Sarah: one, Adelita: zero.
Nick called when I was on my way back to the hostel. ‘Where have you been?’ He sounded annoyed.
‘I’ve been doing some investigation,’ I said as I walked. ‘Ford was caught trespassing in Park Güell this morning. Hate to say I told you so, but… well, I told you so. I doubt he’s going to stick around here for much longer, so pack your bag. We’re leaving today.’
I hung up on him, partly for the satisfaction of doing it, and partly because I’d almost reached the hostel anyway.
Nick was in the internet lounge when I walked in. ‘So, where are we going?’
‘Rome,’ I said. ‘Let’s book the flights now. We have to leave as soon as possible.’
‘I suppose there’s no point asking you why you think he’s gone to Rome?’ he asked wearily, turning back to the computer.
‘He’s got a friend who lives in an area called Testaccio. He told me it’s away from all the tourists and you can be anonymous.’
Nick’s scepticism was heavy in his silence as he searched for flights.
‘I think his sister suspects he’s going there too,’ I added.
He kept his eyes fixed on the computer screen. ‘The same sister who’s probably trying to protect her brother?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Are you sure she’s not sending you on a merry chase while he takes off in the opposite direction?’
‘So we should go in the opposite direction instead, just in case?’
‘I’m just saying, you could do a bit more research before you fly us across the continent.’
‘We’re going to Rome,’ I said. ‘No arguments.’
Nick sighed and pointed at the screen. ‘The next available flight isn’t until five o’clock.’
‘But we have to get there as quickly as we can! We can’t miss another chance.’
‘Engage brain, Burrowes. The guy’s wanted by Interpol. He’s not going to want to be tracked by his passport, so he won’t be flying anywhere. There’s something like fifteen hundred kilometres between the two cities. Even if there were a train that went directly from Barcelona to Rome—and there isn’t, because I just checked—he won’t get there until tomorrow anyway. We’ve got time.’
‘Fine, book the flights then,’ I said huffily. ‘I’m going to pack.’
I stood up with the full intention of storming out, but my sore muscles had seized up again so my exit was more of a stiff-legged hobble. I swore as I pulled myself up the stairs by the handrail. As if Nick wasn’t annoying enough, once again he’d demonstrated how much more he knew about travelling than me. It was hard to be self-righteous when he was supplying me with basic information.
When we checked out of the hostel later that afternoon, Estel was back at the reception counter. She gave Nick a shy smile as I handed over my credit card.
‘It was great to meet you, Estel. I’ll email you when I get back to Australia,’ he lied.
‘It was also good to meet you, Nick,’ she replied coyly.
They shook hands and I noticed his thumb caress the top of her hand. I rolled my eyes and went out to hail a taxi.
The flight to Rome was delayed by two hours, then we had to wait another half an hour in the airport before my suitcase, which I’d brought with me in large part to piss off Nick, finally came out on the luggage carousel. Crowds of impatient people milled around, arguing loudly.
‘I suppose there’s no point telling you that we’d be at the hotel by now if you’d just listened to me in the first place?’ Nick grumbled as we waited.
I raised my hand to my ear in imitation of taking a phone call. ‘It’s the People’s Republic of Stating the Obvious. They want their president back.’
‘Mature, Burrowes.’
By the time we’d finally made it to our hotel it was quite late, so we had to settle for pizza at a restaurant around the corner. Even Nick couldn’t find any pretty Italian waitresses to flirt with.
‘So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?’ he asked as we ate.
‘We go to Testaccio, and we search the streets until we find him.’
Nick laughed. ‘Easy as that?’
The muscle in my jaw twitched. ‘We’ll book another hotel in the area if we have to, but we’re not leaving until we find him. I know he’s there. You should have seen his sister’s reaction when I mentioned the friend with the flat.’
‘And I’m guessing you didn’t think to ask the sister the name of this friend so we could find out where the flat is?’
My gaze burned into my dinner plate. Typical of Nick to focus on my mistakes rather than my successes.
‘What makes you think he’s going to be out on the streets, anyway?’ Nick went on. ‘He’s on the run from the police—wouldn’t he just hide out in his friend’s place?’
‘He’s not well known in Europe. And from what he said, I can’t see him cooped up in a flat for days on end. He’ll come out eventually for the food.’
‘You got the guy in bed and now you know his personality?’ Nick mocked. ‘Did he tell you that before or after he ditched you?’
‘Actually, I ditched him,’ I retorted. ‘Why do you have to criticise every idea I come up with?’
‘Come up with a good one and I won’t criticise it.’
‘I was right last time, wasn’t I?’
‘Beginner’s luck.’
I glared at him. ‘Have you ever wondered why people don’t like working with you, Nick?’
He gave me a slow smile. ‘What I’m wondering is how you scammed this job in the first place.’
I started. ‘What?’
‘I can see Katrina putting you on the case of the woman who waxed too many eyebrows, but chasing a murder suspect? I don’t think so.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I kept my voice light in an attempt to disguise my guilt, but I could feel my face getting hot.
His smile grew wider. ‘There’d be freelancers lining up around the block to cover a story like this, and yet Katrina sends you,
