It took a while for Hanna to look in detail through the data, and while she waited, Liza set her phone to record and quietly dictated a summary of the day’s events.

“This is … this is very complete,” Hanna said at last. “It’s not just account details; there’s transactions, dates of payments … This could be big. If it’s real, it could be nuclear for whoever it’s about.”

“And if it’s not real?”

“Then it’s a very elaborate bluff.”

Putting her phone away, Liza came back to sit by Hanna’s side. “Elaborate enough that it’s probably not one?”

Hanna shook her head, but in a confused way, not a no way. “I can’t say. This is all so … like, if she was telling the truth, this is what I’d expect to see, but how much effort would you go through to get away with murder?”

It was a fair question. Although if getting away with murder was Ruby’s plan, surely keeping her head down and being quiet was a better way to do it.

For a moment, Hanna looked back at the data. Then a thought seemed to strike her. “Also, if it is real … this is incredibly fucking dangerous.”

Aaaand there was also that. Liza nodded. “Umm, yes.”

“Fuck.”

Fuck was about the size of it. “We could just throw it away?”

“Maybe, but—” Hanna’s lips were pursed thoughtfully. “What if, and I can’t believe I’m living in the universe where I’m just talking about this casually like it’s just a thing, what if Mr B finds out we were given this and tries to get it from us, and we’ve lost it?”

“Then we say, ‘Sorry, lost it’?”

“And he says, ‘Okay, in that case, can I interest you in today’s special offer on being horribly tortured?’”

Liza shuddered. “Is horribly tortured on the table?”

“You’re the true crime expert, you tell me.”

Ah. Yes. Thinking about it, Liza had studied a lot of this kind of criminal in her time, and being horribly tortured was very much on the table. It was almost the whole table. “Well, fuck.”

“So I think we should keep it,” Hanna said. “Hide it. Don’t make a copy of it. And really, really hope nobody comes looking for it.”

It was a plan.

Okay, it wasn’t a plan, really; it was wishful thinking. But it was what they had to go on.