Right. Time to pull myself together. I’d try to call him one last time, and then I’d go to the warehouse without him. Adelita and I would just have to find some other way to get in.
A deep rumble followed by a shrill ringing blasted in my left ear. I scrambled to a sitting position. There was an iPhone on the bedside table, vibrating in a slow circle. Nick’s phone. I stared at it in mute astonishment for a second, then killed the call and snatched it up. Four missed calls, two voicemail messages, the screen told me. It had been here all along.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed to stand up and my foot brushed against something. The strap of a bag protruded from under the bed. A camera bag. Nick’s camera bag.
Unease prickled the back of my neck. I could see him leaving his phone here if he’d been freaked out by what he’d done. But not his camera. That thing was practically attached to him. He’d never leave it behind.
The image of the open door from this morning flashed into my mind. Perhaps he’d left it open because he’d been planning to come back and he didn’t have a key. Maybe something had detained him. Maybe he’d come back while I was out with Adelita, but he hadn’t been able to call me because his phone was locked in the room.
But surely he would have found a way to get in contact with me? Surely he would have hung out in his room at least?
I tried to call Adelita, but now her phone rang out too. Was she still punishing me for yesterday? But there was an uncomfortable, tight sensation in my belly. Adelita was too much the professional to indulge in such games.
The series of coincidences clicked into place in my mind, one after the other. The open door. Nick disappearing off the face of the earth, leaving his camera with me, of all people. Adelita not answering her phone.
Something was wrong.
The last thing Adelita had said was that she was going back to the warehouse. If something had happened to her, it would certainly have been there. I didn’t allow myself to entertain the thought that was knocking around in the back of my mind—the far, far worse thought that Nick could also be in danger.
I was about to dash out of the room when an idea popped into my head. Perhaps there was someone who could help me.
I waited nervously as the phone rang and rang. I was on the verge of giving up, then relief flooded through me at the sound of his terse voice.
‘Harrington.’
‘Hello, Mr Harrington, this is Sar—’ I racked my brain to remember which name I’d given him when we last spoke. ‘Kate Smith. I spoke to you a few days ago—’
‘Ah, the Australian lawyer,’ he interrupted. ‘So, who are you defending now? Don’t tell me the cartel leader is the Easter bunny?’
I ground my teeth together in the effort not to hang up on him. ‘I know where Grady is. If you want to catch him, you’d better get to Amsterdam pronto.’
‘Why should I believe you?’
‘Because he tried to shoot me yesterday!’ I cried.
He sighed impatiently. ‘One minute you’re in Australia defending a drug dealer, the next you’re being shot at in Amsterdam. You sure have a pretty eventful life for a public defender. Don’t call me again.’
‘I think he has my friends!’ I shouted before he could hang up. ‘I think he’s going to kill them, and the police won’t help me.’ My voice grew more hysterical with each word, despite my efforts to control it.
‘Not my problem,’ he said coldly. ‘My job is to bust open this cartel, not save musicians.’
‘Well, if that’s really what you want, I found their headquarters yesterday—’
‘Wait, you found the warehouse?’ Harrington interrupted.
‘They’ve moved the drugs out since yesterday, but I believe that’s where they have my friends. Please help me.’
He paused. ‘I can’t just jump on a jet because of your outrageous stories.’
I leapt on his hesitation. ‘My photographer got photos of the drugs. I think Grady kidnapped him, but I’ve got his camera. I can get the photos off and send them to you. What’s your email address?’
My feet danced impatiently on the floor as I waited for him to respond. I was itching to get out of there and find Nick before it was too late, but even I knew it would be foolish to run in there without backup.
‘If I get there and find out you’re lying to me, you’re going to be in a great deal of trouble,’ he said.
‘I’m not lying!’
‘All right. I’ll get there when I can.’
‘Thank you so much—’ I started to say, but he’d already hung up on me.
I leapt up from the bed. I knew the sensible thing would be to sit tight in my hotel room and wait for the cavalry to arrive, but I’d never been very good at being sensible. The door to my room slammed closed behind me as I ran up the hallway. Nick could be lying in a gutter somewhere, legs broken, bleeding. Or worse. Whatever his reason for leaving me this morning, I couldn’t just do nothing for however long it took Harrington to get from London to Amsterdam.
I’d just reached the lobby when I had another idea and raced back up to my room. I may have lost my dictaphone, but Nick’s phone still sat beside my bed. I grabbed it and ran from the room.
The street scenes blurred in my peripheral vision and my sneakers beat a muffled tattoo on the footpath as I sprinted towards the dark network of lanes near the warehouse. I darted down each alley, my heart in my throat, hoping I could remember the way. They all looked the same,
