The Last Enemy Read Online Free Page A

I said I’d be reporting it too. So, you can start taking details of that, as well.’
    ‘We will. But first, I’d like to concentrate on what happened at Crouch End Broadway.’
    ‘I’ve told you, I had nothing to do with that!’
    ‘And this Guy de Courcey . . .’
    ‘I’ve already told you, I don’t know anyone called Guy de Courcey!’ snapped Jake angrily. ‘Look, I’ve tried to tell you that I’ve been framed, and that this could be linked to my bag being stolen from the British Library today. Someone who the staff at the British Library can describe to you. But you don’t seem interested! We’ve had our initial chat, as you call it, and I’ve told you the truth. I’m not saying anything more until I’ve seen my solicitor.’
    Bullen hesitated, then nodded.
    ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We’ll get on to the British Library and see what they say. And, as soon as your solicitor gets in touch, we’ll talk again. Until then, the constable will take you to a cell.’
    ‘But I’m innocent!’ protested Jake. ‘I’ve told you what happened!’
    ‘We need to check out some of what you’ve said. Until then, we’ll need to keep you here for when your solicitor arrives.’ For the tape, he added, ‘Interview terminated at 7.30 p.m.’ Then he gestured to the uniformed constable by the door. ‘Constable, take Mr Wells to cell number two.’

Chapter 3
    Lauren dialled the number again. So far she’d tried Gareth’s home number six times, and on each occasion all she’d got was an answerphone with a mechanical voice asking her to leave a message. This time she got a real voice.
    ‘Hello?’ said a woman.
    Lauren was aware of the nervous tone in her voice. But then, that could be because her husband was involved in the espionage business, and you’d always be worried about who might be calling.
    ‘Can I speak to Mr Gareth Findlay-Weston, please?’ she asked. ‘It’s urgent.’
    ‘I’m afraid Mr Findlay-Weston isn’t here,’ said the woman.
    ‘When will he be back?’ asked Lauren.
    ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you,’ said the woman. ‘Goodbye.’
    ‘No!’ shouted Lauren. ‘Please! My name’s Lauren Graham. Mr Findlay-Weston knows me. Jake Wells needs his help. He’s been arrested on a false charge of killing Alex Munro . . .’
    ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you,’ repeated the woman. ‘Goodbye.’
    And this time the phone was hung up.
    ‘I’m not letting it go like that,’ said Lauren grimly to herself; and she redialled the number. This time she got the recorded answerphone announcement, the mechanical voice asking her to leave a message.
    Damn!
     
    The turnkey unlocked the cell and gestured Jake inside. As the heavy metal door clanged shut behind him, Jake saw that there was someone else already in the cell, a young man in his early twenties. He was sitting on a bench, and he looked up inquisitively at Jake.
    ‘Let me guess,’ said the young man. ‘You must be Jacob Wells.’
    The young man’s accent was right out of the upper class; a clipped drawl.
    ‘Yes,’ said Jake warily. ‘Who are you?’
    ‘I’m Guy de Courcey. I believe you’re my alleged fellow-conspirator.’
    ‘I had nothing to do with any murder!’ snapped Jake.
    ‘You and me both.’ Guy nodded. ‘But it’s worth saying it for the tape.’
    ‘What tape?’ queried Jake, looking around.
    ‘A hidden mic somewhere,’ said Guy. ‘It’s the only reason I can think of for the police putting us together, hoping we’ll say something that will incriminate us. Unless there’s a shortage of cells in this place, of course. Which is possible. After all, it’s a Saturday night. Great night for street brawls.’ He grinned. ‘So, do you prefer Jacob or Jake?’
    ‘Jake,’ said Jake despite himself. There was a lot about the young man’s superior attitude that annoyed him, but at the same time he couldn’t help but admit that he also had some charm. It was in his smile and his confident manner.