CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“What shall we do today?” Justin asked at breakfast.
“You heard the nurse, Megan has to rest.”
“I’ll be downstairs.” Philip preferred the reception area where he could get a guaranteed wi-fi signal.
“I’ll go for a walk then,” Justin said.
“Fine.”
He strolled through the narrow streets of Marrakech until he found what he was looking for —
“Hashish!”
The word was hissed at him. His ears pricked up. He stopped and allowed the whisperer to catch up.
“How much?” Justin asked.
Soon he was back on the rooftop. He had an ice-cold litre of water. He had two chocolate bars labeled in Arabic but looking suspiciously like a Mars bar and a Twix. And he had a lump of hash so soft he could roll it into a joint without even heating it up.
The terrace was empty. He sat down w
