I answered the incoming number. “Hello.”
“Mr. Morgan, it’s Conor Roche.”
The moment he announced himself, a question formed in my mind.
“I’ve got bad news,” he said. “Andi Harris has been released. The higher-ups said we don’t have enough cause to hold her. Where are you? Maybe there’s some information you can give me to help us re-arrest her.”
It didn’t sound right. Andi was caught pointing a gun at me. How could they release her? My internal alarm bells were ringing and the question that played on my mind the most was how he’d got my new number. Only four people in the world had it: Justine, Mo-bot, Sci and Andi.
“I’m busy today,” I replied. “Can we stick to our plan? I’ll be at Garda headquarters first thing.”
He hesitated and I could sense him trying to think of a way to press me on the issue.
“It would be helpful if—” he began, but I cut him off.
“I really can’t,” I said. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”
I didn’t give him a chance to reply and hung up.
I immediately video-called Justine and Mo-bot.
“Well?” Mo-bot asked.
“The cops released Andi,” I replied. “Did you give anyone from the Garda my new number?”
Mo-bot shook her head. “Why would I?”
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “I just got a call from Andi’s Garda friend, Conor Roche, on a number he shouldn’t have. He told me he was pressured by higher-ups into releasing her.”
“Sounds off,” Justine remarked.
I nodded. “It confirms our suspicion that we can’t trust the police here. We know Propaganda Tre has compromised law enforcement agencies before and they have almost certainly done it here if Sam Farrell is anything to go by.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Mo-bot asked.
“We can’t wait for them to make a move. I need to leave immediately in case they made the call to locate me,” I replied. “And I need to find out what Propaganda Tre is up to here in Ireland and get conclusive evidence against Lawrence Finch.”
Chapter 77
I left my phone on the bedside table and abandoned the hostel immediately. It was early evening and a light drizzle was falling as I made my way to the parking lot on Trinity Street.
I was taking a risk using a stolen police car, but I could not hire one without a fake ID and if Conor Roche was dirty, there was every chance he wouldn’t report the theft.
I drove through slick streets that reflected the lights of cars and streetlamps beneath ominous clouds. The rain was light but persistent and the dark sky threatened a downpour at any moment.
I went to the George’s Street Arcade, a shopping mall a few blocks away, and bought another phone and some tools that would be necessary for what I was about to do next.
When I returned to the car, I used the new phone to send messages to Sci, Mo-bot and Justine, using my safe phrase so they would know it was me giving them my new number. I received messages back from all of them wishing me luck, and an extra one from Justine who told me she loved me and asked me not to do anything too dangerous.
I hadn’t bothered with new clothes. My black suit would suffice for the work ahead.
I took the BMW on a run out to Ballagh House and parked it behind a copse of trees, so it was well hidden from the road.
With the car concealed, I made my way on foot to the perimeter wall that surrounded the vast estate and went to the nearest security camera as it rotated away from me. I climbed the wall and clambered up the camera post. With the small can of black spray paint I had ready in my pocket, I coated the lens. A blank screen was more likely to result in the dispatch of a maintenance team than to raise a full-scale alarm, but I didn’t care too much either way. I planned to be in and out before anyone could review the last footage and see my hand and the spray can.
I clambered down the post and dropped onto Finch’s property, immediately setting off through the ravine and the woods that stretched toward the house.
As I crept through the trees, I caught glimpses of the palatial home beyond the meadows and lawns. I heard movement some distance ahead and froze. A moment later, I saw a uniformed security guard shine a flashlight into the forest. I ducked behind a tree and pressed myself against the trunk as the light danced around me. After what seemed like an age, it moved on and I resumed my cautious journey to the house.
The paddocks and gardens were the most dangerous sections and involved a few sprints across open ground. My lungs were burning by the time I slowed to a walk on reaching the paved terrace to the rear of the east wing. I crept to the large windows and saw a library illuminated by the gentle glow of night lights, which burnished the gilt tooling on the spines of some of the ancient books. Beyond the shelves, through a double-width doorway, I saw an office with a large partners’ desk covered in papers. On the far side of the desk was a laptop. My target.
I went to some French doors opening into a dining room next to the library. I took a small chisel from my pocket, checked the frame and catch for signs of an alarm and found none. I pushed the implement between the double doors and forced it deep, so I could use it as a lever to snap the lock through the frame.
“I wouldn’t do that. These particular doors are two hundred years old,” Lawrence Finch said, and I turned to find him standing close behind me.
Sam Farrell, Andi Harris and Raymond Chalmont accompanied him along with two bodyguards and Jackson Kyle, Finch’s head of security, plus the uniformed guard I’d seen in the woods.
The guard shone his flashlight in my eyes, dazzling me.
“You’ve reached the end of your race, Mr. Morgan,” Finch said. “And you’re not even going to show in the results.”
He nodded and Jackson Kyle covered me with a pistol while the two bodyguards stepped forward and took my arms.
Chapter 78
They located my new phone and smashed it against the paving before hauling me away from the house, slapping and punching me if they felt I was stepping out of line. They marched me along the broad path that led to the old stables. No one said anything, the two bodyguards just pulled me along, inflicting small cruelties as we followed Finch, Andi and Chalmont. Sam followed me a few paces back and Jackson stalked behind us all, eyeing me closely. The uniformed guard went back to his patrol duties.
They took me to the yard outside Sam Farrell’s quarters and I knew it would be pointless trying to call for help. This was the domain of Finch’s private army and the men and women in the homes around the yard would be more likely to lend a hand in my murder than to try and save me.
“Let’s end this now,” Chalmont said, producing a pistol from inside his jacket and leveling it at me as he approached.
“No,” Finch responded angrily, grabbing him by the shoulder. He yanked the other man back and forced Chalmont to face him. “How dare you? Not here in my home. Not on my land.”
“What does it matter?” Chalmont countered.
Andi and Sam Farrell shrank back, clearly uncomfortable with the conflict between their leaders.
“It matters because I say it matters,” Lawrence Finch replied. “It matters because this is my home. It matters because you have risked everything for a personal vendetta. I would never have sanctioned what you all tried in Los Angeles. And for you to use one of my men as the instrument of your vengeance...” He trailed off and glared at Sam. “I say no.”
“And I say yes,” Chalmont challenged him angrily.
Finch struck him across the face. The slap startled Andi and Sam, but I’d seen the fury building in Finch’s eyes.
“Your anger and incompetence have led Private here,” he said. “You have brought his people into our world and now they represent more of a threat to us than if you’d left Morgan alone. Kill him here and there may come a time when we have to answer for his death to someone we can’t buy, kill or control. Morgan has powerful friends and I don’t want any of them at my door looking for his body.”