Even Money by Dick Francis & Felix Francis

Author:Dick Francis & Felix Francis [Francis, Dick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller

I thought about staying over at the hospital in their guest suite, but if I wasn’t confident enough to go home alone tonight what chance did I have of taking Sophie there tomorrow?

However, I was still quite wary as I pulled my Volvo into the parking area in front of the dark house. I sat in the car for a few moments looking all around for anything out of the ordinary. Everything seemed fine.

I quickly locked the car and made it safely to my front door.

There were a few letters and bills on the mat but no threatening notes or demands.

Calm down, I told myself.

I tried to, but it didn’t stop me going all around the house checking that the windows were fully closed and drawing the curtains in every room. I had been quite disturbed to think of Mr. John Smith looking through the window at me as I had vacuumed up the mess in the drawing room. He wouldn’t be spying on me again tonight. I made sure of that by not allowing the slightest chink of light to escape through the blinds in the kitchen.

I laid the booty from my father’s rucksack out on the kitchen table, as I had done the first night I’d found it, and sat there looking at it.

Why didn’t I deliver the whole lot to Detective Chief Inspector Llewellyn and let him sort it out? Wash my hands of the affair and get on with my life, which was complex enough without microcoders, forged RFIDs and shifty-eyed men with long, sharp knives?

A good part of me thought that was a great idea.

But it had disadvantages too. For a start, there would be the difficult task of explaining to the chief inspector why I hadn’t given him the stuff as soon as I had found it or even given him the necessary information so that he could have found it himself. I didn’t exactly think he would be very happy about that. He might, with good reason, charge me with obstructing the police, and then what protection would they afford me against a knife man? None whatsoever.

Second, keeping hold of the microcoder and the money might give me some leverage, provided I kept alive long enough to use it.

I picked up my father’s mobile telephone and tried again to turn it on but without success. It had NOKIA written on the front. My mobile was a Samsung. I tried my charger, but the connection was wrong, naturally. I took the SIM card out of my father’s phone and put it in mine, but I seemed unable to get any details of his numbers. If there was anything there, he had stored it in the phone’s memory, not on the SIM.

I dug around in the bottom drawer of my desk, where I always put spare or old chargers, but nothing would fit.

I picked up the Alan Charles Grady passport and examined it. It had been issued nine months previously and appeared to me to be genuine, but I had no real idea of what an Australian passport should look like.

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