Twelve Red Herrings by Jeffrey Archer Read Free Book Online Page B

bureaucracy.
    It must have
been about eleven weeks after my appeal had been turned down that the cell door
was thrown open, and the senior officer on my corridor announced, “The Governor
wants to see you, Cooper.’
    Fingers looked
suspicious. Whenever he heard those words, it inevitably meant a dose of
solitary.
    I could hear my
heart beating as I was led down the long corridor to the Governor’s office. The
prison officer knocked gently on the door before opening it. The Governor rose
from behind his desk, thrust out his hand and said, “I’m delighted to be the
first person to tell you the good news.” He ushered me into a comfortable chair
on the other side of his desk, and went over the terms of my release. While he
was doing this I was served coffee, as if we were old friends.
    There was a
knock on the door, and Matthew walked in, clutching a sheaf of papers that
needed to be signed. I rose as he placed them on the desk, and without warning
he turned round and gave me a bear hug.
    Not something I
expect he did every day.
    After I had signed
the final document Matthew asked: “What’s the first thing you’ll do once they
release you?”
    “I’m going to
buy a gun,’
    I told him
matter-of-factly.
    Matthew and the
Governor burst out laughing.
    The great gate
of Armley Prison was thrown open for me three days later. I walked away from
the building carrying only the small leather suitcase I had arrived with. I
didn’t look back. I hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take me to the
station, as I had no desire to remain in Leeds a moment longer than was necessary.
I bought a first-class ticket, phoned Hackett to warn him I was on my way, and
boarded the next train for Bradford.
    I savoured a
British Rail breakfast that wasn’t served on a tin plate, and read a copy of
the Financial Times that had been handed to me by a pretty shop assistant and
not a petty criminal. No one stared at me – but then, why should they, when I
was sitting in a first-class carriage and dressed in my new suit? I glanced at
every woman who passed by, however she was dressed, but they had no way of
knowing why.
    When the train
pulled into Bradford, the Don and his secretary Jenny Kenwright were waiting
for me on the platform. The Chief Superintendent had rented me a small
furnished flat on the outskirts of the city, and after I had unpacked – not a
long job - they took me out to lunch. The moment the small talk had been
dispensed with and Jenny had poured me a glass of wine, the Don asked me a
question I hadn’t expected.
    “Now that you’re
free, is it still your wish that we go on looking for Jeremy Alexander?”
    “Yes,” I
replied, without a moment’s hesitation.
    “I’m even more
determined, now that I can taste the freedom he’s enjoyed for the past three
years. Never forget, that man stole my freedom from me, along with my wife, my
company, and more than half my possessions. Oh yes, Donald, I won’t rest until
I come face to face with Jeremy Alexander.”
    “Good,” said the
Don. “Because Williams thinks Rosemary is beginning to trust him, and might
even, given time, start confiding in him. It seems he has made himself
indispensable.” I found a certain irony in the thought of Williams pocketing
two wage packets simultaneously, and of my being responsible for one, while
Rosemary paid the other. I asked if there was any news of Jeremy.
    “Nothing to
speak of,” said Donald. “She certainly never phones him from the house, and
we’re fairly sure he never attempts to make any direct contact with her. But
Williams has told us that every Friday at midday he has to drop her off at the
Majestic, the only hotel in the village. She goes inside and doesn’t reappear
for at least forty minutes. He daren’t follow her, because she’s given specific
instructions that he’s to stay with the car. And he can’t afford to lose this
job by disobeying orders.” I nodded my agreement.
    “But that hasn’t
stopped him