Forget Me Never

high-street chains.
    And then Aiden nodded, and both men closed their laptops and stood up. They shook hands, and I saw Aiden hand over a memory stick. The formula! The man nodded, dropped it in a pocket on his backpack and closed the zip.
    Realizing they would have to pass me to get to the exit, I scooted across to a table at the far side. Heart thumping, I sat with my back to the exit, trying to look inconspicuous.
    It seemed like an eternity as I waited. When I chanced a glance back, I saw Aiden walking rapidly towards the escalator. The man was heading in the other direction towards the departure gates.
    I had to get that memory stick! I followed the man to the check-in area. He joined a queue for a flight to Chicago. Knowing what I was doing was stupid, but unable to prevent myself, I joined the queue right behind him. He didn’t react, and I dared to hope he hadn’t spotted me back in Pret.
    He’d put the USB stick in the backpack’s side pocket. I was just inches away from it. As I reached out I felt like a million eyes were boring into me. But just as I was about to reach for the zip, the man shrugged the bag off his shoulders and placed it on the floor. He began feeling about in his jacket pockets, presumably for a passport or ticket. Quickly I knelt down, pretending I’d dropped something. One deft movement and the side pocket was open, the USB in my hand. I stuffed it in my pocket and stood up quickly. I could feel my cheeks burning. Forcing myself not to look back at the man, I pushed my way out of the queue, eyes on the exit.
    And then a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
    I froze. A familiar voice said, ‘That was the handover, right?’
    ‘Reece?’ I wheeled around. He was wearing his cricket kit, a half-zipped sports bag slung over one shoulder, his cricket bat sticking out at an angle. He was getting a few funny looks, but I was too relieved to see him to care. He cut me off before I could say anything.
    ‘Don’t ask why I’m here. I don’t even know. Fill me in.’
    I looked over Reece’s shoulder. The man was picking up his backpack – he hadn’t noticed. I grabbed Reece’s arm and hurried him outside. In a few words I explained.
    ‘You nicked the memory stick?!’ Reece looked flabbergasted.
    I nodded, realizing I was trembling. I could hardly believe I’d been so daring – or kept such a cool head. ‘Aiden’s got his money. We need to get out, fast!’
    ‘One sec,’ Reece said. ‘What’s the guy look like?’
    I told him. Reece darted back inside. A moment later he was back, holding his phone.
    ‘Papped a photo of him,’ he said. ‘Might come in useful. Now let’s . . . Sophie, look!’
    Reece pointed. It was Aiden, walking rapidly towards the underground station. I didn’t think – I set off after him.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Reece raise his phone.

REECE
    Mr McIntyre had given me his mobile number in case I’d got lost on the way to his barbecue. I dialled it, praying he’d pick up. Just as I was about to give up, he did.
    ‘Mr McIntyre, it’s Reece,’ I said, not even pausing to say hello. ‘Listen, this’ll sound crazy, but you need to trust me. Aiden and Cherie and maybe some of your other employees are selling your new weight-loss formula to a company called HJP – I think they operate illegally from Brazil.’ McIntyre tried to interrupt, but I carried on talking. ‘I’m at Heathrow Terminal 3 now. Aiden’s handed a guy a memory stick and it’s got to have the formula on it, cos it looks like a crap-load of cash has just gone into Aiden’s bank account.’
    ‘Reece?’ McIntyre said. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
    ‘It’s all true! I’m calling you because you’re the only person who might believe me. Listen, sir, we’ve got the USB. It’s OK. But Aiden’s on the move and the other guy will be out of the country soon.’
    ‘This is all too much,’ McIntyre sounded rattled. ‘First Cherie’s accident – now this . . .’
    Why was he being so slow to understand? I’d say more if I could, but I was scared of letting Sophie and Aiden out of my sight and I was about to head underground into the station.
    ‘That was no accident – she was run over deliberately. Sophie was there and she saw everything. This isn’t a joke! Look, I need to go, and I’m going to lose the signal, but I’m asking – no, begging – you to trust me.’
    ‘What shall I do?’
    ‘Tell the police! Pull this man off the flight for