Free Red Station by Adrian Magson Page B

defensive.
    â€˜I mean, how well did you know him? Like, were you drinking buddies, nodding acquaintances, were you about to be engaged, what?’ He waited but Rik looked blank, so he said heavily, ‘They searched his flat – they even sliced open the cushions. Are they likely to find anything that might bring them here, to you?’
    â€˜No. No .’ Rik looked shaken but defiant. ‘Of course not. I met him a few times around town, that’s all. It’s standing orders, to chum up with other foreigners, so I did.’ He explained, ‘I’ve always been interested in photography. He was happy to talk.’ He gave Harry a wary look, as if he might have made a grave error, then said, ‘These blokes . . . what did they look like?’
    â€˜It was dark. I didn’t see much, apart from the one in uniform.’ He thought back to when he’d looked out of his window. He hadn’t got a clear view of the man, and the street lights weren’t good. ‘Short hair, thin face . . .’ he shrugged. ‘The others, I only saw the tops of their heads. Why?’
    But Rik wasn’t listening. ‘Jesus, I was right!’ His face had gone even paler, and his eyes were gleaming as he stared round the room. ‘I knew it . . .’
    â€˜What’s going on?’ Mace had entered the office with Clare Jardine in tow. ‘You two not falling out, I hope.’ He hadn’t heard Rik’s last words, but had picked up on the tension in the air.
    â€˜No.’ Rik jumped in before Harry could say anything. ‘Harry was saying some blokes went through Mario’s flat last night. One of them was in uniform. Security cops.’
    Mace looked at Harry. ‘That so? Well, well. Wonder what our Latin snapper’s been doing. You take a look?’
    â€˜Yes. Nothing I could see, but they’d tossed it fairly comprehensively.’ He paused, wondering what was bothering Rik Ferris. But there was also something from last night coming back to him. Something about the contents of Mario’s flat. Or, more accurately, the lack of.
    â€˜What?’ Clare Jardine was watching him, had spotted something.
    â€˜He’s a press photographer, you said.’ Harry looked at Rik.
    â€˜That’s right. A freelance. Why?’
    â€˜There was some wrapping from a camera shop near the wastebasket. They’d kicked it over. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I think it was for a camera.’
    â€˜So? Maybe he needed a new one.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ Harry agreed. ‘But how many press photographers leave it until they get somewhere remote before buying a camera? Most photographers have a ton of photographic equipment lying around.’
    â€˜The cops could have taken it,’ Mace suggested. ‘If he’s been a naughty boy, they’d collect it as evidence. Or to sell.’
    Harry shook his head. Mace was being obtuse. ‘They were empty-handed. And there was nothing inside the flat; no cases, no lights, no lenses – nothing.’
    Mace shrugged, anxious to move on. ‘I don’t see there’s anything we can do. Best keep out of it.’ He looked at Rik. ‘Any chance he was Italian intelligence?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’ Rik looked shell-shocked. ‘Maybe. Probably.’
    â€˜Bloody right, probably. You’d best hope he doesn’t give ’em your name just to wriggle out of whatever mess he’s in, otherwise you’ll be next.’ He turned to Harry. ‘You’d better come in – you, too, Rik. Something to show you.’ They followed him into his office, where a PC monitor was humming on the desk.
    â€˜The details Clare picked up yesterday from her contact,’ he said, moving behind his desk, ‘were map co-ordinates.’ He flipped a hand towards a large map of the country on the wall behind him. A red marker was