The Set Up Read Free Page B

cul-de-sac full of tiny brick townhouses. She stopped outside one with a red door and took out a key.
    It struck me that this whole thing could be some kind of trap. Some elaborate plan to lure me away from home and rob me . . . or worse. My fingers tightened round the phone in my pocket and I braced myself, ready to run.
    Dylan pushed open the door and indicated I should go inside.
    ‘What about you?’ I could hear the shake in my voice. I cleared my throat.
    ‘I’m going home,’ she said. ‘I’m in London for a month, staying with relatives. I just came over to see Jack for the morning. He’s inside.’ She leaned into the hallway. ‘Jack!’ she yelled. ‘Nico’s here.’
    She pointed to an open door at the end of the hallway. ‘Wait in there.’
    I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but before I could speak Dylan shut the door, leaving me alone in the hallway. My heart pounded. Rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans, I crept along the dimly-lit hall. What the hell was I doing here? I reached the door at the end and pushed it open.
    A kitchen. Wide . . . bare . . . full of pale wood, with a few designer appliances on the countertop and a huge stainless steel fridge in the corner.
    So where was this Jack Linden?
    I looked around anxiously. There were bars on the window, which looked out over a tiny, overgrown courtyard. I heard footsteps down the stairs and along the corridor. My stomach twisted over. I had to be insane coming in here like this.
    And then the door burst open and Jack Linden swept into the room like a tornado.
    ‘Nico?’ He was breathless. Filling the kitchen with his presence. ‘I can’t believe it. You’re here .’
    He was tall, maybe in his late thirties or early forties, with dark wavy hair and wide eyes – a bright, startling blue. He laughed. ‘After all this time,’ he said. ‘I’m finally meeting you . ’
    I nodded, unsure what to say. At least he seemed normal. I slowly let my breath out, beginning to calm down.
    ‘Sorry, let me . . . I’m Jack. I’m . . . Christ, I don’t know where to begin. ‘
    ‘Um . . .’ I hesitated. ‘How about we start with how you know me?’
    ‘Sure, er . . . let’s sit.’ Jack led me over to a couple of stools beside the wooden counter. We sat down and Jack adjusted the back of his jacket so the shoulder line sat neatly. I’d already clocked his suit. Dark grey, with silver buttons. Dead flashy and very designer.
    ‘I . . . okay.’ Jack blew out his breath. ‘Years ago, before I got into, er . . . data retrieval, I worked for a scientist called William Fox. Fergus Fox’s brother.’
    My mouth fell open. ‘My stepfather , Fergus Fox?’
    Jack nodded.
    ‘Fergus has a brother ?’ I said.
    Why hadn’t he ever mentioned that?
    ‘ Had a brother,’ Jack corrected me. ‘William’s dead now. Like I say, I used to work for him, raising money to fund his scientific research. He was looking into gene sequencing. One Christmas William invited me and some other friends to a party and Fergus was there with your mum.’
    ‘So you knew my mum, too?’ My stomach churned. I didn’t often meet people who’d known my mum. She’d died when I was little from a rare cancer, and my own memories of her had almost faded. At least I wasn’t sure any more what was a real memory and what was a story Fergus or someone else had told me about her.
    ‘I didn’t know her very well,’ Jack admitted, ‘but she made a big impression on me that night at this rather dull party. She was great fun . . . really lively. We got chatting and she explained to me she was going to have a baby.’
    I nodded. I’d heard my mum’s story many times – how she arrived in London to study English, got pregnant by some man she hardly knew, and then met Fergus, a teacher at her college, who took her in when she had nothing and no one else to look after her.
    ‘Anyway, to cut a long story short, William’s research was going well. He had discovered a series of genetic