Bodyguard: Ransom (Book 2) by Chris Bradford

Author:Chris Bradford [Bradford, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780141971513
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2014-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

Ruth McArthur lit her second cigarette of the night. Exhaling a puff of acrid smoke, she watched it rise up to the grime-stained ceiling of the pedestrian underpass running beneath Manning Road on Sydney’s University Campus. The fluorescent strip lights, naked and harsh, cast a sickly glow on to the colourful scene surrounding her. The walls, ceiling, and even the floor were infected with a profusion of graffiti and tags, as if the tunnel itself was bleeding paint. Cutting through the smog of her cigarette, the lingering fumes from aerosol cans filled Ruth’s nostrils and made her slightly nauseous.

Yet as editor-in-chief of Sterling’s flagship paper, Australian Daily, she’d experienced her fair share of war zones, drug dens and slums. So this particular location didn’t spook her at all. Not that this meant she was naive. She kept a firm grip on her car keys in one hand, a tip she’d learnt from self-defence lessons. The protruding metal points made an effective improvised weapon if the situation demanded it.

The tunnel was deserted, the silence almost echoing in on itself. In these late hours of night, the only life passing through would be the occasional tagger or graffiti artist wanting to make their mark.

Ruth glanced at her watch, beginning to wonder if her contact from the Government Department of Resources and Energy would show. Acquiring information on the Harry Gibb case had been like getting blood from a stone. No one seemed to want to pursue any other line of enquiry than death by natural causes. Case closed. But her inside contact claimed to have proof otherwise.

Stamping out her cigarette, Ruth reached into her bag for her phone. Her contact might have left a message. She thumbed in her password, but there were no missed calls and her inbox was empty. One of the strip lights flickered and buzzed overhead, dimming the passageway momentarily. She glanced up and had to stifle a scream in her throat. Where there had been just shadow now stood a man in a grey suit. Having not heard or seen his approach, it was as if the man had materialized straight out of the graffiti, leaching all colour in the process.

‘Ruth McArthur?’ the man said, his voice dry and somehow soulless.

‘Yes,’ she said, unclenching the keys in her fist. This must be her contact. ‘And you are … James?’

The man was older than Ruth expected, yet at the same time strangely ageless. Like a well-preserved corpse, she thought, before shuddering away the unsettling image in her mind.

‘So you want to know about Harry Gibb?’ he said.

Ruth nodded.

The man glanced up and down the tunnel. ‘You’re not an undercover cop or federal agent, are you?’

‘No, of course not.’ Ruth produced her press ID.

He studied her photo and credentials. ‘Press passes can easily be faked.’

Ruth appreciated the reason for her contact’s wariness. The fallout from Harry Gibb’s corrupt dealings was catastrophic for the current government. Many in power had been glad of the politician’s death and were hoping the scandal would be buried along with him.

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