The Last Enemy Read Online Free Page B

Despite being locked up in a police cell, Guy de Courcey didn’t seem at all troubled by the situation. The opposite in fact: he appeared almost amused about the whole thing.
    ‘Have the police told you that we apparently had a meeting with this Alex Munro this afternoon?’ Guy asked.
    ‘Yes.’ Jake sat down on the other bench in the cell. It was hard, just a concrete shelf. ‘I told them I didn’t have any such meeting. Not today, or any other day.’
    ‘I did,’ said Guy. ‘But not in a café in Crouch End at two o’clock. My appointment with him was for ten tomorrow morning at his office. I was nowhere near Crouch End at two o’clock.’
    ‘So, you’ve got an alibi?’
    ‘Yes, but it’s certainly not one the police are taking seriously. I was asleep in a hotel room the whole afternoon. And alone. Jet lag. That doesn’t count as an alibi as far they are concerned.’ He regarded Jake with an intrigued frown. ‘Are you saying that you don’t even know this Munro character?’
    ‘No,’ said Jake, shaking his head. ‘I’ve met him, but not for a long time. I certainly haven’t had any contact with him for months.’
    ‘Yet the police say your name was in his diary, along with mine.’
    Jake shrugged.
    ‘Someone’s setting me up,’ he said.
    ‘The police?’ asked Guy. He shook his head. ‘From my experience, the police in this country don’t set you up as blatantly as they do in some others.’ He looked at Jake in a superior way, and added, ‘Well, they might set people like you up. But generally, they play honest where I’m concerned.’ He gave a smile. ‘That’s one of the advantages of having a title.’
    Jake frowned.
    ‘A title?’ he echoed.
    ‘Viscount Guy de Courcey. At least, I was, but now I guess I’m the new earl, since the old man died.’ He gave Jake a broad grin. ‘Yes, you are sharing a prison cell with the Earl de Courcey.’
    ‘Am I supposed to be impressed?’ Jake asked sarcastically.
    Guy shrugged.
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘But a lot of people are. It’s amazing what having a title does. You can get tables in exclusive restaurants, seats for concerts . . .’
    ‘And put in a police cell,’ pointed out Jake.
    Guy laughed and Jake’s animosity towards the young earl faded slightly. Anyone who could laugh at himself couldn’t be all bad.
    ‘Good point,’ chuckled Guy. ‘Though with me, it’s an occupational hazard, one I’ve become used to. Which is why I guess that right now, some poor bored copper is sitting listening to our words of wisdom through a hidden microphone somewhere in this cell.’ He gestured towards the light fitting, which was set high in the ceiling and protected by a wire cage. ‘Possibly there. Maybe even a closed-circuit TV camera to keep an eye on us. That’s how they do it in some of the places I’ve been.’
    ‘You sound like you’ve been in this situation a few times,’ said Jake, intrigued in spite of himself.
    ‘Usually only overnight stays, or for a few days, in places like Honduras, Brazil, Mexico. Like I say, once they discover I’m from a titled family, they see dollar signs, and up until recently the family solicitor has generally bailed me out.’
    ‘I would have thought your family solicitor would have been here already, bailing you out of this one,’ said Jake.
    Guy shook his head.
    ‘I decided against contacting him. He doesn’t like me, thinks I’m a wastrel. And he’s very old-fashioned. You can tell that from his name: Montague Ainsworth of Hapgood, Ainsworth and Ainsworth. This new chap, Alex Munro from Randall Pierce, he sounded interesting. The sort who’d be prepared to cut a few corners. Bend the rules.’
    ‘Oh yes, he most definitely is,’ said Jake. Then he corrected himself. ‘Was,’ he added. ‘How did you meet Munro?’
    ‘I never actually met him,’ admitted Guy. ‘He tracked me down to a little place in Mexico, my last port of call. He phoned me up and offered me a plane ticket back to