LONDON
Sam didn’t know what gear he was in
and he didn’t notice when his foot dropped off the accelerator. The car slowed
gradually, the lane was straight, then it started shuddering violently as the
engine struggled to keep turning over. Sam tensed, startled, slamming down the
accelerator and the brake. The car stopped with a jolt. He stared through the
windscreen at the mesh the branches made covering up all the space on either
side and above the lane.
He had failed; completely. Jack
Catholic had made it to the plane and was now on his way to America; somewhere
so vast Sam would never find him.
He took his hands off the wheel and
held them up in front of his face. He thought about Lucy – her beauty; the way
she laughed when she laughed at him – then he put his hands back on the
steering wheel and rested his head there in the centre too and felt fatigue
deeper than he had ever felt before.
His mobile started ringing. Sam sat
up sluggishly and reached into his jacket for it. “Yeah.”
“Will Harrison here.” The private
detective.
“Tell me you have something.”
“I’ve got an address.”
“Too late. I’ve already been there.
He’s gone.”
“Wow. Okay, great. Tell me again why
you hired me?”
“What else did you find?”
Harrison cleared his throat. He had
nothing more. Sam went to terminate the call but stopped before he had. He put
the phone back to his ear.
“Harrison, I want you to do something
for me. Jack Catholic has inherited a large sum of money from someone in America.
It strikes me that they probably found a lawyer to take care of the English
side of business. See if you can find the one who did it.”
“Okay,” said Harrison. “Are you
alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“What are you going to do?”
Sam paused, then he said “I have
somewhere I need to visit.”
He cut the connection, slipped the
phone back into his pocket and started up the engine.
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