Chapters (77)
- Cover
- Discover the series you can’t put down …
- PROLOGUE
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- The Ben Hope series
- Don’t miss Ben Hope’s next adventure
- PROLOGUE
- Chapter 1
- Go back to where it all began, in Ben Hope’s first adventure
- About the Author
- By the same author:
- About the Publisher
The voice on the line was a woman’s. She sounded hesitant and perplexed that a man had picked up the call. ‘This is Françoise Schell. I’m responding to a voicemail message I received two days ago. Is this the right number?’
Françoise. The mystery woman who Romy had said could help her. ‘Romy Juneau called you,’ Ben said. ‘This is her phone.’
‘The name she gave was Jane Dieulafoy. But I figured that was a fake. I get that a lot, in my line of business.’
‘Which is what?’ Ben asked.
‘I’d actually rather speak to … what did you say her name was? Romy Juneau. Is she available?’
As they talked Ben was whipping out his own phone and running a web search on Françoise Schell. He found her right away. She was an investigative reporter and the top search result with her name on it had three lines of metadata that contained the title of an article she’d written. It was called HOW THE ANTIQUITIES TRADE FUNDS TERROR.
And a light bulb lit up inside Ben’s head. He said, ‘Please don’t hang up. This could be very important.’
‘Why would I hang up?’ she asked, sounding as though she was arching an eyebrow.
‘Because you can’t talk to Romy Juneau.’
‘I see. And why is that?’
‘Because she can’t talk to you. She was murdered this morning.’
‘I’m hanging up.’
‘Don’t do that,’ he said. ‘Talk to me instead. You’re the reporter she tried to call. She thought you could help her.’
‘I can’t talk to you if I don’t know who you are.’
‘My name’s Ben Hope. I was Romy’s friend.’
‘As in boyfriend?’ The way she said it sounded jaded and cynical. But then, in Ben’s experience seasoned investigative journalists were generally a jaded and cynical bunch.
‘Just a friend.’
‘She was killed only this morning, but you don’t sound like you’re exactly paralysed with grief.’ Direct, too.
‘I express emotion in other ways,’ he replied. In the middle of talking he clicked open the article Françoise Schell had written and quickly scanned the text. It was from a few months earlier. There was a photo image of her beside the title. It showed a thin-faced woman with long blond hair and intense, intelligent eyes, maybe forty or a little younger.