Maybe together they stand a chance of finding her, if they can put aside their differences. I have to suppress a snort.
The very thing they are trying to save causes the rift. Not my circus, not my monkeys. We need the hard drive, Roman needs freedom, and Henry needs to get Saskia back.
A precarious agreement based on people’s individual motivations. As soon as the plan moves each of us away from our end goal, the relationship will fall apart.
Just like these things always do.
People are selfish.
Although you could argue that Owen has the most to lose here; not to mention the country. But neither Henry nor Roman are thinking of that.
“Where are we going?” Owen asks when Henry indicates, taking us a different route.
“We need to regroup,” I answer, knowing that Henry is taking us back to his place.
Owen shakes his head. “I need to be back in Westminster tomorrow. I have commitments.”
“You have the commitment of exposing the truth. That is your priority right now,” Henry says, as he turns into a smaller one-way street in Vauxhall.
“And it is,” Owen replies, “but with no hard drive, I can’t do shit. What I can do, though, is meet Nick, I’ll sort that, but you two focus on getting the damn thing.”
“Any idea how to get Roman out?” I ask.
When this is all over, I’m going to the Maldives to lie on a beach like a potato for a week, and Owen can come with me.
Henry indicates and pulls out a small fob from the console tray in front of the gear stick. He presses a button, and the shutters open between two buildings, displaying a ramp that we now drive down into.
“I need to get into the Crown Prosecution Systems and work out when his hearings start.”
“Hit the transport,” I say, filling in the gaps as Henry pulls into a parking spot and turning to face me. “If you can sort out the itinerary, I’ll take care of the rest.”
51
Lucy - Present
“Goteverythingyouneed?”Owen asks as I strap the knife into my boot, the holster sitting snug against my leg. I zip the boot and stand.
Owen waits by the front door with me in front of Henry’s console table, the circular mirror reflecting our images.
Owen looks shattered, his five o’clock shadow getting longer and longer by the day. I reach out and run my hand over his cheek. “You need to shave.”
“I thought it makes me look kind of rugged,” he says, placing his hand over mine turning his head from side to side, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
I smile.
“Nervous?” he asks.
I pull my hand down and check my own reflection. Pale blue eyes alert and ready for what comes next.
“For the interception? No,” I reply. “For what you’re about to do, yes,” I admit.
“You know if you don’t get the hard drive, this is all for nothing, right?”
My eyes meet his in the reflection, and I nod before grabbing the gun from the table and sliding it into my holster.
Owen leans to the coat hook and grabs me my black jacket, holding it up for me to slip into it.
“Always the gentleman,” I say, smiling.
