Chapter 50
Lucy - Present
Okay, so it turns out 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 green eyes. “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.
As I’m about to stand and go and talk to the mirrored glass to ask just that thing, the door opens, and in walks Roman Rook.
I don’t know what I was expecting, an orange jumpsuit, a blue one. Hell, anything other than him walking in wearing jeans and a hoodie.
It’s not like Roman to be in anything other than a suit, so seeing him so casual is still a shock. His hair is longer, he’s sporting a slight bruise along his left cheekbone, but he’s still the intelligent and ruthless man that Luca Knight has had at his side since childhood.
As soon as his eyes drop to me and Henry who both sit behind a table, he pauses.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
The guard pushes him forward. “Move it.” His voice is gruff as he escorts him to the chair opposite us.
Roman sits down, holding up his handcuffed hands to be chained to the table.
The guard checks the chain, the sound of metal clinking against the aluminium table. Once content, he leaves, and Roman sits back and crosses his arms.
“Is it true?” Henry asks, getting straight to the point. “She’s alive?”
Roman doesn’t say anything. He looks between us, assessing, like he always does.
“You’ve fucked up the hard drive,” he says, meeting my eyes. “Why else would you be here?”
“I asked you a question,” Henry says through gritted teeth.
“And you think I’d tell you?” Roman snaps. “You’re the reason she was almost killed in the first place.”
“Fuck off!” Henry spits, his fist tensing into a ball before he smacks the table with it, the thud loud in the suffocating silence.
What the fuck am I witnessing here? I watch the pair of them, muscles flexing, breathing heavy, testosterone thick in the air along with a whole heap of animosity and anger.
“You know that’s bullshit. She was as stubborn as you. She knew what she was walking into, and you should have protected her.”
“From you?” Roman snaps.
“From our world, you piece of shit. Blood pays with blood. You knew the rules and risks, but still, you let her get involved. And you now, what? Want to blame me? I was there, Roman; I held her in my arms whilst she bled the fuck out. And now Kara tells me she’s alive, and you betrayed us all?”
Roman doesn’t say anything. Instead, his face flashes with sadness as he looks down at his handcuffed hands, pulling against the chains.
Silence stretches between the pair of them, the tension rolling off Henry in thick, suffocating waves.
“She’s alive,” Roman finally says, looking up and meeting Henry’s eyes. I am but a bystander, watching years of pain tumble out.
Henry sags into his chair, his head going into his hands and huffs out a breath, elbows on the table. He runs his hands down his face and looks up at Roman with such pain and anguish in his expression that a pang of sadness cracks through me.
“You’ve seen the evidence?” Henry asks, his voice cracking before he clears his throat.
“I have.”
“What was it?”
“To begin with pictures, then a video call. John, he would show me the evidence weekly to keep me onside.” Roman stares at Henry, shaking his head. “What was I supposed to do, man?”
“You should have come to us! Come to me!”
“Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” Roman says. “What the fuck use is hindsight now? Any hope I had went as soon as Luca set me up.”
“It’s the least you deserved. You’re lucky you didn’t get a bullet in your forehead,” I say.
“I’d have preferred it,” Roman says. “You think I betrayed them because I had a choice—”
“You always have a choice,” I reply.
“Not when someone you love is at risk. Not when someone who you love more than anything in the whole fucking world, who you mourned, whose death almost destroyed you and your family. Not when you find out they are still alive and are being treated like a fucking dog. Locked up in a cage, and being held over you. When that happens to you, please Kara, please come back and sit there and tell me you would have done anything differently than what I have. What if it was Owen? What if someone took him, beat him, locked him up, and used that love against you.”
I go to reply, but what can I say? Because what if something happened to Owen? Who am I to judge his actions?
“See, you can’t. So don’t come here and fucking judge me.” He points his finger at each of us. “Either of you. Because Henry, I know you’d have done the same fucking thing.”
“We haven’t got time for this,” I say, interrupting Henry before he can reply. “We haven’t come here to talk about Saskia; we’ve come here because we’re fucked.”
Roman laughs once, humourless. “You’re fucked?” he asks, shaking his head. “I’m remanded in custody until my trial in seven months. Where I will probably be sentenced to life in prison. Please, tell me how you’re more fucked?”
“You’re right. The hard drive’s fucked.”
Roman leans back and folds his arms over his huge chest. The tips of tattoos peek out from under the sleeve of his hoodie and neck.
“So, why are you here?”
“Because,” Henry says, leaning forward, “I know you. And if you were going behind all our backs, you will have safeguarded things along the way. Things that you could use as leverage at a later date against John and the rest of the Covenant members. How you managed to even get a copy of the thing as quickly as you did intrigues me—”
“Always be prepared,” I say.
Roman looks between us and smirks. “I can tell you exactly where the copy of the hard drive is, just as soon as you get me out of here.”
“How’d it go?” Owen asks as we both slide back into the black SUV that Owen has been sitting in for the last thirty minutes.
“Like a shart,” Henry replies, turning the ignition before smacking the steering wheel in annoyance.
I lean forward between the seats, Owen in the passenger seat, Henry driving.
Owen glances at Henry and catches my eye.
“He has a copy. That reaction is to do with something entirely different,” I say, explaining Henry’s outburst.
“But—”
I hide my smirk, always a but. He’s learning.
“But he wants to get out of prison first.”
Owen blows out a breath and leans back in the chair, as Henry pulls his shit together and drives out the prison car park on a wheel spin.
“I can’t help with that,” Owen says, looking out the window as the car picks up speed on a dual carriage way taking us back to central London.
“You don’t need to,” Henry says, glancing across at us as our eyes meet in the rear-view mirror. I know what he’s saying. We’ll work together on this.
I nod at the unspoken agreement.
“Why help us, though?” I ask the question I already know the answer to. Saskia.
“Because sometimes doing the right thing means doing the wrong thing,” Henry answers.
The car falls silent, all of us working through the problem.
Owen thinking about what to do after we get hold of the hard drive.
Henry thinking about Saskia and finding her.
I’m not na?ve to think that this is about being part of the greater good.
Henry Bishop is very much Luca Knight’s man.
He’ll be working his angle, just like Luca would have taught him to do.
Saskia is Henry’s end game. And Roman’s.
The hard drive is just part of the problem they are currently working on, and the thing that will help them get to their end game.
Roman can’t do anything from a prison cell, and Henry needs Roman to tell him everything he knows.
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.”