TWENTY

Jay’s knees softened. She swayed briefly. Turner was there in a flash, a hand beneath her elbow. ‘Jay,’ he murmured. ‘I am sorry.’

‘Take me to him.’

‘Of course.’

Within minutes Jay was cocooned in the rear of a shiny black Mercedes with darkened windows. A uniformed driver sat up front, while Jay and Turner sat in the back. Rain hammered on the windows and roof, and the windscreen wipers swept from side to side, not making much headway. Visibility was low, and the roads were awash. It felt as though they were driving along the bottom of the ocean.

She remembered the urgency in Blake’s eyes when she’d skidded to his side, demanding where he’d been hit. His saying, ‘Not . . .’ He’d been trying to tell her he hadn’t been shot. That he wasn’t hurt. Despite this reasoning, part of her couldn’t believe Turner was telling the truth. Something inside her suspected a trap, but she couldn’t help but go along with it. Just in case Blake was alive.

‘Why didn’t he ring me?’ she asked.

Turner leaned forward and pressed a button, raising the partition between them and the driver. ‘He couldn’t.’

‘Where did you keep him?’

‘I can’t say.’

‘Who kidnapped me?’

He fell quiet.

Finally, Jay ventured, ‘Have you heard of the Garrison?’

‘Blake talks about nothing else.’ His expression was neutral. ‘He has some wild theories, but no evidence. The only evidence that appears irrefutable is that he killed Solomon Neill and Rick Wayland.’

‘Rick?’ For a moment she wondered if she’d heard him correctly. ‘What do you mean, he killed Rick? Rick’s my old boss. He’d never kill him. He didn’t even know Rick.’

‘The gun that killed Major Wayland was found in Blake’s garage.’

‘You can’t believe that.’ Jay snorted. ‘He’d never be stupid enough to leave a murder weapon lying around.’

‘It was hidden in the roof.’

‘It could have been hidden in his sock drawer and it wouldn’t change the fact he didn’t kill Solomon Neill or Rick Wayland.’ Jay was almost grinding her teeth in frustration.

‘The evidence—’

‘I saw the woman who killed Sol,’ Jay hissed. She looked him straight in the eyes as she spoke. Her tone trembled with conviction. ‘I was there. I watched her ram a stiletto into the back of Sol’s head. I tackled her, tried to stop her from getting away . . . Blake did not kill Sol. OK? And he did not kill Rick Wayland.’

The car made a couple of turns, began to head north-west through the burgeoning traffic.

‘The prosecution says differently.’ Turner sighed heavily. ‘They think he went off the rails. They want to subpoena you.’

Jay felt a moment of disbelief. ‘Me?’

‘They’re saying Blake killed Neill and Wayland in a jealous rage.’ Turner pursed his lips. ‘Blake saw you with Sol Neill in Paris. He thought you were having an affair . . . Then he heard you were meeting Rick Wayland . . .’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Is it?’ Turner fixed her with a pale grey gaze. ‘Tell me what’s been going on, Jay. I’m having trouble understanding.’

Again, Jay told the story of Sol’s death, the gendarmes taking down her statement and then the two men who said they were from the DCRI – Marfart and Prideaux – taking her to the farmhouse where Nahid and Tivon were. Blake’s collecting her from Ully-St-Georges. The Paris apartment filled with antiques. Blake’s shock on seeing his own face on TV, wanted for murdering his old friend. His trying to protect Jay by sending her back to England. Nahid coming to Tom’s house to threaten her.

‘I was kidnapped last Friday. Nick and I reported it to the police, but when I went and saw them this morning they said they can’t find the man who was driving the Polo that night and have no clues from the car park. The sergeant who took our initial statements has been transferred I don’t know where . . .’ She trailed off. A sense of helplessness trailed through her.

‘I would like to ask one question,’ Turner interjected. His features remained a cool mask.

‘Yes?’ Jay said.

‘If all this is true, why do you continue to fight? You make the Garrison sound like an all-powerful organization, with eyes and ears everywhere. If it exists, in the way you’re beginning to believe it does, do you really think you can win?’

Her whole body went cold.

‘I think you should persuade Blake to confess,’ he added.

Blood pounded behind her ears. She opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure exactly what, and then closed it again.

‘Blake will listen to you. Tell him to plead guilty to the charges and I can protect you. Fight any further and I can’t guarantee your safety.’

She stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. He stared back. His eyes were as empty and emotionless as a shark’s.

‘You’re with them.’ Her voice was a whisper.

He didn’t deny it, simply turned his head to stare out of the window. They didn’t say anything more until the car drew up outside the police station where Blake was being held. Leaving the engine running, the driver came to Jay’s side of the car and opened the door.

‘They’re expecting you,’ Turner told her. ‘And don’t forget to tell Blake what I said, will you?’

Blake was standing at the far end of his cell, arms folded, shoulders against the wall. His eyes were closed. He looked as though he was meditating.

‘Are you all right?’ the guard accompanying her asked.

It was only then that she realized she was shaking. She heard a sound she didn’t recognize, a strange whimper, and for a moment she wondered where it came from, but then she realized it was her.

Blake’s eyes snapped open. Looked straight at her.

She froze in place, but then he said, ‘Jay.’

She pushed past the guard and ran flat out for him, gasping, calling his name.

He moved towards her. She slammed into the widely-spaced iron bars, but he pushed his arms through and wrapped her against his chest.

‘Max,’ she breathed.

‘I know,’ he murmured.

‘I thought you were dead.’

‘I wish you hadn’t gone through that.’

She wound her fingers through his hair, fiercely cupping the nape of his neck. ‘Kiss me,’ she said. ‘God, please. Kiss me.’

He bent his head and touched his lips to hers. She clutched him tightly through the bars, kissing him, half-sobbing, half-laughing as he pulled her tightly against him, so tightly she could barely breathe.

‘It’s OK, hon,’ he told her. ‘It’s OK.’

Gradually, she regained her composure. ‘No, it’s not.’ She pulled back, wiping her eyes. ‘Not with you in here.’

‘You bring me any goodies?’ He quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘The food’s terrible in here.’

‘Sorry. I came straight over. What would you like?’

‘A cake with a file in it would be nice.’

Jay glanced over her shoulder to check on the guard – she didn’t want a potential Garrison member eavesdropping on their conversation. She relaxed when she saw him leaning against the wall where she’d left him, and that not only was he out of earshot, but he also appeared absorbed with texting on his mobile phone.

‘How long have you been here?’ she asked Blake.

‘The boys finished with me yesterday. Hand-delivered me to the cops first thing this morning. It seems I have no friends any more.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Aside from you, that is. You’re my first visitor. Looking good, as usual.’

‘And you look terrible,’ she said, studying the purple rings beneath his eyes, the pallor of his skin. He’d lost weight too, she realized. He was gaunt.

‘That’s what sleep deprivation does.’

Her heart clenched. ‘Turner said they had you for a week.’

‘Yup.’

‘What did they—’

‘Don’t ask.’ His expression closed.

‘Why did they tranquillize you? Why didn’t they . . .’ She wanted to ask why they hadn’t killed him, but couldn’t say the words.

‘You want to know why I’m still alive?’ He looked amused.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m more trouble dead.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘If I die, then all hell breaks loose, because my colleagues will think twice about everything I’ve said. Right now, they think I’ve gone off the rails, seeing bogeymen in our midst. But if I wind up dead they’ll consider the fact I might have been bumped off and will investigate.’

‘Oh.’ She bit her lip.

‘Much safer to have me tucked away, accused of a couple of murders. So when I go down, they can forget all about me. The DNA evidence is tight.’

‘Doesn’t everyone know DNA is fallible? That it can be planted?’

‘Sure, but there’s a lot more against me. Like the fact I was in Paris at the right time, in the right place. And the gun that killed Wayland was tucked in my roof.’

He talked her through why he was in a holding cell in the basement of the police station. Apparently, he was waiting to appear at Westminster Magistrates Court the following day, where the authorities would decide what to do with him next – whether he should go to trial by jury in the UK, or be extradited to France. ‘I’m hoping to stay in the UK,’ he said. ‘But anything could happen.’

‘What can I do?’

‘You say you saw Turner?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he have any luck finding the gendarme you spoke to after Sol was killed? He was hoping to persuade him to testify. Once we have one whistle-blower on board, he’s convinced others will follow.’

Jay’s mind raced, trying to work out what to do, what to say. She replayed Turner’s words:

Blake will listen to you. Tell him to plead guilty to the charges and I can protect you. Fight any further and I can’t guarantee your safety.

Whether Turner really was with the Garrison or not was a moot point. He wasn’t on their side if he wanted Blake to plead guilty. She touched Blake’s face. He turned his head and kissed the tips of her fingers. Her heart contracted. No way would she let him spend the rest of his life in jail.

‘He said to hang in there,’ she lied. ‘He’s doing everything he can to help.’

‘Good man. Work with him, OK? He’ll keep you safe.’

Jay gave a nod. She was careful not to meet his eye while she lied.

‘Any news on Emilie?’ he asked.

‘She’s still fighting, apparently. Nick’s got a NATO buddy out there checking on her daily.’

‘Tell him thanks.’ Blake scratched his throat with a finger. ‘Any luck decoding Sol’s stuff?’

‘Not yet.’ She went on to tell him that Nick was on board, along with the girls. ‘Nick said he heard the Garrison might be involved in the prison system, eliminating undesirables so that the taxpayer won’t have to waste millions of pounds protecting, say, child killers.’

Blake’s expression turned distant. ‘There are some people who might agree with that.’

‘I studied the statistics of deaths in prisons,’ Jay continued. ‘The number of deaths by natural causes has almost doubled in the past ten years.’

‘How did they die?’ His tone sharpened.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Ask Tom to help you. He’ll have access.’

Jay’s gaze slid aside.

‘Everything OK there?’ he asked.

‘Not really,’ she mumbled. ‘We had a row.’

‘Does that mean I’m in with a chance?’ His eyes gleamed.

Jay studied his face, re-memorizing every angle, every plane. She remembered her regret that she’d never made love to him. Unbidden, desire rose, flushing her neck, her cheeks.

His eyes immediately darkened. ‘When I get out,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ she said, putting her hand on her heart. It was a promise.