Perfect Strangers

Sophie did as she was told, matching his pace as they moved towards the exit.

‘What’s up?’

‘I think we’re being followed,’ he said under his breath. ‘Big guy, muscular, short black hair. Don’t look.’

But Sophie couldn’t help herself, glancing behind to see the man – unmistakable in an unseasonable black coat – pushing through the crowd while talking on his mobile phone.

She felt herself stiffen.

‘This way,’ said Josh, pulling her towards an exit sign to the left.

Suddenly Sophie felt someone grab her in a vice-like grip. Pain seared up her arm.

‘Josh!’ she screamed, meeting the second assailant eye to eye. Instinctively she swivelled around and kicked the man as hard as she could in the shin. He lost his grip, cursing in a language she didn’t recognise as Sophie sprinted for her life.

Josh caught up with her, grabbing her hand and pulling her out into the street, body-swerving a crate and dodging a crowd of teenagers standing at a bus stop. Out of the station, Sophie was immediately buffeted by noise and movement on all sides. The roar of traffic on the road, the blare of car horns, mopeds zipping in front of them, people everywhere. She didn’t have time to process it all, had to treat them all as objects to be avoided, to get past, to get away from.

‘Keep going,’ yelled Josh as they reached the other side of the road. Sophie didn’t need to look to know that the crop-haired man and his friend with the sore shin were close behind them. She could almost feel their feet pounding through the pavement. Fear and adrenalin made her run faster.

‘Down here!’ They plunged into a warren of back streets; hotels and cheap restaurants – plenty of internet cafés around here, Sophie thought crazily – with doorways and back entrances providing a wealth of places to hide, but they couldn’t stop; one blind alley and they could be trapped. They sprinted out of a narrow street and on to anoth

er main road.

‘Look out!’ Sophie screamed as Josh was almost tossed over the bonnet of a white taxi with a squeal of brakes.

‘Monsieur! Monsieur!’ he cried, waving to the driver. ‘Arrêtez!’

He yanked the cab’s door open and they both fell inside.

‘Allez, tout de suite, s’il vous plaît!’ he shouted. ‘Vite, vite!’

Mercifully, the driver did as he was told and they jerked into motion. But their relief was short-lived. Through the rear window, Sophie could see the two men jumping into a car just behind them.

‘That’s not a taxi,’ panted Josh. ‘There’s more of them.’

Josh turned to the driver and told him to take a quick left, then a right. As soon as they were around a corner, he yelled for the cab to stop. Pushing a fifty-euro note into the cabbie’s hand, they jumped out and Josh slammed his hand on the roof of the car.

‘Drive!’ he yelled, pointing down the road. The man didn’t need telling twice, and squealed off, leaving twin rubber burns on the tarmac.

‘In here,’ said Josh, diving through the open door of a hotel to their left. Moving quickly, but casually enough not to draw attention to themselves, they walked through the lobby and followed the sign to ‘La Piscine’.

‘Keep moving,’ panted Josh. ‘They’ll spot we’re not in that taxi any minute.’

Sophie squinted as they stepped out into the bright sun again, shards of light glinting off the blue water of the pool. There were people laying out their towels for sunbathing and the happy noise of children splashing in the shallow end; it seemed so strange, incongruous when they were running for their lives.

‘There,’ she said, spotting a gate at the back of the hotel grounds. Quickly checking that the lane behind it was clear, they ducked through and found themselves in a loading area for a restaurant; the kitchen doors were open at the back and the driver of a delivery van was wheeling a crate inside.

Josh pointed at the rear doors of the van, still open with the ramp down.

‘Come on, inside,’ he said.

The back of the van was piled high with boxes and crates, but there was just enough space to squeeze behind them. Sophie froze as there was a clank, then a thud – and darkness as the driver closed the doors. She held her breath, only relaxing slightly when the diesel engine growled into life and they began to move. As they turned a corner, the boxes began to shift, and Sophie had to grab on to the side of the van, feeling Josh’s knee stabbing into her ribcage.

‘How long do you think we’re going to be stuck in here?’ she whispered.

‘Until he makes his next pit stop, I guess.’

That could be hours, thought Sophie. He could be going to Turkey for all they knew. She could feel the van take a left turn, then a right. It picked up speed, and from the change of gear and the rev of the engine, she could tell that they were going uphill. It was pitch black and hot in the back, and the dust from the floor was tickling her nose, but with every moment she felt a growing sense of relief; they had escaped again – but it had been close, very close.