Seventy-two

Ghita was still awake when Blaine arrived back at her secret apartment. She was sitting on the sofa in a bathrobe, her hair pinned up on the crown of her head.

‘Please don’t judge how I look,’ was the first thing she said.

‘I’m not judging you,’ Blaine replied tenderly.

‘Did you get the information... did you find out where they’re holding my father?’

‘In the mountains. They’re keeping him in the mountains.’

‘Which mountains? The Atlas or the Rif?’

Blaine pulled his bow tie loose.

‘He didn’t say. I’m so sorry.’

Ghita began to weep. She covered her eyes with her hand.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she sobbed.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Are you expecting someone?’ Blaine asked.

‘No... no one except for you knows I am here. No one except for...’

‘Saed.’

Ghita unlocked the door and the shoeshine boy stepped in as if he owned the place.

‘How was Club Souterrain?’

‘Well, the good news is that they’ve caught a guy who admitted to killing the backpacker.’

‘And the bad news?’

‘That I couldn’t find out where Ghita’s father is being held – just that it’s in the mountains.’

‘Which mountains?’

Blaine shrugged.

‘Dunno.’

Ghita started sobbing again.

‘I have an idea,’ said Saed. ‘An idea that may work.’

‘What is it?’

‘I’ll ask my girlfriend.’

‘You’ve got a girlfriend?’ Ghita and Blaine exclaimed both at once.

‘Yes, of course I do. She’s older than me, and she works for the commissioner at the main police station.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us this before? It could have saved a lot of time,’ Ghita said witheringly.

‘Not to mention a lot of drinking,’ murmured Blaine.

Saed filled himself a tumbler of neat Grey Goose and took a long satisfying gulp.

‘You are very lucky,’ he said.

‘How’s that?’

‘Because she owes me a big favour – a favour I have been waiting to use for a very long time.’