Sam offered him a rare smile.
‘That’s what I do.’
‘Okay then. Getting the transfer there won’t be difficult. Forging documents is child’s play.’
Etheridge limped back towards his chair, dropping into the fine leather and taking the pressure off his damaged knee.
‘You know, you would make one hell of a criminal.’
‘We are criminals, Sam.’ Etheridge chuckled. ‘Now you need to get going if you’re going to do this.’
Sam nodded firmly, threw his arms through the sleeves of his jacket again and headed for the door. Before he left, he turned to Etheridge.
‘And once I get you that location, then what?’
Etheridge offered him a concerned look.
‘I’ll do my best to get you out.’
* * *
Singh listened, open-mouthed as Etheridge concluded his story. Processing their elaborate plan had sent her mind into a spiral and she wasn’t sure how she felt. There were several emotions all vying for dominance.
The confusion that such a plan could be hatched.
Relief that she knew where Sam was and for all intents and purposes, was alive and well.
The outrage that Etheridge and Sam had infiltrated a government prison and the number of laws they’d broken to do it.
Etheridge sat quietly, looking up at the whiteboard that was still covered with the information he’d present to Sam. When putting the information together, he did so with a heavy heart, knowing that despite his genius intellect, he wouldn’t be the one putting his body on the line. To bring down Chapman’s empire, Sam would need to willingly walk into hell and keep himself alive.
Judging from the fierce scowl on Singh’s face, she felt similar.
‘This is wrong.’ Singh finally spat. ‘You should be locked up for this, you know that?’
‘I do.’
‘You forged the signature of the fucking Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police. You’ve hacked into a maximum-security prison. Jesus, Paul. What were you thinking?’
‘The same things you were,’ Etheridge snapped back. ‘You could have arrested Sam when he met you at Liverpool Street Station, but you didn’t. Because you feel the same damn way I do. Hell, the same way Pearce felt as well.’
Singh shook her head, her tongue pressed against her lip.
‘And what’s that then?’
‘You believe what Sam does is necessary.’
The words hit Singh like a dart and she knew she couldn’t argue. She turned in disgust, more at herself for her agreement. Sam was necessary. At least once a day she scolded herself for how she dismissed Aaron Hill when he first came to her, begging for help in the hopeless search for his daughter. If she’d put as much effort into finding Jasmine as she had into finding Sam, maybe she would have brought her home too.
But it was unlikely.
Sam was willing to do what the police weren’t.
He was willing to go to war.
Singh stood, picked up her beer, and devoured half of it in one mouthful. Etheridge pulled himself to his feet, too, steadied himself and then walked over to the fridge beneath his desk. As he opened another drink, he looked at Singh and offered her an apologetic smile.
‘Sam was willing to trade himself for your life. Either that or willing to go to jail. He knows that one day everything he’s done will come back on him. I know it, too. But right now, this country needs Sam out on the streets, fighting back against the people the police don’t go near. You might not like it, Singh. But Sam is as necessary as the goddamn badge you have in your pocket.’
Singh sipped her beer, shaking her head. A tear had begun to form in her eye, and she wiped it with the sleeve of her hoody. Staring at the bottle, she spoke.
‘I’ve always prided myself on never being afraid.’ She chuckled to herself. ‘I fought back against an oppressive system to become one of its best detectives. I did a lot of good but when I had the chance to bring Sam in, it was my meal ticket. Hell, I remember how much I hated him when he handcuffed me to your goddamn patio door. But the farther along we chased, the farther down the rabbit hole I went, I saw the truth and that was what scared me. For the first time, in a long time, I was actually afraid.’
‘That you would die?’ Etheridge asked, taking a step towards her.
‘No. That Sam would.’
Like a supportive parent, Etheridge reached out and gently patted her shoulder. Although his marriage had dissolved not long after Sam had engaged in a shootout in his house, Etheridge was still a hopeless romantic at heart. He wasn’t blind to the blossoming feelings between Singh and Sam and he felt sorrow for how cruelly fate had led them together.
There was no chance of happiness for them.
They both knew it.
But Singh’s anger at their plan hadn’t been rooted in a firm stance against breaking the law. It was out of her genuine fear for Sam and his survival in a locked down building swarming with men who would want him dead. All Etheridge could do was reassure her that they had it under control.
‘Look, I know you care about Sam. We both know that if anyone can survive this, he can. The man is immortal.’ Singh smiled and Etheridge continued, ‘The second I get the go ahead from him, I’ll be at that computer, guiding him out. Okay?’
Singh nodded, but then furrowed her brow in confusion.
‘The go ahead? Hasn’t he already sent you the location?’
‘Yup. But you know Sam…he has a certain finality with how he operates.’
Singh screwed her face, battling the morality of Sam’s actions. Although he was targeting dangerous criminals, she could never condone the idea of him killing. They had already shut down Chapman’s operation, meaning he would spend the rest of his life in his cell, knowing his stranglehold of power had been lifted.
But Sam wouldn’t think about
