Free Sure Fire by Jack Higgins

broke off, biting her lip.
    â€œKill him? I dunno. I really don’t.” Rich patted her gently on the shoulder. They needed to do something, he thought. Anything to feel busy and stop them getting too depressed. If Jade got in one of her moods, then she’d hide in her room and do nothing at all, which wouldn’t help anyone. “Let’s check Dad’s stuff for clues.”
    â€œWhat clues?” Jade asked, following Rich through to the study.
    â€œDon’t know till we find them,” he admitted. “But he was taken for a reason. If we can find out why, then we’re a good way to knowing who. And then we work on where. Right?”
    â€œRight.” Jade wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and went over to the desk. She started leafing through the papers on it. “I guess we need addresses, phone numbers, anything.”
    â€œDo you think he was expecting to meet the menwho took him?” Rich wondered. “He was certainly meeting someone.”
    â€œAnd if it wasn’t them, who was it?” Jade agreed.
    At that moment, a bell rang. It took a moment for either of them to realise that it was the doorbell – they hadn’t heard it ring before. Then they were both running to see who was there.
    As they reached the door, there was the sound of a key scraping into the lock.
    â€œDad?!” Rich exclaimed, throwing open the door.
    The man standing outside, holding the key, was a stranger. He wore thick-rimmed glasses and a long raincoat. His free hand was clutched to his chest inside the coat. He was swaying on his feet.
    â€œWho the hell are you?” Jade demanded.
    In answer, the man fell forwards, and Rich was only just able to catch him and hold him up. “Help me get him inside,” he said.
    â€œWhy?” Jade demanded. “Who is he?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Rich was gasping under the man’s weight. “Just help, will you?”
    The man seemed to have recovered enough to take some of his own weight. With the help of Rich and Jade he staggered through into the living room,where he collapsed on the sofa.
    â€œChance,” he said, his voice rasping with the effort.
    â€œHe’s not here,” Rich said.
    â€œDo you know where he is?” Jade asked.
    The man shook his head. “Is it safe? The sample – is it safe?”
    â€œWhat sample? What’s he talking about?” Jade leaned over the man, staring him in the face. “Just who are you? Do you know what’s happened to our dad?”
    Even from where he was standing, Rich could see the man’s eyes were glassy and unfocused. Rich rubbed his fingers and brought his hand up to his face. His hand was covered in blood. Not just a smear or a splash. It was like he was wearing a crimson glove. On the floor, Rich could see the red trail, leading across the room to the sofa.
    Jade seemed to have realised there was something terribly wrong too. She stood upright slowly, as if hardly daring to move. Rich could see that the man’s coat had flapped open. The man still had his hand to his chest and blood was seeping through his fingers, staining the whole of the front of his shirt.
    â€œOh, my God,” Jade said quietly. “What’s happened to you?”
    â€œHe’s been shot,” Rich realised with horror.
    The man was struggling to speak. “Don’t worry about me. Just… the sample.”
    Jade looked at Rich and then back to the man. “We don’t know about any sample. We have no idea what you’re on about. Who are you?” she asked again.
    â€œPhillips,” the man gasped. Speaking seemed to be even more of a struggle now. “Andrew Phillips. Friend of Chance – your father.”
    Rich was watching as if through a fog. But it was clearing slowly. “I’ll call an ambulance,” he said. “The police.”
    Phillips shook his head. “Too late,” he rasped. “Far