he tried to dismiss the possibility that she wasn’t from his mind. She’s alive! he told himself. She must be!
Alec MacClain leant towards Jake and muttered, ‘The two Russians are back. The ones who went to the mainland. They came back on the ferry this morning.’
‘Does anyone know where they’ve been?’
Alec shook his head.
‘No, but the best guess is Glasgow or Edinburgh.’
‘So, whatever they went to get, they’ve brought back,’ said Jake thoughtfully.
‘That’s what it looks like,’ agreed Alec.
The materials to create spontaneous human combustion. To make a human body burst into flames. And they’d only be doing that if they wanted to test them out. And, the fact that they’d come back to Mull meant they were planning to test them here, on the island. On someone. A human specimen.
Lauren.
I have to stop them, thought Jake. He had to get into the Russians’ cottage. He was sure that was where Lauren was being kept prisoner.
The two Russians were back with the necessary ingredients. The experiment would be taking place any time now.
I have to go in, thought Jake. I have to go in now.
Chapter 21
Jake returned to his room and put on his jacket, then slipped a small torch into his pocket. He would need it to make his way through the tunnel, away from any daylight. He looked out of the window. Not that there was much daylight left; the evening darkness was starting to descend. He hoped the darkness would give him the cover he needed.
He went carefully and quietly down the stairs. If he could, he hoped to get to the cave and the secret tunnel without anyone seeing him. He felt confident in the MacClain family, but bitter experience in the past had shown him that, as far as the Malichea books were concerned, no one was to be trusted.
He made it out of the guest house unseen, but as he set off down the cliffside path to the shore, he ran into Rona coming up.
‘Mr Wells!’ she said, alarmed. ‘Should you be out?’
‘Yes,’ Jake assured her. ‘But I’d rather you didn’t say anything to anyone apart from your parents.’
She looked troubled.
‘There’s still no sign of your friend,’ she said.
‘No,’ said Jake. ‘So I understand.’ He looked past her, down towards the shore. ‘Where’s Robbie?’
She let out a heartfelt sigh.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’ve just been along to the boat shed, looking for him.’ She looked appealingly at Jake. ‘I’m worried that he’s going to do something stupid. If you see him, will you stop him?’
‘I’ll do what I can,’ said Jake. ‘But I don’t think what I say carries much weight with your brother. Anyway, I’d better be moving along.’
‘You’re going into the tunnel, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘Into the Russians’ cottage.’
Jake hesitated, then he nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Let me come with you!’ Rona begged.
‘No,’ said Jake firmly. ‘We’ve seen what these people can do. If you went in and anything happened to you, it would kill your parents.’ And they’d kill me, thought Jake to himself.
It was the best argument he could have put to her. He saw her face fall as she thought about her parents. She nodded.
‘What shall I do if you’re not back?’ she asked.
Jake did his best to put on a confident smile.
‘Add me to the list of people the search and rescue team are looking for.’ He grinned.
It was a confidence he didn’t feel at all. He was going into the enemy’s den, alone and unarmed, with no plan as to what he was going to do once he was inside.
He gave Rona a wink, and then set off down the steep path to the shore.
He walked along the shingled beach, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground in the gathering darkness as he moved. Finally, he came to the narrow cave that led to the secret tunnel. He checked that no one seemed to be watching, and then he slipped into the cave.
The barnacle-encrusted wooden boards that hid the entrance seemed to be in the same place where he, Lauren and Rona had left them on their last visit. He hoped that meant that Robbie hadn’t come this way. But then Robbie had told Jake very firmly that he had no intention of using the tunnel. But that didn’t mean Robbie wouldn’t.
Jake switched on the torch and heaved the heavy boards aside. The effort it took made his head start to ache again. What was it the doctor had told him? Nothing strenuous. Yes, well, all that was out of the window. There was only one thing that mattered now, and that was getting Lauren back safely.
He found the steep steps carved into the rocks and began to climb them. At times they were so narrow he had to use his hands and knees, but finally he could hear voices above him, and knew he was getting to the top.
He switched off the torch and allowed his eyes to get used to the darkness. Then he climbed slowly up the last few steps. All the time the voices, though muffled, were getting louder. Finally he came to a wooden partition. This must be the back of the cupboard, he thought. There was a small hole in the wood, and Jake peered carefully through and saw an empty cupboard in front of him. Empty, that is, except for some dust-covered bottles on a shelf.
Good, he thought. No one should want to open this cupboard to get anything.
Jake looked for a latch or some kind of catch in the wooden partition; and found it at one side. As quietly as he could, he pulled on the catch, and the wooden partition opened like a door.
Jake crept in. He worked his way towards the actual door of the cupboard, which was just an arm’s length away. There was another hole in this piece of wood. He put his eye to the hole, and had to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself yelling out.
Lauren was there, tied to a chair. At the far back of the room, near to the door, were two toug
h-looking Russians, both with pistols in holsters strapped to their belts.
Jake twisted to try to get a better view of the room, and saw the tall figure of Professor Lemski come into focus. The professor was standing next to Lauren, drumming his fingers on a small wooden table next to her. On the small table Jake saw the familiar black-leather casing, embossed with the symbol of the Order of Malichea, which he recognised as the protective cover for the book. The book itself lay open on the table. Next to it were some racks of test tubes filled with different sorts of liquid, and in front of them was a hypodermic needle, with a yellowish liquid inside.
‘As I was saying, you’re presence here is very opportune, Ms Graham,’ said Lemski.
Jake saw Lauren glare at Lemski.
‘And as I’ve already told you, my name is Helen Cooper,’ she said. ‘I am from New Zealand . . .’
‘Please, spare us the cover story,’ said Lemski with a sigh. ‘We knew who you were soon after you arrived. Your fame precedes you.’
Lauren looked puzzled.
‘What do you mean ‘‘fame’’?’ she asked.
‘We are both interested in the same areas of science,’ said Lemski. ‘It is natural that someone like myself should check on what others in the same field are doing. I discovered your account of the history of the Order of Malichea, and the hidden library, some time ago, and followed your researches devoutly until they were terminated by British intelligence.’
Lauren still looked puzzled.
‘I didn’t publish anything,’ she said. ‘Not in print or on the net.’
‘You didn’t need to,’ said Lemski. ‘Once you had checked out a website about Malichea that we had set up, we had access to your computer. Our technical people are very advanced in their use of surveillance techniques. Better than your own MI5.’
‘So you hacked into my computer and you’ve been spying on me?’
Lemski nodded.
‘And not just during your time in England. Once we learnt that you had been exiled to New Zealand . . .’
‘How did you discover that?’ asked Lauren.
Lemski smiled.
‘Please. Every security service has agents inside those of other countries. You British have yours in ours; we have our people inside yours. It is the same whether it’s the Americans, the Chinese, the French . . . whoever.’ He smiled. ‘There are very few secrets in the world of secrets.’
