Well, fuck him. I could do this story without him. I didn’t need him. He’d got those photos of Ford and the man in the cap. Katrina would just have to settle for them, because there was no way I was going to work with him for another minute.
I walked faster and faster. Through my rage, I registered the rumble of a motorcycle that kept pace with my walking. It was only as it mounted the footpath behind me that I turned to look back. The dark flash of the rider’s eyes was all I saw through the slit in his helmet. Then he reached out and grabbed the strap of my bag. My first instinct was to keep hold of it, but his grip was too strong. He accelerated and dragged me out onto the road. I lost my balance and let go just as the motorcycle roared off. I crashed to the ground face first in the path of oncoming traffic.
The loud screech of brakes filled my ears and the grille of a Jaguar came to a halt only inches from my face. My heart felt like it would leap from my chest, but my brain wouldn’t work sufficiently to tell my legs to move. Then came the sound of running footsteps and strong arms lifted me from the road and set me down on the footpath. Several cars had banked up behind the Jaguar. Angry drivers yelled out their windows at me, then their tyres squealed as they sped away.
My breath came in gasps. Nick crouched before me. His hands clasped my face. His eyes were panicked. ‘Are you OK?’ I could only stare back at him, uncomprehending. ‘Sarah, are you OK?’ he asked again, more urgently. ‘Did you hit your head? Do you need an ambulance?’
‘No, no,’ I managed to get out. ‘I’m fine. But my bag…’
He helped me to my feet, his hands on my shoulders. And as he realised I was unhurt, his expression changed to anger. ‘How could you be so fucking stupid?’ He released my shoulders and marched away up the footpath a few paces, then turned back, grabbed me again and gave me a quick shake. His face was red with rage, his eyes wild.
I could only stare back at him, stunned by the ferocity of his expression. His fingers dug into my shoulders, his eyes drilling into mine. Then the fire died out and he let me go. ‘You could’ve been killed.’ His voice was flat.
‘My bag,’ was all I could get out.
‘What did you have in it?’
‘Everything. Passport, purse, money, credit cards, dictaphone.’ I groaned. ‘Oh god, the laptop with all my notes! The only thing that wasn’t in there was my phone.’ I felt in my back pocket where it had remained throughout the encounter.
‘For fuck’s sake!’
‘What are you so shitty about?’ I shot at him. ‘I’m the one with no money or identity here.’
‘Why am I shitty? Why am I shitty?’ His voice got louder with each word. ‘I’m shitty because sometime tomorrow Ford is going to arrive in Paris, and we’re going to be stuck here in Rome for the next week while we wait for your fucking passport to be reissued. That’s why I’m shitty.’
‘Can’t we just go to Paris now and worry about the passport then?’
‘How do you think you’re going to get on a plane without a passport, Burrowes? Anyway, it’s illegal not to report it as soon as it happens.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yeah, shit is right. Let’s go to the Australian embassy before it closes.’
He walked off, still swearing under his breath. I followed miserably. As we continued on my original path along the Tiber, the full implications of what had happened settled on my shoulders in an uncomfortable load. Not only would we be delayed here for as long as it took to reissue my passport, but I was going to have to tell Katrina what had happened. To say she wouldn’t be happy was an understatement. She was going to kill me.
And on top of everything, I was going to be entirely dependent on Nick. Just as I’d decided not to spend another minute with him, this had happened, and now I wouldn’t be able to leave his side.
CHAPTER NINE
Once we’d reported my stolen passport at the embassy, we returned to the hotel we’d stayed in near Stazione Termini. My only consolation was that I once again had access to my suitcase, so I could at least change out of the sweaty, grubby clothes I wore.
I scraped up my last vestige of courage and rang Katrina to fill her in on the latest developments. At least she couldn’t fire me twice.
Despite the late hour in Australia, she picked up on the first ring, and as I’d guessed, she was less than sympathetic. ‘You got mugged?’ she repeated in disbelief. There was a long, exaggerated sigh. ‘This is really starting to piss me off, Burrowes. You’re costing me a lot of money and so far you’ve got no results. And now I can’t even haul you back here because you’ve got no fucking passport. I knew I shouldn’t have risked sending a rookie like you.’
‘But I spoke to Ford!’ I protested.
‘You did?’ She sounded surprised.
‘I’ve got a lead. I think his manager’s protecting him. He told him to go to Paris.’
‘Lot of good that does me when you can’t follow it up. How many days?’
‘Three.’
She swore again. ‘Can’t you at least send Nick to Paris to find this guy? He’s no journo, but then again, neither are you.’
My temper
