Chapter Twenty-Three

Standing in the control room, Luke stared at the cell phone in his hand. Jenna wasn’t answering.

What had made her suspicious? She’d seemed relaxed, more relaxed than he had ever seen her before.

He’d felt the same. For the first time in over ten years, he’d woken feeling at peace, but he should have known it wouldn’t last. That the world would intrude.

If Jenna had gone to the police, he could be expecting them on his doorstep anytime soon, and he had no intention of being around when they arrived.

The search into Merrick had thrown up nothing at first. The investigation into Jenna’s father had been much more interesting. Jonathon Young appeared fine on the surface; all the proper facts were there. He’d been born an only child in London to parents who were also alone. He’d gone to medical school in Edinburgh, then a residency in a London hospital, then spent time doing research before taking up general practice. He’d married a Sandra Leavsey. They’d had one daughter, Jenna, and divorced four years later. There were no details of his wife other than a name.

He’d almost told Stefan to stop the research, they were wasting their time—the man was obviously perfect. As that thought had crossed his mind, he’d paused.

No one was perfect. Jonathon Young’s life had been totally uneventful, and that fact alone should have rung alarm bells.

Instead of calling off the investigation, he’d told the researcher to dig deeper, and Jonathon Young’s life had unraveled. Until twenty-two years ago, he had not existed. His whole life was a web of lies.

Luke had read the reports from the accident. While Jonathon Young’s life might have been a lie, his death appeared genuine. Just an accident.

So who was he? Who was Jenna?

Young was likely a real doctor. It was the weak point, and if the man had had any sense, he would have changed that. Maybe he needed the doctor thing because Jenna had this genetic illness. Maybe being a doctor gave him access to the drugs she needed. But why couldn’t she have gone to a different doctor? Unless her actual illness revealed something her father had wanted kept a secret.

He crossed to where Stefan was working. “Found anything else?”

Stefan shook his head. “I’ve come to a halt trying to work backward. It’s a dead end. He’s covered his tracks too well.”

Luke pressed his fingers to his eyes. Maybe they needed to approach it from another angle. “Go back to Merrick. Back to twenty-five years ago. Where he was working, who he was working with—especially any medical doctors who could fit Young’s profile.”

Stefan glanced up after a minute, a grin lighting his face. “How did you know? There he is. Dr. John Creighton. The age fits. They went to university together—Cambridge. Merrick studied biochemistry, Creighton medicine. Creighton did a residency at a hospital in London but moved into research and got a job with Merrick a couple of years later. That’s all at the moment. You want me to look into it?”

“Yes. Everything you can find about him.” He thought for a moment. “Where were they working together?”

Stefan studied the screen. “Bentley Research, a biotech company.”

“Find out everything you can about that, as well.”

If they dug deep enough, they might find a connection between the Conclave and Bentley Research, although that didn’t explain the tie to Descartes.

“Luke?”

Callum came to stand beside the desk, his face stamped with excitement.

“You’ve found something?”

“Ivory Coast.”

“The Conclave’s old haunt.”

It was where Luke had first met his friend, back before he had even heard of the Conclave. Luke had been posted to Ivory Coast with his regiment, providing a peace-keeping force. Callum had been with his SAS unit, attempting to free some British aid workers who’d been kidnapped. His unit had come across something unexpected and had been wiped out. All except Callum, who’d been badly injured in the attack but had managed to crawl away and lasted two days alone in the jungle. Luke had found him and saved his life, and they’d been friends since.

Callum had left the army afterward, bitter at what he considered the lack of investigation into the death of his men, but Luke had kept in touch. Eventually, Callum had introduced Luke to his sister, Leah. She had been the catalyst that had changed Luke, made him see there was more to life than the exhilaration of danger and the excitement of a good fight. He’d given up the Legion and gone home with every intention of settling down.

That hadn’t worked out well. Maybe some people weren’t meant for a settled existence.

And now they were going back to where it started, Ivory Coast.

“One of our informants there has picked up a rumor,” Callum said. “Apparently, some guy walked out of the jungle over a week ago, spouting a story that his whole village was dying. He’d gone out searching for work, came back and found the place surrounded by trucks and armed guards and everyone sick. He got out of there fast.”

Luke had long ago learned to go with his gut instinct. Now, it was screaming at him that this was important.

“Where is he?”

“My guy is trying to find him, but it looks like he’s vanished.”

Luke got to his feet. He paced the room, every sense telling him to move fast. “We need to get out there.”

“The plane’s ready to take off when you are.”

“Good.” But thoughts of Jenna nagged at his mind, and he realized with a shock that he wanted her safe. He was sure she was caught up in the middle of something she couldn’t understand and was liable to stumble into danger without knowing. She was naïve enough to think the police were the good guys. She hadn’t yet learned there was no such thing.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tried her again—still no answer—and he swore softly. Hoping she would read it and get back to him before she gave herself up to the police, he typed in a text message. Next, he called the man he’d had watching the local police station for any sign of Jenna, but she hadn’t turned up, and Luke suspected she’d lied. The morning after Griffith’s murder she’d spent a few hours at New Scotland Yard. It would make sense she’d go there now.

“Still no sign of the woman?” Callum asked.

“No, but everything’s cleared here. If the police do turn up, they won’t find anything.”

“We’ve been friends a long time and I’ve never known you to make mistakes. If she’d been in one of the holding cells, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Luke didn’t bother to deny it. “I’m going to call Scotland Yard.”

“And tell them what?”

“I’ll speak to the detective in charge. Tell him he needs to keep a close eye on her.”

Callum frowned but didn’t argue.

He looked up the number and then punched it in. “Could I speak with the officer in charge of the David Griffith murder? I have information.”

Eventually a man answered. “Detective Inspector Mitchell.”

“Do you have a Jenna Young, there?”

“Who is this?”

“She’s in danger. Don’t let her out of your sight. If anything unusual happens, question it.”

There was silence for a moment. “I don’t know who you are, but I suggest if you have any information pertaining to the murder of David Griffith, you get down here and make a statement.”

Ignoring the suggestion, Luke ended the call.