I get comfy on the huge, beige, queen size bed that sits in the centre of this huge bedroom and wait. I also listen, to make sureOwen and Andrews don’t go at it again, but hopefully he’s calm now. Having just fucked the badger out his arse.
“Here.” Owen reappears, passing me the whiskey. “Andrews was asking where the hard drive is. I gotta say Luce, the fewer people who know about it, the better. Can we really trust him?”
“We can.” I nod, taking the drink and resting it on the covers.
“Don’t you dare spill it in the bed,” he chides.
“Jesus, what am I, a child?”
“You used to always leave crumbs in my bed.”
“Yeah, that’s crumbs, not liquid, bozo. Where’s the hard drive?”
“Safe.”
I frown. “You’re not even telling me now? After everything we’ve been through?”
He stares at me, and sighs. Walking over to the single cupboard in the room, he reaches on top of it, pulls it down, and throws it on the bed.
I pick it up and really look at it.
“It’s normal looking.”
“With enough AES encryptions to challenge the world’s best hackers.” He reaches over and turns the slick, black box over in his hands before dropping it back onto the bed.
“Have you seen what’s on it? Like all of it?” I ask one of the many unanswered questions I have, even though the questionwhystill burns on the tip of my tongue.
“Yes,” he replies stoically.
“And…” I probe, but he doesn’t say anything, he just shakes his head.
“There are some things that are better left unsaid. It will all come out, and I don’t want to put you at more risk.”
“Put me at risk? You know what I do for a job, right?” My eyebrow quirks and turns quickly into a frown. He’s still tryingto protect me, even though I’m the one who needs to protect him.
“I know. But still.”
“How can I protect you if you don’t tell me everything?”
“How will knowing what’s on the hard drive enable you to protect me more?”
“Because I will know how bad it is.”
“You don’t need to see what’s on the hard drive to know how bad it is. You have seen how bad it is. They blew up a charity dinner, Luce. They will do anything to stop this getting into the wrong people’s hands. Do you have a plan?” Owen asks, and I take a sip of whiskey. Good question.Do I?
Andrews thinks we can’t hide Owen away, not when he’s trending on most social media platforms and is an active member of parliament.
So maybe going back to Westminster is the best play. His office at the Houses of Parliament will have the best security, especially as they will up the threat level at all government buildings in response to the attack.
Being in the thick of London politics won’t necessarily be a thing, it will however make it harder for me to get access. Double the security, double the security checks. Sure, I could fake some documents, hack into whatever systems do the background checks and make an entry, but some things like time stamps are harder to forge.
“We’ll go back to the Soho safehouse, only we know it exists. We need to act normal; we need to get you back to your wider, grand plan of becoming the next Prime Minister.”
“I never said I wanted to be Prime Minister,” he says, suddenly defensive.
“But you launched an independent party?”
“I did, but that doesn’t mean I want to be PM. I want to make a difference, but I don’t need to be PM to do that. I can’t think of anything worse to be honest.”
