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About fifteen minutes had passed when Alex motioned that they were at their stop. Alex led them towards a shop front that had a bicycle attached to a square, yellow trailer with the words‘Puzzles, Stripboeken’on each side. The store had wide, black framed windows with‘Yendor’emblazoned in gold on the top panel. It all looked completely non-threatening. Once inside, she realized it was a comic book store.What kind of contact was this?She’d been expecting a deserted warehouse or a sleazy pub.
‘We’re meeting your contact here?’ Sarah knew they were meeting someone called Mick, but not much more.
He squeezed her hand and winked. ‘Follow my lead.’
Alex wandered to a far aisle and casually draped an arm around her shoulders. With his free hand, he flipped through the comics in front of him. Confused about what was happening, Sarah occupied herself by following suit. The comics commanding Alex’s attention were in English, ‘The Phantom’, ‘Mandrake’, ‘The Shadow’ and so on.
‘Huh, they never have Number 97,’ Alex grunted.
Puzzled, Sarah slowed her random flicking, trying to anticipate what Alex was looking for. After another moment of his focused searching, she said, ‘Why don’t you just ask if they have whatever it is you’re looking for?’
‘Good idea, babe.’ Alex headed towards the counter.
Dumbfounded, Sarah trailed behind. She had never known Alex to read comic books and really doubted this was some sort of well-kept secret. But then, to be honest, she hadn’t picked him for a killer either.
‘Hey man, you got a copy of The Spider, number 97?’ He asked the red-haired clerk whose badge declared his name was ‘Will’.
‘Oh no, if it’s not on the rack, we don’t have it.’ Will smiled politely.
‘Damn,’ Alex seemed disappointed. ‘Hey, Mick isn’t out the back, is he? He said he’d put a copy aside for me if he ever found one.’
Sarah watched the exchange, intrigued. Either Alex was really into comic books or she had just stepped onto the set of some kind of 1980s spy show.
‘Yah, let me check,’ the ever-helpful Will responded.
Sarah looked at Alex meaningfully but he just smiled. ‘He’s checking.’
A small man with a shock of blonde hair emerged from what she assumed was ‘the back’. He was dressed in jeans and a faded black t-shirt with a Captain America shield emblazoned on the front. Sarah was starting to lean towards her well-kept comic book secret theory.
‘Alex!’ The accent wasn’t Dutch or Australian. ‘Good to see you, my friend.’
The two men clasped hands.
‘Come with me, I think I have what you are looking for.’
She followed Alex as Mick retraced his steps. So, this was the contact and what Alex’s little ruse was all about. Sarah still couldn’t place the accent as the small talk continued while they moved into a stock room full of boxes of comics and figurines and other paraphernalia. As they continued to catch up on the various states of their health and the weather on both sides of the equator, Mick was shifting boxes from what appeared to be a cupboard door. She stood to the side, an invisible spectator.
‘Through here.’ Mick indicated they should follow him into the cupboard.
To her surprise, the cupboard had a false back that hid another doorway to an office. She stepped through, thinking the comic book theory had just lost some points.
‘I was wondering how soon I would see you, my friend.’ Mick took the chair behind the small desk that sat in the middle of the room. He gestured to Alex and Sarah to sit on the chairs facing the desk. ‘Tell me, the hotel, it is good. No?’
A two-seater, beaten and worn brown leather sofa sat along the wall behind them. Beige, four-drawer filing cabinets lined the remaining three windowless walls. A laptop sat on the otherwise empty desk. Sarah could detect no sound from outside of the room. The creak of chairs and the shuffling of feet was the only noise. No clocks ticked or appliances whirred. It was like they had slipped into some kind of void. Her body gave an involuntary shudder.
‘I see you are indeed alive and well, Miss Sarah Darcy.’
Sarah was startled at her sudden inclusion in the conversation, and that this man knew who she was. It shattered her earlier musings about comic book theories, reminding her of the danger that now haunted her.
‘Oh, I am sorry. How rude of me,’ Mick looked conciliatory. ‘I am Mikhail Gorban, entrepreneur.’ He offered her his hand.
‘You are famous, you know. All over the television.’ Mick opened a drawer and removed a bottle of clear liquid and three shot glasses. ‘Your mother was too emotional to speak but your brother said some lovely things about you.’
Sarah’s stomach lurched. Her mother and brother were on TV, they already knew? For some reason, she thought she could keep them in the dark for a while. She sat up straighter in her chair as Alex’s hand covered hers. He gently squeezed her fingers.
‘Yes, very sad. You can tell the police think you are dead but they are going through the motions for your family’s sake.’ He unscrewed the lid and poured three shots.
‘Mick... ’ There was an edge to Alex’s voice.
