“He was wrong.” Rathe lowered his head. “And Morgan was guilty. I knew it, he knew it.”
Mack watched him, his eyes still seemingly disinterested. “Didn’t stop you getting him off.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to be proud of it.”
A slight shrug of the shoulders showed that Mack conceded the point. “I hear you jacked it all in. The court stuff. After the Marsden kid topped himself.”
Rathe bristled. “I’m not here to talk about that.”
Mack pounced, leaning forward across the table with a feral urgency. “Then why are you here?”
“Doing a favour,” Rathe said. “For a friend.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter,” replied Rathe, shaking his head. “Nobody doubts you belong in here, Mack, but somebody thinks you shouldn’t be in here because of Lenny Voss.”
Now there was emotion, but it was a scornful, gutt
