{"id":254462,"date":"2026-07-13T03:33:38","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T00:33:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/blind-pursuit-rob-sinclair\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T03:33:38","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T00:33:38","slug":"blind-pursuit-rob-sinclair","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/blind-pursuit-rob-sinclair\/","title":{"rendered":"Blind Pursuit – Rob Sinclair"},"content":{"rendered":"
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But my biggest issue is correctly identifying the order. The bigger the number, the harder it gets.\u2019 Probably more explanation than was needed in this case, but Aaron had asked. \u2018When I plugged it into the satnav, I read out the name of the shop to the voice prompt. Not the address,\u2019 Callum added. \u2018It says 480,\u2019 Aaron said, staring at the picture on the phone screen. \u2018Yeah. I thought so too,\u2019 Callum responded and they both looked out to the art shop again and the plaque on the wall by the door with the three digits.<\/p>\n

\u2018400,\u2019 Aaron said. \u2018The shop is at 400, not 480.\u2019 \u2018On the sticker it\u2019s written over. She turned the zero into an eight.\u2019 \u2018So what\u2019s at 480?\u2019 Both of them turned the other way, following the same thought process at the same time. A rare brotherly connection? \u2018Must be the other side of the crossroads,\u2019 Callum said. Aaron was already releasing the handbrake as he\u2019d said it. They headed across the lights and he pulled into the car park of the bank. \u2018480,\u2019 he said, nodding to the sign.<\/p>\n

\u2018You really think she planned this for you?\u2019 \u2018I\u2019ll soon find out. Wait here. Call me if you see anything suspicious.\u2019 Callum went to get out but then paused. Thought. Opened the picture again. \u2018Just read out those numbers for me one more time?\u2019 By which he meant the pencilled numbers right underneath the sticker. They looked like maybe they were the order number from the art store or something. Callum hoped it was something else altogether. Fourteen digits. \u2018Got it,\u2019 he said after Aaron had finished. He couldn\u2019t read for shit, but his memory was damn good.<\/p>\n

He headed out and into the bank. Not a national chain \u2013 in fact, he\u2019d never heard of South-West First Bank. The stone building had an old-world appearance to it, with a lofty although cool-feeling interior, marble \u2013 or at least marble-effect \u2013 floor and gold embellishments here and there. A smartly dressed attendant smiled at Callum as he entered. \u2018Good morning, sir,\u2019 he said. \u2018Anything I can help you with?\u2019 \u2018Just come for my, erm\u2026<\/p>\n

safe-deposit box?\u2019 Callum answered, trying his best to sound assured and calm. There was only a narrow choice of options for why Lea would send him here. A secret account with money in it? Possibly, but what would be the point and why the little clues from Lea leading to it? Money wasn\u2019t going to help him. Much more likely that she was taking him to information of some sort. Information would much more likely be in physical form, one way or another.<\/p>\n

So safe-deposit box was his guess. \u2018Certainly, sir,\u2019 the man said. \u2018If you go to my colleague over there, she\u2019ll assist you.\u2019<\/p>\n

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Given the choice, Lea would have dressed more for the weather. The heat had risen steadily over the morning, hitting over ninety degrees in the shade by midday and a hell of a lot more in the fierce sunshine. Which was exactly where she found herself at the cafe table, waiting.<\/p>\n

Her jeans felt heavy, sticking to her clammy legs. Sweat rolled down her spine, the wet patches on her T-shirt at least hidden from the people around her by the jacket she still wore. Although keeping her dignity wasn\u2019t the only reason she\u2019d leave the jacket on. She again wiped her brow with a napkin, then checked her watch. Nearly twelve-thirty. She\u2019d originally arrived in the area before 7 a.m., which was one of the reasons for her heftier than needed clothing, as she\u2019d expected to be finished and at the train station for eight, out of the country on an air-conditioned carriage before now.<\/p>\n

Yet here she still was, waiting. She picked her phone up from the table and called Denis. Again. \u2018Still no sign?\u2019 she asked. \u2018No. But I\u2019m sure he\u2019s near.\u2019 \u2018I\u2019ve been sitting here for more than an hour,\u2019 she said, briefly glancing around the other half-dozen tables outside, four of which were taken. No one paid her any attention, but it\u2019d still been too long sitting here, out in the open.<\/p>\n

\u2018Five more minutes and I\u2019m moving somewhere else.\u2019 \u2018Please, don\u2019t. Wait there. It\u2019s where he\u2019s headed. We\u2019ve already changed the location three times, we\u2060\u2014\u2019 \u2018Because he\u2019s several hours late.\u2019 \u2018He\u2019ll be there soon. Hold out.\u2019 Easy for him to say; he\u2019d been sitting in the cool of his car, air-con probably blasting the whole time. He ended the call before she could say anything more. She wiped her brow again, called the young waitress over and paid cash for the two sparkling waters she\u2019d had. The woman gave her an apologetic look, perhaps noting her hot and flustered demeanour.<\/p>\n

Perhaps the youngster thought she\u2019d been stood up by a date or something. The waitress glanced curiously \u2013 suspiciously \u2013 to the helmet on the table for a second before wandering off.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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