“She’s alive. According to John.”
“Are you fucking with me?” Henry asks, dropping his hands. “I mean it, Kara, there is no way Saskia is alive. No fucking way.” He shakes his head, his leg bouncing up and down on the tall turquoise stall.
“Luca told me. He was cut up, man.”
“Have you seen evidence of it? Did you look into it?”
I shrug. “Not my circus, not my monkeys. Besides, you know I don’t make the habit of getting involved in other people’s dramas.”
Henry looks at Owen. “What’s this then?”
“This,” I say, pointing between myself and Owen, “is none of your business.”
“You’re making it my business by reaching out,” Henry spits. “So, we have what? John fucking Weston’s words to go on, that’s it?”
“Roman must have seen the evidence. Otherwise, why would he betray you?” Owen asks.
“Well, we need to go see Roman,” Henry says, standing.
“I thought you said he was incarcerated?”
“He is, but that doesn’t stop us from having a conversation.” Henry reaches for his drink and downs the Kombucha. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” Owen exclaims, standing with him. “We can’t. I can’t just waltz into a prison.”
“I don’t care what you can and can’t do. I’m going to have a conversation with Roman fucking Rook. Who knows? If he betrayed Luca, maybe he also took a fucking copy. Don’t you want to find out?”
I glance to Owen, who looks to me. I shrug. “Your call, Boss Man.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
50
Lucy - Present
Okay,soitturnsout when you’re remanded in custody for a crime like Roman Rook was being charged for, you can’t walk into the prison and expect to be allowed to see him.
It does however help when Owen has contacts in Ministry of Justice and the Crown Prosecution Service, who has not only managed to get us in, but has managed to make it as private as these visits can be.
So, we’re in a private room, with a guard on the door.
A camera light flickers in the corner, but Henry has told us not to worry about it. Something tells me that whatever he has just done on his phone will prevent anything from being overheard.
“For the record,” Henry says, “I’m still sceptical.”
“About which part?” I ask, leaning back in the chair, picking at a piece of dirt under my nail.
“Him being the mole.”
I shrug and look at my other hand. “I don’t really care what you think to be honest, Henry,” I say, finally meeting his greeneyes. “What I care about is trying to get whatever is on that hard drive to the right people so that Owen is safe.”
“I never pegged you for someone who had a heart.”
“And it’s bleeding right now with the insults and petty remarks,” I say, holding onto my chest dramatically. “Where is he?”
I check my watch.
Owen’s waiting in the car, not wanting to be picked up by a few paparazzi who are milling about outside.
