Sharp Shot by Jack Higgins

into it.
    The good news—maybe the only good news—was that McCain didn’t
know Jade was on to him. She could slip away and find a phone. Or, she
thought, she could try to get close enough to hear what the two men were
saying. Maybe McCain had been telling the truth and was now trying to cut
a deal of some sort…But she didn’t really believe that.
    She would have to go past the bar to get out anyway. Jade made her
decision, and got slowly and carefully to her feet. She looked across to
the bar, and found the pirate waiter who had served her standing there
with another orange juice.
    â€œFree refill,” he said. “It’s Hearty Hour.”
    â€œThanks.” Jade took the orange juice and drank it
straight down. She didn’t know when she’d next get a drink, and the
vitamin C would do her good. She gave the empty glass back to the waiter.
    â€œSorry,” he said quietly. Even his parrot looked sad as
he turned and walked away.
    Jade watched him go, puzzled. But she had enough to worry about
already, so she made her way cautiously towards the bar. She found a spot
out of sight round the prow of the ‘boat’. It wasn’t ideal, but she was
confident that neither of the men could see her, and she could hear odd
snatches of their conversation.
    â€œNot yet,” McCain was saying. “But it won’t be
long. He knows where it is. He put it there.”
    The other man’s voice was quieter and he was facing away. Jade could
hear almost nothing of what he said.
    â€œChance must return soon,” said McCain. Someone laughed
nearby, and Jade missed the rest of what he said. “…Didn’t think
we could force him to tell us,” McCain was saying when the noise
died down again, “but now we have something I expect he wants very
badly. He’ll tell us all right.”
    It sounded like they were hoping to get something from her dad, Jade
thought. McCain had hoped to find him at the cottage. Hoped to ask her
father for something. Now he had a way to force Dad to tell him what he
wanted to know.
    She was feeling suddenly light-headed and woozy. She felt even worse
as she realised that the ‘something’ McCain thought he had to bargain with
was her . It wasdefinitely time to be going, but her legs
weren’t working. In fact, she was having trouble getting up. She grabbed
the nearest thing to force herself off the bar stool. It was a sign
propped up against the bar:
    â€˜Hearty Hour—Free Refills: 6:30-7:30 every nite’
    She felt the last of her energy draining away. It wasn’t Hearty Hour
at all. The orange juice refill wasn’t free—someone had paid for it.
McCain must have seen her when he came in, and guessed she was on to him
when Jade tried to hide in the booth. The waiter had said he was sorry—
and he was sorry because he’d seen what McCain put in the drink. A pill, a
liquid…The waiter was in on it. Probably bribed.
    But that didn’t matter. What did matter was that
Jade had to get out of the bar and find somewhere to hide so she could
sleep off whatever the drug was.
    She tried to put one foot in front of the other. Shuffling along.
Then came the crash of a falling chair.
    Somewhere a hundred miles away a woman was singing A Pirate’s
Life for Me , accompanied by an accordion. Jade almost laughed.
The fat lady was singing, and as the floor rushed towards her she knew it
was all over.
    â€œIt’s all right, no worries. I’ll get her.” McCain’svoice sounded as though it was filtered through soggy cotton wool. Jade
felt his hands on her shoulders, lifting her up.
    â€œShe’s just dead on her feet.”
    Then nothing.

9
    Although few of the people who worked with Hilary Ardman knew it, he’d
been a good field agent once. But that was years ago. Now he was
responsible for a department that didn’t officially exist and that
reported directly to the British