Next Of Kin (Unnatural Selection #3) by Ann Somerville

from Milton Keynes—from
Andy. I hadn’t been in touch with him for at least a fortnight. I
couldn’t help feeling a little resentful that he had information
that might help me find Nick that he hadn’t shared. That he couldn’t share, of course. I never said
I was rational.
    “Anton, is
there a chance we could meet up?”
    “I’m on
my way into London now, actually. I could be at Islington in about
an hour?”
    “That’d be
perfect.” He named a pub and I noted the details.
    “You don’t
want to just tell me over the phone?”
    “Better not.
I’ll see you soon.”
    I hung up and
frowned. It had to be about Nick, but why be so secretive?
    The pub was
the kind that appealed to lager drinkers and football fans, and was
not one I would have chosen for a quiet drink. Having been out with
Andy and Nick a few times, I wouldn’t have thought it was Andy’s
kind of place either. His wince as he walked in told me I was
right. I waved and he came over to the table I’d managed to
grab.
    “Do you
want a pint?” he yelled over the helium on speed voice of a football commentator on
the pub’s television.
    I pondered the
options. “Glass of orange juice, actually.” The wine was bound to
be as disgusting as the ‘beer’ on tap.
    “I’ll be right
back.”
    I
studied Andy as he queued at the bar. His normal happy-go-lucky air
was missing, but he was nearly as overworked as Nick, and had a
young family to deal with on top of it. Stress was his everyday
reality. I couldn’t tell whether he had good news or bad news for
me. I wished I had told him not to bother with a drink at
all.
    Finally he was
served, and brought the glasses over.
    “Cheers,” I
said. “What’s going on?”
    “This,” he
said, taking a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handing it
over. “You never saw this, I never gave it to you, and there won’t
be more like this.”
    Confused, I
read the print out. It took a few moments to work out what I was
looking out, then I exhaled in shock. “Rio?”
    “Yes. God
knows where he is now. I got that because I ‘forgot’ to turn the
Interpol alert off. I can get away with this once, but I daren’t
risk it again.”
    “I understand.
Thank you.”
    “Put it
away and for God’s sake, don’t flash it around or show that
detective of yours. You can tell him what you know, but not how.
Got it?”
    “Yes. Why? I
mean, why did you ‘forget’?”
    He grimaced at
me and took a pull from his beer. “Because it stinks. This isn’t
Nick. You know it, I know it, but we can’t prove it. I have no idea
what’s going on, but I want to find him too.”
    “What about
the guy he was with?”
    He shook
his head. “No information. I ran a check on him—he hasn’t got a
record, and no one’s looking for him. Don’t ask me his name,” he
added as I opened my mouth to do that. “I can tell you he didn’t go
to Rio with Nick though.”
    “Thanks. Are
you sure it’s Nick using the passport?”
    “No, but it
would have to be someone who looked enough like him to match the
digital image in the passport.”
    “Is that
possible?”
    “Technically. We don’t record fingerprints on British
passports, which would make it harder to get away with it. But the
simplest explanation is that Nick’s in Brazil. Or was five days
ago.”
    “Why?”
    “No idea,
Anton. The whole thing baffles me. Unless he’s gone barking mad, I
can’t make it out. It’s not his style at all.”
    “No. At least
this gives me something to go on with.”
    “I’m sorry I
haven’t been able to give you more. Thing is, I have to be so
careful—”
    “It’s fine. I
understand, honestly. I really do appreciate this and the risk
you’ve taken.”
    He
smiled wryly. “Not much. I wish I could do more. I will do more, if I can. Just ask.
I’d do anything for Nick, but I can’t lose my job. At least, not
unless it’s life or death.”
    “Nick wouldn’t
want that. You have a family to think of.”
    He shrugged,
and