The Rift Rachel Lynch (epub e ink reader .txt) 📖

‘It’s obviously a code name for someone – we need to find out who he is,’ Grant said.

‘So, you think leaving here, where my son is, to spy on my own ships in Marseilles will deliver him to me? What if I miss a call to meet somewhere here in Lyon? For an exchange, perhaps? I only just arrived.’

Grant was seated by the window, overlooking the city. Khalil’s pacing made him dizzy.

‘No, I just think that you getting on with your important business in your offices in Marseilles will distract you, while I track down who is in charge of your shipment. My bet is it’s Sand Cat, or at least it will lead me to him. And then I’ll find out where Hakim is.’

‘And what if it is a code name for an event, not a man?’

‘Madame Bisset was pretty shaken up by my friend. She was adamant that this was a name, not a place or a plan,’ Grant said. He was eager to get going. ‘Why don’t you stay here, if you’re worried?’ he suggested.

The flight for tonight was logged and the passenger list approved by the authorities. Every flight in the world had to hand one in. Grant had suggested driving but Khalil wouldn’t hear of it.

‘I have nothing to hide,’ he’d said.

But that wasn’t the point. Any investigator worth their salt would be monitoring Khalil’s movements in France during the investigation into his son’s disappearance. And he knew that Helen was a fine operator. She’d see the passenger list as soon as she was aware that Khalil had decamped to Marseilles, and that meant she’d see his name as well.

‘I know her,’ Grant said. At last, Khalil stopped pacing.

‘Who?’ Khalil asked.

‘Major Helen Scott, the one you spoke to. The one who asked who your new head of security was.’

‘You know her, how?’

‘We worked together, back when I was in the forces still.’

‘Is she good?’ Khalil asked.

‘Yes. The best.’

‘Good, so now I have two excellent operators trying to find my son – this is a bonus. We still fly. When she finds out you are with me, then it will make her work harder, will it not? I presume you were on amicable terms?’

Grant hesitated momentarily. ‘Yes, we had much respect for one another.’

‘Excellent. Let’s go,’ Khalil ordered. Their bags were already downstairs. The suite here at the InterContinental in Lyon would be kept for Khalil, as he expected to return after a day or so, once he’d checked in on his head office at the port in Marseilles. It was one of the most important trading posts for AlGaz, and Grant figured a visit from the boss would be a distraction from what was really going on at the port, hence giving him an opportunity to check the shipments.

The phone in Khalil’s hand rang, and he jumped, almost dropping it. Grant watched as he composed himself and answered. Grant knew straight away, from Khalil’s body language, that the person on the other end of the phone was Fawaz Nabil. There was no doubt that his boss was talking to the man who held Hakim’s life in the balance. Grant had to acknowledge that time was running out. Almost a week had passed and they’d made headway but were no closer to their target. He knew that Khalil was losing patience and clarity of thought. This conversation could prove pivotal; after all, Khalil’s ships, and whatever was being transported inside them, were almost on European soil.

‘I want to speak to my son,’ Khalil’s voice broke slightly, and Grant glimpsed into the heart of the man whose exterior was as cool as the arctic tundra. It was clear that Fawaz denied this request. Khalil closed his eyes.

‘I have done what you asked. Now it is your turn, on your honour, to show me that you are true to your word and release my son,’ Khalil said. It pained Grant to see him beg.

‘What do you mean, it’s more complicated now?’ Khalil’s question astonished Grant, and he stood up, motioning to Khalil to put the phone on speaker but it was an old Nokia without that function and Grant tutted. What the hell was going on? The goalposts were moving, and Grant didn’t like the sound of it. Khalil beckoned him over and they shared the handset. They both listened to the voice on the other end, which was as smooth as honey and utterly in control.

‘Somebody very important to me has gone missing, and I’d like you to find her for me, Khalil,’ Fawaz said.

‘Who? If I do this, my son will be returned to me?’ Khalil asked.

Grant stopped him with gestures. Khalil was pleading and on the verge of compromising any leverage he had, and Grant wanted to know who they were talking about before making any rash promises.

He found a pen and paper and scribbled to him in English.

Take control of your voice. He knows you’re the prey here – he can smell it.

Khalil nodded.

‘It depends on the woman being returned unharmed,’ Fawaz said.

Grant could have kicked something to vent his frustration at the glaring contradiction of the man, but he was dealing with scum.

Khalil replied calmly. ‘You’ve changed the rules, Fawaz. How do I know that you won’t break your promise again? My son’s life is not a game. Tell me who this woman is,’ Khalil demanded.

Grant nodded to him. They still had bargaining chips – the shipment full of Fawaz’s goods, for one, whatever that turned out to be – and Grant was going to make it his job to find out. It was all about leverage. The question was how far Khalil could push Fawaz before the reality of Hakim’s life being in danger hit him, and all bets were called off. Khalil’s nerve had held until now, but Grant could see that he had little left in the tank. He listened to Fawaz.

‘Two of our men were arrested by Interpol today. I can’t guarantee that our