“You could get a meeting with him?” Steve suggests. “As the world’s second biggest author?”
Steve had caught Rosie putting her books in front of Lee Child’s at the WHSmith in the airport.
“Maybe,” says Rosie. “Usually when a celebrity meets another celebrity they only ever talk about Tom Cruise, or how much tax they paid last year. But perhaps I could pitch him an idea?”
Steve nods, and Rosie takes out her phone. Steve looks out of the window. Where are they flying over? Bulgaria perhaps? If you fly over somewhere, can you say you’ve been there? That would be handy. Think of the places he’ll have been then?
“Are you still worried that Eddie Flood is trying to kill you?”
Rosie shrugs but unconvincingly. “Certainly, if he turns up in Dubai, we’ll know it’s trouble. Or if Vasiliy Karpin puts in an appearance.”
“Well,” says Steve, “I honestly hope no one kills you.”
“That means a lot, Stevie, thank you,” says Rosie. “That’s the closest you’ve ever come to flirting with me.”
“Did you enjoy the quiz?” Steve asks.
“The quiz?” says Rosie. “God no.”
“Only, I saw you laughing quite a lot,” says Steve.
“I’m on painkiller medication.”
Steve smiles. “There’s always a place on the team for you.”
“I don’t do pub quizzes, Stevie,” says Rosie. “I live on a private island.”
“By yourself,” says Steve.
“Yes, that’s what makes it private,” says Rosie.
“You don’t get lonely?”
“Says the man whose best friend is a cat.”
They both laugh. Steve looks down at the map on the flight computer. They are now over Armenia. That’s another country ticked off the list. Armenia? Yep, been there. Very hilly.
“I’m not lonely,” says Rosie. “That’s not the word. There are just fewer people around nowadays. Fewer friends.”
“People die,” says Steve.
“And a lot more people die when you get to my age,” says Rosie.
“Remind me what age that is again?” asks Steve.
“Thirty years younger than my first husband,” says Rosie. “And thirty years older than my next husband.”
“There are still plenty of people out there,” says Steve. “Plenty of friends. If you want them.”
“But they’ll die too,” says Rosie. “Won’t they? Everybody dies.”
“That’s the spirit,” says Steve.
“Urghh, ignore me,” says Rosie. “A bit of me thinks if Vasiliy Karpin did kill me, would that be such a bad thing?”
“I said the same to Debbie the other day,” says Steve. “About me dying, not you dying.”
“Would Debbie have liked me?” Rosie asks.
“She’d have loved you,” says Steve. “And you’d have loved her. She was more fun than me.”
“I do want to catch Loubet,” says Rosie. “But I’ll be sad when this is all over. What do you think Amy and Jeff will get up to?”
“Go through all the records back in London,” says Steve. “See when Max started to get involved. Find any clues to Loubet’s identity.”
“And we trust Jeff?” Rosie asks.
“Why wouldn’t we?” says Steve. “Unless you think he’s been sending the Loubet emails to himself?”
Rosie goes back to her phone. Steve tries to get comfortable. Tony Taylor used to send emails to himself, as part of an elaborate tax fraud. Too elaborate for Tony, anyway, that’s why he’s not allowed to do MOTs anymore. Steve looks over at Rosie again. Are they friends now? Will they stay in touch after all this? Always assuming they’re both still alive? Steve has a thought.
“This might be crazy,” says Steve, “but are we certain that Max Highfield isn’t François Loubet himself?”
“I’m not sure he has the brains,” says Rosie. “I saw an interview with him in Vanity Fair in which he hadn’t heard of Ukraine.”
“Perhaps he’s street smart,” says Steve.
“He also thought Princess Diana was fictional,” says Rosie.
