Chapter 51
Singapore
Hadrian Lester left the elevator and walked unsteadily into the SKAI Bar. His hand throbbed beyond imagination. One eye was swollen shut. He suspected his nose was bleeding…who else’s blood could it be on his shirt?…and his ribs ached horribly.
It was over.
The words caromed around the inside of his battered skull like spiked pinballs.
Over…over…over.
The reporter had the files…a million of them, good God…Shaka was in custody. And Riske…whoever he was…the man was relentless.
It was over. At least for Hadrian. He imagined the press, the harassment, the trials, the sheer pain of all that was to come. All of it would come out. Every sordid detail. There were too many people involved. One person would talk, then the next, then it would be a mad race to see who could save their skin first, who could cut the best deal, who could get the least prison time. But there would be no deal for him. Not for the man at the top. For the man at the top there was only the guillotine.
Luca, of course, was insulated from the whole thing. Neither Riske nor the reporter, Li, would find his name anywhere. Not on an account, an email, a text, nowhere. He gave the orders. Hadrian followed them.
Luca could take care of Riske. Of that, Hadrian was certain.
“Christ, man, what’s happened to you?” It was Sir Ian, eyeing him not with sympathy but alarm. Can’t have the vice chairman wandering in here looking like this. It doesn’t do. What would they think in Edinburgh…or Glasgow…or wherever the fuck Sir Ian was from?
Hadrian kept walking, the sky a shade of indigo, clouds lounging beneath the stars. On the equator, darkness came in a hurry. By now, his presence had been noted and commented upon, word spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Heads turned. Conversations stopped dead.
“Hadrian, what is it? What has happened?” Beatrice hugged his side, trying to lead him away. He rebuffed her.
“Not now, darling. Just one thing I have to do.” He smiled.
“But…your face. Who hit you? Hadrian! Please. Talk to me. Darling.”
“Please.” Italians. So emotional. Actually, it was one of the things he loved most about her.
He pressed on, steadying himself against the bar, aware of all eyes on him. Drawing a breath, he continued past the seating area. If he looked carefully, far out on the horizon, past where the planes were taking off and landing, he could see Changi.
He squinted and it came into view. All of it. The prison walls. The barbed wire. The rats with their long, sharp teeth.
Never.
With a nimbleness he didn’t know he possessed, he placed one hand on the rail, a foot on the bench next to it, and vaulted over the wall seventy stories and nine hundred feet above the earth.
Never.
Chapter 52
Singapore
Borgia,” said Simon. “Luca Borgia. That’s who we’re after.”
“I can tell you all about Borgia. I interviewed him five years ago.”
“Wait, you know him?”
“As well as I know any of my subjects. He’s one of Italy’s wealthiest men. The Borgia family has holdings in industrial concerns all over the country—the world, really. They’re worth billions.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“They’re quiet, Simon. The epitome of old money. They like to control things from the shadows. He’s the principal landowner in the region of Umbria. We’re talking tens of thousands of acres. He lives in a castle there. It’s called the Castello dell’Aquila.”
“Did you say ‘aquila’? As in ‘eagle’?”
