He nodded. I took it as a question. Is this some kind of strategy to finally get me to speak? It was my turn to smile.
“André has messed up my plans for tomorrow, okay?”
“I see.”
Next silent question: Now what, girl? What did you have prepared for me?
The truth was, I hadn’t yet thought of what kind of pseudo-hypnotic science I was going to practice with him to coax out his secrets before the trial, so I didn’t have a decent answer for him. It’s true. Even as André’s assistant, I had no idea whether Julian had truly worked alone or who his clients might have been.
Maybe it was the doubt on my face that softened him. Maybe it was the fact that, for the first time since the first meeting where André introduced us, the security guard was turned away from us.
He mouthed a string of words without making a sound.
“He arrived a few days ago.”
“Who?” I whispered.
His expression relaxed. He turned his head so the security camera trained on us could capture every gesture, and, with an air of boredom, he spoke.
“I’m not revealing anything about my clients, Vera. You know that.”
My clients. Was one of them in prison? Who could it be?
I told myself it didn’t matter. My job wasn’t to uncover criminals, but, in cases like this, to defend them. Would that information help me in my defence before the judge? I shook my head. If it were the case, Julian would have revealed it to me long ago.
“Come on, Julian, give me a break.” I laughed. “If they end up arrested, at least pass them Saidi’s contact, will you?”
He read between the lines.Why did you tell me one of your clients is here? Do you need me—or Saidi—to help them?
He shook his head.
“They don’t deserve you, that’s clear.”
Julian’s eyebrows raised, but I had no idea what he meant. Unless…
“What about André Saidi?” I asked.
Could he be talking about Larousse? It was a long shot. Larousse had been in prison for months now.
Julian held my gaze and then dropped it fast. His eyebrows fell back into place, defeated.
That was not it, either.
“You should go, Vera. I bet you’re going to have a busy weekend ahead of you.”
Chapter 6
That’s all I got from my visit with Julian—that there was someone else in that prison who had been one of his clients, and he didn’t want me to get involved with him. I replayed that conversation over and over as I drove home. The only other inmate I could think of was Timotheo Larousse, and Julian’s reaction told me it wasn’t him.
Let’s get back to Friday, shall we?
I had just found the money. I slid into the car and set the GPS to dodge the worst of the traffic—something I did every morning. It was part of my ritual. (I’d rather takethe long way than sit through a mess of gridlock. Patience isn’t my strong suit.)
I was as calm as someone can be when they must spend a million pounds in three days or risk losing everything, their job, career, and reputation. The bag dug into my shoulder. Each time I moved, the strain tugged at me, the thick stack inside shifting slightly as if reminding me it was there.
As if I could forget.
I tried to focus on the road. But my mind kept looping back to the three rules I’d read in the letter.
