Page 106 of Everything That Kills Me
“In here?”
“Club upstairs.”
“Who’s your boss?” Though he knew.
The guy gestured and Jack saw Al-Shuaibi smiling at him.
“He make it worth your while,” the man whispered.
Yes, he will.Jack walked forward with his hand out.
The minder followed him. “English,” he said to his boss.
“And speaks perfect French.” Al-Shuaibi shook Jack’s hand longer than was appropriate, but Jack didn’t pull away.
“My French teacher would be pleased to hear that,” Jack said.
Al-Shuaibi chuckled, and beckoned for Jack to follow him. A big guy stood at the bottom of a flight of stairs and Jack guessed access was only allowed to a chosen few.
It was quieter upstairs. Jack and Al-Shuaibi sat on their own, the minders within view but not within hearing. Soft music was being piped through speakers. Jack was surprised they’d not searched him.
“You’re a good player,” Al-Shuaibi said.
“Thank you.”
“Your seat did not bring me luck.”
Jack winced. “Sorry. Maybe you need a lesson. I’m pretty good.” There was the bait.
“Maybe I do. Are you in Cannes on your own?”
“Yes. Clearly, you’re not.” Jack nodded towards the two guys. Where were the other two? Maybe they’d stayed on the yacht.
Al-Shuaibi laughed. “That’s true. What brings you here?”
“I’m on holiday. I like gambling. Winning makes me…excited.”
A waiter appeared at the table.
“What would you like to drink?” Al-Shuaibi asked.
“Lorina, please.”
Al-Shuaibi frowned. “What’s that?”
“Lemonade.”
“Lorina and a Jack Daniels,” Al-Shuaibi ordered, then turned to Jack. “You don’t drink? How old are you?”
“Twenty. I’m not a big drinker.” Pointless lying. Jack was pretty sure they’d have found a way to access the scan of his passport. In any case, Al-Shuaibi was hooked.
“Do you work?” the guy asked.
“I start my last year at Cambridge in October. I’m studying history. Do you work?” He smiled.
“Businessman.”
The drinks arrived and Jack drank his quickly.
