I was staring absently at the phone trying to work out my next move when I realised there were two cords plugged into the back of it. One led to the connection in the wall, the other disappeared from sight behind the desk.
I crouched down and squeezed back under the desk to investigate. It was too dark to see much, but my fingers found the cord and followed it to a drawer at the back. My heart beat faster as I opened the drawer and took out a small answering machine. The digital ‘1’ illuminated the underside of the desk with a soft red glow. My hands quivered as I fumbled in my bag for my dictaphone, held it close to the machine and hit record before playing the message. Grady’s gravelly voice filled the room.
It’s me. I’ve spoken to Ford. He’s still talking about going to the police. There’s a girl trying to find him too—he says she’s some crazed fan he met in Australia—so be careful what you say to any Australian tourists. He’s on his way there now and I’ll be there in a day or two. If we can’t get him on board this time, we’ll have to get rid of him.
The machine beeped at the end of the message and I returned it to the drawer, my mind whirring. I’d just got to my feet again when the door burst open and I found myself face to face with the very man I’d been looking for since we arrived in Europe.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ford and I stared at one another in astonishment. For a second neither of us moved nor spoke, then he darted into the room and closed the door.
‘Sarah! How did you find me?’
‘I heard your friend Grady tell you to come here.’
His face twisted. ‘He’s not my friend.’
I paused. We were as far apart as the tiny room would allow—his back was pressed against the door, while I was still behind the desk. I wanted to get closer to him, but I didn’t dare move.
‘Can you tell me what happened to Angus Bright?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know what happened to Angus!’ he exclaimed.
‘Then why are you running?’
He shifted from one foot to the other as if he’d like to run right now. ‘You don’t know what’s going on here.’
‘So tell me. If you’re innocent, let me help you.’
‘No. I know what you journalists are like.’
‘Why don’t you go to the police?’
He laughed bitterly. ‘It’s not that easy.’
‘Tell me,’ I urged. ‘Please.’
For a second he looked like he was about to give in. Then he noticed the voice recorder in my hand and his expression changed to suspicion. ‘What’s on the dictaphone?’
‘Nothing.’ I stuffed it in my pocket. ‘Just recording what I’ve seen here. Which is not much.’
He didn’t say anything. I thought about the phone message—Ford obviously hadn’t told Grady I was a journalist, so he mustn’t completely distrust me. I was sure I could convince him to talk.
‘Is this Grady’s bar? He’s involved too, isn’t he?’
He frowned. ‘Involved in what?’
‘The drug ring,’ I said. ‘Whatever it is that Angus was into.’
He started. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘I paid Jack a visit. You should probably avoid telling your friends too much if you don’t want to leave a trail.’
He swore under his breath.
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ I went on. ‘I told him we were in a relationship and that I was a private investigator trying to get you out of trouble. But he probably shouldn’t trust people so easily.’
Ford’s body sagged against the door. He looked like he wanted to give up. In other words, he was exactly where I wanted him to be.
‘The police are looking for you, Chris. They think you murdered Angus.’
‘I didn’t murder him!’
‘Then you need to tell them that. Running is not helping your case.’
He groaned. ‘It’s too late for that. I panicked, and now I look guilty. I can’t go to jail. I won’t go to jail. It’ll ruin my music career.’
‘Being a fugitive for the rest of your life isn’t going to do much for it either,’ I said drily.
His expression was wretched. ‘I’ve got nothing to prove my innocence. Grady said he’d protect me.’
‘The National Crime Agency has been watching Grady since he got out of jail. If we can get evidence that he’s involved with the cartel, maybe we can work out what happened to Angus and get you off at the same time.’
‘But how? Grady’s watching me constantly. I only got away now because he thinks I’m asleep.’
‘Pretend to get involved,’ the ruthless journo part of my brain said before the life-preserving part could kick in. ‘If you can get me in there, I’ll get your proof.’
He shook his head. ‘No. It’s too dangerous.’
I took a few steps towards him, but he wasn’t running now. I almost had him.
‘What are the alternatives? You can stay on the run forever. You can go to the police on your own. Or you can trust me to help you.’
He didn’t move as he considered the options I’d laid out for him. The silence stretched between us for an excruciating minute. I held my breath.
‘OK,’ he said eventually. ‘What do you need me to do?’
A surge of excitement gripped me. I’d done it. I was going to get the story.
‘Tell me everything you know. Is this Grady’s bar? What’s his role in the cartel?’
‘You’re right, Grady does own this place. But it’s just a cover for the real business downstairs.’
‘Downstairs?’
‘There’s a hidden bar underneath us,’ he said.
‘The hidden cat,’ I murmured. ‘What is the business?’
‘I’ll explain later. It’s not safe for us to talk here. We need to go somewhere else.’
‘Where? When?’
‘I can’t go far from here. There’s a bar around the corner called Le Tigre de Papier. Come back tonight at nine o’clock. I’ll meet you there.’
‘Nine o’clock?’
‘Nine
