‘I don’t think he’s going to leave us a trail of breadcrumbs, Burrowes,’ Nick said.
‘So we go somewhere with lots of people, where he has to follow us all the way in to find us.’
‘And when he leaves, we’ll be right behind him,’ Nick finished.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell me you approve?’
‘It’s less stupid than what we’ve been doing so far.’ But he was smiling.
We made our way to the large food hall attached to the market. It suited our needs perfectly, as the only way into the hall was through the market itself which, like yesterday, was teeming with people. We found a table at the edge of the packed hall where we could watch the entrance without looking too obvious.
‘You keep an eye out for him and I’ll get us some food,’ Nick said.
There was no sign of the man through the throngs of people, but I knew he was out there somewhere. It was only a matter of time before he showed. The smells of all the different foods taunted my nostrils, and my stomach rumbled.
Nick returned, laden with two plates piled high with steaming bolognese, a bottle of red and a wine glass tucked under each arm. My mouth watered. Thoughts of Ford and the man in the cap disintegrated as Nick set the plate of pasta in front of me. I dove in with my fork. I’d only managed one mouthful when Nick spoke.
‘Don’t look, but he just walked in.’
My heart beat faster, but I forced myself to chew slowly. Nick poured wine into our glasses.
‘He’s making a call,’ Nick said in a low voice. I inhaled another forkful of pasta and resisted the urge to look around.
‘OK, looks like he’s leaving.’
I regarded my full plate with longing, then stood up. The back of the man’s cap disappeared into the market. ‘Let’s go.’
We reached the main market entrance just in time to see him disappear down a narrow street across the other side of the piazza. I rushed after him.
‘Not too fast,’ Nick cautioned. ‘We don’t want him to know we’re following.’
I forced myself to pause at the beginning of the street. It wouldn’t do for him to turn around and see the very people he’d been watching running headlong down the street towards him. I peered down the cobbled lane. He was walking briskly, as if in a hurry. He turned right down another lane, and we set off after him.
We followed at a distance as he led us through a maze of streets so narrow that the surrounding buildings blocked out the sun. The billowing shapes of laundry hanging from clotheslines were silhouetted against the sky above us. Finally, sunlight streamed into the lane as the man in the cap stepped out into a small, open piazza. We watched from the corner of the lane as he crossed to a small group of wrought-iron tables and chairs set up outside a cafe. A solitary man sat at one of the tables, smoking a cigarette and flicking the ash into an empty saucer. He was reading from a small paperback book, his head down. I couldn’t make out his face.
The man in the cap walked straight up to him and placed both hands, palms down, on the table. The man raised his head. I gasped.
It was Ford.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘It’s him!’ I hissed at Nick. He already had his camera out and was attaching his biggest telephoto lens. The man in the cap was leaning over the table, his face close to Ford’s. His stance looked threatening even from where we were standing.
The little piazza, empty of all other people, was like an amphitheatre, and the man’s words carried clearly. ‘You’ve gotta move on, son.’ His voice was harsh and rasping, with a thick Manchester accent. Nick had been right. ‘There are people looking for you. You can’t stay here.’
‘Maybe he’s the friend with the flat!’ I whispered to Nick.
‘He doesn’t look much like a friend.’ Nick didn’t look up from his camera. He was down on one knee, shooting photos in rapid succession.
‘Who could possibly know that I’m here?’ Ford asked.
‘There are two of them,’ the man said. ‘A girl who’s been telling everyone she’s your girlfriend, and some gay guy.’
‘Girlfriend?’ Ford looked confused. ‘The only girlfriend I’ve had in years is Virginia.’
‘It’s not her, I can tell you that. I’ve been keeping an eye on them, but they’re gonna find you if you keep going out. I told you to stay inside.’
‘I was going crazy cooped up in that flat.’ Ford raked a hand through his hair. ‘I had to get out for a while.’
‘You’ll be going more crazy in the clink doin’ twenty to life,’ the man snarled.
Ford flinched.
The man in the cap leant closer to him. ‘How do you expect me to protect you when you keep going against my orders? They almost saw you at that restaurant last night.’
Alarm crossed Ford’s face, followed by despair, then resignation.
‘I don’t want to hide anymore,’ he said. ‘I think I should just go to the police. Tell them everything.’
‘You’ll do no such thing!’
‘Wouldn’t it be better to get it all out in the open?’ Ford’s face was earnest as he looked up at him.
The man grabbed the front of Ford’s shirt and shoved him against the back of his chair. ‘I told you, you’ll do no such thing. You need to move on.’
‘I don’t have anywhere else to go.’ Ford looked helpless and scared. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
The man appeared to consider this for a moment. ‘Go to Paris. Find a bar called Le Chat Masqué. I’ll meet you there.’
He released Ford’s shirt and stalked off.
‘What’s in Paris?’ Ford called after him.
But the man in the cap kept walking. I watched as Ford stubbed out his cigarette on his empty plate and straightened his crumpled shirt.
‘I’m going to talk to
