‘Where is your husband?’ the bartender asked me in English. His eyes drilled into mine. He knew I was an imposter, but he couldn’t exactly stop me in front of all these men who were surely—probably—not part of the drug biz.
‘He’s waiting for me at the restaurant around the corner,’ I said. ‘I think I left my sunglasses in the bathroom earlier. They’re Gucci, very valuable.’
The bartender waved me towards the dark hallway. ‘Please, madame, go ahead and look.’
Further roars of laughter followed me as he no doubt embellished what I’d said to the bar’s patrons. My heart beat hard in my chest as I advanced down the hallway. I had to find a way into this hidden bar, and it couldn’t be a coincidence that the only door I hadn’t been able to rule out earlier was the one with the black cat. The doorknob vibrated with the bass throbbing from within as I placed a hesitant hand on it. My stomach was hollow with fear—the door was unlocked. I almost turned and ran back the way I’d come. I was a journalist, not an undercover detective. This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. But then I recalled once again the message threatening Ford’s life, and I squeezed my eyes shut, slipped inside and shut the door in one quick movement.
When I had the courage to open my eyes, I found myself standing on a narrow wooden platform overlooking a small bar. A set of steel stairs led down to the floor below where several round tables were spaced around the walls, each topped with a lamp with a bright red shade. A heavy pall of smoke hung in the air, illuminated pink from the red light shed from the table lamps. A giant mural of a black cat covered one wall. The hidden cat. The dark shapes of solitary men sat around a few of the tables, their eyes gleaming red in their faces as they pulled on their cigarettes. ‘Angel’ by Massive Attack played over the sound system, filling my senses like a physical presence and resonating in the platform beneath my feet.
I’d hoped for something less scary than what I’d built up in my mind, but the place was like something out of a David Lynch film.
Just as I was fighting the urge to leave and run as far away from this place as I could, to hell with Ford and the story, I spotted a familiar figure in one corner of the room. A small man, balding, with a black jacket. He was alone. A glass of whisky sat on the table in front of him. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips. Grady.
I started down the stairs, but by the time I reached the ground, his table was empty. I blinked. Had I imagined him? Or had he seen me and made a hasty retreat?
‘Who are you looking for?’ a voice shouted over the music.
The man behind the bar was looking me up and down, a bemused expression on his face. A quiver of unease crept through me. How had he known to address me in English?
I forced my limbs to obey me and rested my elbows on the bar, leaning forward so my cleavage was even more pronounced. ‘Just looking for some fun.’ I lowered my eyelashes and gave him a coy smile. ‘My dealer friend told me about this place and it sounded like a hoot.’
He met my smile, but his eyes kept dropping to my breasts. ‘Can I get you something?’
‘Coke, please.’ I pulled a note out of my purse and handed it to him. His fingers lingered on mine as he took it from me, and I had to try really hard not to yank my hand away.
‘Please, sit down while you are waiting.’ He gestured towards one of the empty tables.
No sooner had I turned away from the bar than a man with an angular face and dark, shaggy hair approached. He leant in close and his foul breath tickled my ear as he whispered something in French that sounded like it was probably dirty. His hand cupped one of my buttocks. My skin crawled with revulsion and I clenched my fists to stop myself shoving him from me.
I stepped back and gave him a playful slap on the hand. ‘Don’t touch what you can’t afford!’ I trilled, then giggled to show him I was at least partly joking.
He grabbed my arm hard and yanked me forward, holding me tight against him. I gasped, panic turning my body cold.
‘I have some business to attend to,’ he growled. ‘When I am done, then we will have some fun.’
He released me and I staggered back a few steps. My heart galloped as I watched him retreat to the far corner of the room. Once I was sure he wasn’t coming back over, I sat down at the nearest table and forced myself to breathe. All my instincts were screaming at me to get out of there. I wished I’d brought Nick with me after all, but now I was here, there was no going back. I had to find Chris.
The bartender appeared before me and placed a small silver tray on the table. On it were two short, straight lines of white powder and a straw. I gaped down at the tray.
‘Your coke, mademoiselle.’
The bartender met my look of consternation with an amused expression. No wonder he hadn’t given me any change. ‘Oh no, I meant a glass of Coke. You know, Coca-Cola?’
‘Of course, mademoiselle.’ He suppressed a smile and took the tray away, then brought back a glass of Coke and my change before returning to his position behind the bar.
I held the glass in both hands
