I decided to avoid the vaporetto, partly because I didn’t actually know where to go, but also because I was still feeling queasy from the after-effects of the drugs. The last thing I needed right now was to throw up on a happy tourist, especially looking the way I did now. I pulled my tank top up in an attempt to cover my cleavage and anchored it on one shoulder with the strap of my bag. I was drawing many curious looks from the tourists, but I held my head high as I walked.
The warm morning breeze, freshened by the Grand Canal, embraced me and made me feel slightly better. Smaller canals crisscrossed one another, lined with pretty houses painted in a myriad of colours from yellow to pink to terracotta. Bright flowers bloomed in every window box. Boats bobbed patiently on the water outside front doors that opened right onto the canals.
I followed the crowd and eventually found myself in an area away from the canals and populated by shops, restaurants and cafes. I paused at a pharmacy to buy paracetamol and washed the tablets down with a cappuccino and a bomboloni, an Italian donut filled with raspberry jam and dusted with sugar. As I walked on, the combination of food, caffeine and drugs seeped into my system and I began to feel more normal.
But finding an internet cafe was not as easy as I’d expected. By the time I’d finally seated myself at a computer in a cafe near the Ponte di Rialto for a ludicrous price, it was past eleven o’clock and I was exhausted again. I found the number for the hotel we’d been staying in then moved over to the phone booths.
To my surprise, when I asked to be put through to Nick’s room, he answered immediately.
‘Sarah?’ He sounded breathless. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine, Nick. Sorry I didn’t—’
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ His voice cracked. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I asked the receptionist if you’d gone out this morning and she said that you’d handed in your key last night and hadn’t come back. What’s going on?’
‘It’s kind of a long story,’ I said. ‘I’m in Venice.’
‘Venice?’ He sounded like he was about to lose his voice. ‘Do you really expect me to believe that?’
‘If you’d just let me explain—’
‘Explain what? I don’t care if you wanted to hook up with him, but you could at least have called to let me know what happened.’
‘Hook up? What? No, no! My phone battery went flat—’
‘How convenient.’
‘Nick!’ I shouted. ‘I didn’t hook up with Chris! If you’d just let me get a word in I’ll tell you what actually happened.’
The other patrons in the internet cafe peered curiously at me. I lowered my voice and went on. ‘I didn’t even see Chris last night. He’d told me about a hidden bar in Le Chat Masqué that the cartel operates from, so I went back there to check it out.’
‘You what?’
‘Will you stop yelling at me? I didn’t tell you yesterday, but when I was snooping around in that office, I found a phone message from Grady. He said he was going to get rid of Ford. I had to go back and warn him.’
There was a brief silence.
‘I thought we were working together.’ Nick’s voice was quiet, accusing.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I wanted to tell you, but—’
‘But what? Thought I’d cramp your style, is that it?’
‘No!’ I cried. ‘That wasn’t the reason.’
‘Then what was it?’
I hesitated. ‘It was dangerous. I thought it’d be better if you didn’t get involved.’
‘Well, you obviously handled things marvellously on your own. What part of your cunning plan involved ending up in Venice?’
Through gritted teeth, I told him the entire story. He only interrupted me to say, ‘And you actually drank it?’ when I got to the part about the bartender drugging my Coke. When I finished, he was silent for a moment.
‘They didn’t… do anything to you, did they?’ His voice was rough with anger or worry, I wasn’t sure which.
‘You mean other than put me on a train halfway across Europe?’
‘You know what I mean,’ he said quietly.
‘Yes, I know. And no.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’d know, Nick.’
‘Of course. Sorry. I’m glad you’re… OK.’
The concern in his voice made me feel all warm and glowing, but then he gave a low whistle. ‘So, now you’re in Venice and you still haven’t found out anything new?’
The glow dissipated. I wished I could reach through the phone and hit him.
‘I’ve found out plenty, thank you very much. Last night I was convinced that Ford was innocent, but now I’m not so sure. He could have been the one who set me up…’ I stopped, and the piece of the puzzle that had eluded me all morning clicked into place. ‘Hang on, last night that guy said something weird just before I passed out. He told me that Bright isn’t dead.’
‘Not dead?’
‘Which means that Ford must know that he’s still alive… and that leads me to wonder why he’d be running from the police.’
‘Maybe he’s involved in this drug ring after all,’ Nick said.
‘Or maybe he doesn’t know, and Bright’s still in hiding. Anyway, I’d better go. Whatever that guy drugged me with has really messed with my head. I need some air.’
‘Should I come to you or are you coming back to Paris?’
‘I’ll come to Paris,’ I said. ‘I still have to find Ford and work out what’s really going on there.’
‘Great idea, Burrowes. Maybe this time you’ll actually get yourself killed. You’re not going back there.’
‘Like I take orders from you.’
‘Well, you’re not going back alone.’
‘Fine. You can come, then.’
‘No more heroics, OK?’
‘And no drinks this time,’ I agreed.
We hung up and I returned to a
