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He blinks, then shakes his head. ‘No, sorry. They made me hand mine in.’
‘Same with me. OK – well, if you hear of anyone who has one …’
‘Right, dude, let’s get this show on the road,’ says Dale, jumping in the passenger seat. ‘We only care about winners in this car.’
I fold my arms across my chest. When they’re gone, my thoughts return to the previous night: not only the pills I found in Emilio’s bag and the bottle of water with the powdery residue but the conversation with Adrienne. My mind has snagged on the snippet she dropped aboutBoones – his vow to provide her with information if she finishes the race.
It reminds me of what Ali had told me in the dunes. That his aunt has been offered funds towards the rebuilding of the village school. Was that a coincidence? Or are the promises somehow part of the make-up of this Ampersand race? What has he said to other runners?
And, even more unlikely, can he keep those promises if they fulfil their end of the bargain? It strikes me as more of a trick. One of his cruel games.
I march towards his trailer. If there are answers, they’ll be there, amidst the mountain of paper. I need to get there before they pack up and move it from the bivouac.
But when I enter, I’ve been beaten to it.
‘Stella! Good morning.’ Boones smiles at me, unfazed by my unplanned arrival.
‘Dad.’ I suck in a deep breath. Might as well ask him outright. ‘I spoke to Adrienne last night.’
‘Oh?’
‘She told me what you promised her at the end of the race.’
‘And what was that?’
‘Don’t play dumb. It’s messed up to make promises you can’t keep. I know the police thought it was random joyriders who hit Ethan. How can you have evidence they don’t have?’
Boones taps the side of his nose. ‘I have my ways. It’s all here.’ He opens a drawer, where there’s a metal box locked with a combination. He spins the code, opens it up and removes a memory stick from a pile, marked with the number ‘13’.
I stiffen. ‘That means nothing. It could be blank for all I know. Give it to me.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he replies, before dropping it back in and closing the lid. There’s a click as it locks.
‘So you’ll tell her? Just like that?’
‘She has to finish first. Them’s the rules.’
I swallow. ‘And Mariam … you promised her a donation?’
He nods.
‘Jesus, Dad. You’ve gone too far. You don’t know what someone will do to finish the race and earn your sick rewards. The lengths they might go to.’
‘That, my dear, is exactly what I’m hoping to find out.’ There’s that damn twinkle in his eye.
I think about the other memory sticks in the box. The other secrets they might hold. Or is he bluffing? There’s a good chance he has nothing at all. ‘What else have you promised?’
‘Have you changed your mind then, about helping me with this race?’
‘What? No. A man died yesterday. One of your elites. Surely that changes things?’
To my surprise the blow registers. He shuts his eyes and presses down on his eyelids like he’s holding back tears. Then he shakes it off. ‘An unfortunate heart issue.’
‘Is that what the doctors in Ouarzazate say? Or this “doctor” Emilio? How well do you know that guy anyway?’
‘He’s been my personal physician for the past two years. I trust him with my life.’
His personal physician? So maybe the sedatives are for him. Pain relief. And now my suspicions have beenproven – Boones has offered incentives to some of the elite runners, adding extra fuel to their fire. Could some of those promises be worth killing for?