“I would think he understood everything about it the moment he had a good look.”
“Why haven’t you checked it until now?”
“That doesn’t have a simple answer.”
Because I wanted to have Blair to myself. Because I wanted to see what Ben might do. Because I could be wrong and he had betrayed Blair. Because he could be dead and I didn’t know how I or Blair would live with that.
He looks at me. Nods. Puts the pen drive into his computer without asking me about viruses or anything else.
“Why me?” He stares at the screen.
“I don’t have the technology.”
“So how did you get this made.”
“I have a friend. He knows a lot about computer shit.”
“Maybe we have the same friend.”
It takes time. There are encryptions and passwords which I know because I instructed the man how to set it up, giving him the words that I knew would be key to keeping Ben’s secrets safe. And mine.
“Where do you think he is?”
“Here. He won’t have left Blair.” I think back to Majken and her crude attempt at harming Blair and the Stewarts. The car had been filled with explosives, her intention clear and it was suspected that she hadn’t intended to come out alive either way.
No map flashes up. There’s no great big arrow pointed to where Ben’s pocketknife is and I know that he may not be there with it. If he’s alive – and I still think he is – he may have turned traitor; he may have gone elsewhere, away from us.
Or he may be close.
“Here.” Micky scrawls on a piece of paper and hands it to me. Co-ordinates. I have no doubt they won’t be straightforward to unpick until I see them. Three words.
Tree. Yak. Cold.
The man has used a system for identifying co-ordinates that doesn’t rely on numbers. I laugh.
Micky glares.
“Thank you.”
“Wait.” He grabs my arm. “If he’s turned, and you go in there, you might be walking to your own death and you know too fucking much.”
“I’ll go armed.”
His look is questioning.
“I’ll let you know if I think I need assistance.”
“Don’t be a fucking fool, Isaac.”
His words echo in my head as I leave his office, the pocket knife in my hard. The co-ordinates memorised.
Don’t be a fucking fool.
I already was.
Sixteen Years Ago
William sits up in bed and reaches over to take a drink. The man lies next to him, naked, still asleep. It has been an intense night; boundaries have been crossed, even by him. Boundaries he enjoyed crossing.
