Cherringham--The Last Puzzle Read Online Free

knew?”
    “Hmm, well — with all due respect to you Tony after this wonderful wine — no, not at all! Quentin was analytical, thoughtful, combative even — but never … playful.”
    “So from that I would say that this is not a game then,” said Jack. “And if it is not a game — that means it is for real.”
    “For real?” said Sarah. “I don’t quite understand, Jack …”
    “This crossword puzzle is important. It has a meaning. Either in the way it plays out, how the players behave … Or in the result itself.”
    “Surely the result is just the eventual winner of the spoils, Jack?” said Tony.
    “On the surface, yes,” said Jack. “But that could have been done with the stroke of a pen — it doesn’t need a high-stakes competition.”
    Sarah looked around the table. Her father and Tony were both pondering this. She turned to Jack.
    Time to play devil’s advocate.
    “What if Quentin is just what he seems, Jack? An English eccentric, playing that quirky role to the very end?”
    “You know how very odd we English can be, Jack,” said Michael, offering up his glass to the new bottle which Julie had brought over.
    “Don’t you dare drive home, Dad,” said Sarah, herself turning down the offer of more wine.
    She watched her father wink at her.
    “Don’t worry, darling — Mum’s picking me up,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. “But not before Jack’s spilled the beans !”
    Sarah saw Jack smile and put down his napkin.
    “Okay,” he said. “Let’s start with the beneficiaries — or, better still — let’s call them the players. Now who’ve we got?”
    “Emma, the carer,” said Sarah. “And Patrick, the brother.”
    “Tricia, the rather alluring lady friend,” said Michael. “Quentin never even mentioned her.”
    “So far, so normal,” said Jack. “Just your average line up at a will-reading. No other family, Tony? No children?”
    “None that I’m aware of.”
    “Okay,” said Jack. “So let’s look a little more closely at our final player …”
    “James Carlisle?” said Tony.
    “James Carlisle,” said Jack. “A spook if ever I saw one.”
    Sarah leaned forward. “Jack — are you kidding? A spy ?”
    She watched her friend look straight at her father. “Michael?”
    “Hmm, well …”
    Sarah could see that her father was taking Jack’s suggestion seriously.
    “Dad! Surely not? A spy — here in Cherringham?”
    “I have to say, time spent dealing with the various agencies back in my RAF days, um … well, yes, I’d probably have to agree with Jack. That sort … well, you could always tell.”
    “Good,” said Jack. “And by his own admission, a work colleague of Quentin’s.”
    “Work colleague … Good Lord …” said Tony, as if only now registering what James Carlisle had said. “That means …”
    Sarah looked around the table at the three serious faces. This conversation was now going into a totally unexpected place.
    “It means … that Quentin worked in intelligence too. But when? Well, we can work that out. How old was he? Eighty-nine?”
    Sarah saw Tony nod, and Jack continued.
    “So — he missed World War Two, if he was lucky — and therefore — was a Cold War warrior. Behind a desk, I’d guess. I bet thirty years ago he’d climb in his car every morning and tootle off to work in Cheltenham — Tony?”
    “Hmm, well, yes,” said Tony. “He always had a little flat right here in the High Street. He had said that he worked for a small investment company in Cheltenham.”
    “Investment?” Jack smiled at the word. “You could say that. It wasn’t called GCHQ then, but from what I’ve read over the years, you guys had a big intelligence set-up in Cheltenham. Our NSA used to send people over. Once in a while, I’d need to chat to them at One Police Plaza.”
    “Jack –you think he picked ‘investment’ for a reason?” asked Sarah.
    “Well, in those early days of digital intelligence and data, the spooks all knew who