CHAPTER THREE

The next night, I gave myself an early mark and headed home from the office at five on the dot. If they weren't going to assign me the work I wanted, I sure as hell wasn't giving them maximum effort. I decided a little me-time was in order.

After taking a long, luxurious bath, I settled on the couch with a bowl of bolognese and a glass of wine, and flicked on the television. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone full couch potato. Even those rare moments when I did find a little spare time, I usually felt like I shouldn't waste it on the likes of commercial television, but there's something to be said for just sitting down and zoning out occasionally.

I channel surfed for a while, flicking from one terrible reality show to the next. Even by my vegging out standards, most of the stuff was truly appalling.

At some point in my wandering I skipped to BBC News.

" —been nearly a week and police still don't know the motive behind the killing, but a source inside British parliament says it could have been politically motivated. "

I froze. There was a picture of a shirtless man on the screen. He looked to be in his sixties, but was still fit, with a broad chest and thick arms that belied the wrinkles on his face. I'd never seen him before, but nonetheless there was one very familiar thing about him. Tattooed on his right bicep was a stylised letter A. The image was grainy and indistinct — it looked like a hasty camera phone holiday snap — but the mark appeared almost identical to the one Sebastian wore.

The shot cut to a police man. " Our initial findings indicate that Mister Reynolds was tortured, possibly for several days, before eventually dying of his injuries. We're working closely with the government in our investigation. "

The program moved on to another story, but I was no longer paying attention. I'd never seen that symbol before meeting Sebastian. If the two of them had shared a different tattoo, a dragon or skull and crossbones or some other generic ink, I wouldn't have thought much of it, but this was a very specific image with very specific typography. It looked to be a different size, and was in a different place on his body, but still, it was a little eerie.

Firing up my laptop, I began looking for more information. The man's name was Christian Reynolds and he'd been the environment secretary of state for the British Government. He'd been a British citizen his whole life and a government employee for thirty years. No one knew for sure why he'd been killed, but based on the extensive torture he'd suffered, it was suspected to have been about information. I couldn't find a better picture of him, but after taking a closer look at the one shot that was circulating, I was fairly convinced that the marking was the same.

It had to be a coincidence. He and Sebastian were worlds apart. Different countries, different careers, different generations. Perhaps it was just a more common symbol than I realised.

I knew the smart thing to do was just forget about it. I'd caused enough trouble already by letting my paranoia get the better of me. What was I going to do? Wander up to Sebastian and say, " Excuse me, but do you happen know this random dead guy from the other side of the world? " It sounded absurd.

But as I flicked the television to another station and tried to focus on My Kitchen Rules, my mind continued to wander. Something about that ornate little symbol bothered me. I just couldn't put my finger on it.