‘This is about my brother.’
‘It is, indeed. The guy you think called you.’
‘He did call me.’
‘Impossible. Conor’s dead. You know that.’
His voice was edged with humour. She couldn’t read him at all.
‘Why are you interested in Conor?’
‘You mean with all those skills as a hacker?’
‘You think my brother brought the plane down?’
‘Now that really would upset your parents, wouldn’t it? After everything they’ve already gone through.’
‘I told you to leave my parents out of this,’ she snapped. ‘Conor had nothing to do with it.’
‘We never truly know the people close to us, Kaitlin. There’s a life lesson for you. Take it or leave it.’ Grady tossed the file back on the table. ‘However, you know more about Conor than most. That little secret life he had going on.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘OK.’ Grady pulled out his phone, swiped through the apps, then opened one.
To her astonishment, it was her own voice rolling out of the speaker, taking her back to that awful night
‘Do you know who these people even are?’
‘What business is it of yours?’
That was Conor.
She felt a rush of shock. That was when he’d dropped round to her place, basking in the glory of cracking the bank hack. Why had the CIA been spying on her back then, long before Flight 702 disappeared?
She was yelling, her phone distorting through the phone’s speaker.
‘You always do this! You just soak up all the admiration and assume it’s deserved. That you’re always right, that every choice you make is OK. You never stop to question things.’
‘You don’t get a say in this any more, Kait. It’s my life, it’s my job,’
‘Who are you even working for! I’m worried about you!’
‘For God’s sake, I’m not a kid! This kind of thing is exactly why I moved out.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Kaitlin remembered the hurt she’d felt at that moment.
‘I don’t need this kind of scrutiny.’
At the time, he’d rolled his eyes like a teenager.
‘No, you do. I know you, Conor. You just don’t want anyone around who can tell when you’re doing something wrong.’
‘I’m not doing anything wrong. It’s a broken system – I’m just trying to fix it.’
‘And the people you work for? Are you sure that’s what they’re doing?’
‘Leave me alone, Kait. Just get off my back.’
She heard the sound of a door slamming and in that instant, she was back there, remembering her anger, knowing with the benefit of hindsight that it would soon fade into guilt and regret.
Grady clicked off the recording.
‘You were right to be worried about what your brother was involved in. Is it surprising that other people were worried, too?’
‘How did you get this recording?’ Kaitlin caught herself. ‘You were monitoring him because of his hacking activity.’
‘Correctomundo.’
‘Did you have him under observation, right up to … right up to Flight 702?’
‘Of course not. He was in the UK. Not our jurisdiction. What did you think he was doing?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You were that upset over “I don’t know”?’
‘I just thought he had some unreliable friends.’
‘If you’re aware of criminal activity and you don’t report it, that makes you an accomplice. You know that, right?’
Kaitlin didn’t answer.
‘You should talk to me, you know.’
‘I have no reason to talk to you.’
‘What about your parents?’
‘I told you—’
‘They’re happy in Kansas, aren’t they. Settled?’ Grady pushed himself up and sauntered across the room. ‘I understand there might be some problems with their immigration status.’
‘They’ve been here since 1986. They have green cards. They’re not illegal.’
He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. ‘Yeah. There’s so much paperwork involved in immigration. So easy to make a mistake. And if someone spots a mistake now, the wrong box ticked, maybe, or a spelling error, then we’d have no choice but to get our buddies at immigration to follow up. Maybe Homeland Security, too.’
‘You’re threatening to kick out legal immigrants?’ Half of her was simmering with rage at this threat, the other half was terrified.
‘The last administration was concerned about how easy it is to enter this country illegally. We’re a bit behind the times here, still operating on old ways of behaviour, you get me? We’re trying to be a bit more diligent from here on out in making sure everyone is here legally. That’s all.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Of course, if we were confident that you and your family were loyal to the United States, we wouldn’t have any reason to look into your paperwork at all. Would we? So, why was Conor on that flight?’
Kaitlin clenched her teeth. ‘I don’t know.’
‘That’s your final word on the matter?’
‘I don’t have any other words. I just don’t know.’
Grady studied her. After a moment, he nodded. ‘OK. Seems to me you know now what’s at stake. So, let’s set you back on your way.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Like you said, you don’t have any other words. But I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Or rather, I’ll see you.’
Kaitlin raced through the night. She still had no idea where she was going, but now she was truly scared witless for the first time since she’d started her investigation. She pressed her burner tight to her ear as she ran.
‘You want to come here?’ Rory was saying.
‘No. God, no. I’ve got to disappear. They threatened to deport my parents, Rory.’
‘They can’t do that. There’s no legal basis for deporting immigrants who haven’t committed a felony.’
‘If you believe they’ll stick to the rules, you’ve not been paying attention.’
‘What did they want?’
‘They were asking me about Conor.’
‘I know this doesn’t help right now, but at least now we know for sure that we’re on the right track. If the CIA are going to these lengths—’
‘You’re right, it doesn’t help. Rory, they told me you were involved in hiding some information about problems with an airline’s planes that cost lives.’
A long silence. So, it was true.
Kaitlin felt sick.
‘We need to have a conversation,’ he began.
‘I can’t believe you hid that from me!’
‘I’ve got my flaws, Kaitlin. I’m not going to try to hide that. I’ve not been a good guy. I’ve let my family down, let myself down. But I’m trying to do the right thing here, believe me.’
‘I don’t know if I can trust you, Rory. Look, I’ve got to go.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘If we need to speak again, I’ll be in touch.’
She hung up.
21
Kaitlin scrambled out of the dumpster at the back of the convenience store in the dark of the night. Her breath clouded in the cold air as she choked on the reek of rotting food. Her prize for rooting through the refuse for fifteen minutes: one still-wrapped burrito. Her stomach was growling so hard it could have been a feast from the best restaurant in Manhattan.
‘Hey! Who’s there?’
The voice barked away in the dark. A torch beam carved through the gloom.
Kaitlin threw herself into the shadows. This was the third time she’d nearly been caught by some bleary-eyed security guard. Sooner or later, her luck would probably run out, she knew that.
As she vanished into the trees, the angry cries faded away, and soon there was only the sound of her ragged breath
ing and the hoot of a hunting owl. Slumping down at the foot of a pine, she tore open the burrito and stuffed it into her mouth. Once her hunger was assuaged, she felt a grey mood settle on her. Survival had been confirmed for one more day, but the grim reality of her existence continually gnawed at her.
Going off-grid had been harder than she’d ever imagined. Here she was in some godforsaken part of Jersey, trying to keep moving while she tried to formulate some kind of plan, on foot most of the time, risking hitching a ride whenever she got desperate. She couldn’t use her card – not that she had any cash in her account anyway. Dumpster-diving was her go-to for feeding herself. Occasionally, she opted for the five-finger discount. That was how low she’d fallen. She washed in restrooms, begged for glasses of water in bars. She steered clear of drinking from streams, aware that she’d likely come down with some microbial infection.
Now, the nights were getting colder and it was harder to find somewhere to sleep. She wasn’t sure she could survive the winter.
Her head sagged onto her chest and she shuddered with a few brief sobs before she huddled into her thin jacket, her head on her rucksack.
Shivering in the thin light of dawn, she thumbed the call button on her burner and listened as it went to voicemail. Thomas’ brief message rolled out.
‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘I need your help. Please call me.’
For the next three hours, she traipsed back and forth on some nature trail. Thomas didn’t return her call. Was that by choice, or had they got to him? She had no idea.
But away from the lonely depths of the night, her determination burned brighter again. She couldn’t just drift, not while there were still answers to find. It didn’t matter what powers were ranged against her. She had to be tough, for Conor’s sake, for the sake of all the families who were still suffering.
Steeling herself, she called Rory.
‘Oh, thank the Lord,’ he said when he heard her voice. ‘Kaitlin, why haven’t you answered any of my calls? I thought you were, well, you know – not with us any more.’
‘We still have work to do and as much as I have doubts about you, we need to work together.’
‘That’s fair. Completely fair. I have some explaining to do. And some amends to be made. I know I’m going to need to earn your trust again. But we were a great team, right?’
Kaitlin felt surprised at the flood of warmth from hearing a friendly voice. ‘I’m heading back to the city,’ she said. ‘I’ll hitch a ride. Here’s what we need to do …’
The CIA may well be waiting for her along with any one of the other powers hiding in the shadows. But it was time to roll the dice and hope she came out a winner.
The psychic witch looked from Kaitlin to Rory, her eyes narrowing. ‘I’m not sure why you’ve brought your legal representation. I told you everything I know.’
Rory folded his hands on the circular table. ‘I represent the families of 702 and we really need your help.’
‘What exactly do you want from me?’ The shadows cast by the flickering candles danced across Mia’s face.
‘It’s my belief that you have information that could help my clients get to the truth. I’m offering you a chance to do the right thing here.’
‘If your clients want my help then they’re welcome to make an appointment to see me.’ She turned to Kaitlin. ‘There’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know.’
‘Let’s start with what you said about my brother and the other passengers,’ Kaitlin said.
‘I told you the truth. That they’re not present. In this realm or the next.’
‘Tell me, Mia, have you been calling the passengers’ families, pretending to be their loved ones?’ Rory clicked open his briefcase and pulled out a thick file.
‘How dare you! Why on earth would I do that?’
‘To lay the groundwork for a psychic coup? Hit them up for cash?’
‘I’d never do such a thing!’
‘Because you’re a woman of such integrity?’ Rory flicked open the file. ‘My investigator dug up a real treasure trove of your disgruntled clients.’
Mia blanched.
‘Which leads me onto Slobodan Begovic. Your poison-quaffing warlord client. The one you consulted with before you got on the plane.’
Mia’s face hardened in the pale light.
‘I will not discuss my clients with you.’
‘Did he know something was going to happen to the plane? Did he warn you? Is that the real reason you got off the plane?’
‘Subscribe to my YouTube channel, Mr Murray. There are countless interviews on it regarding why I left that plane.’
‘I’ve seen them. They’re what we in the legal profession term “horse pucky”.’
‘You con your way into my place of business and now you insult me? I will not tolerate this. I must ask you both to leave.’
‘We both know I’m not the con artist here.’
‘Do I need to call the police?’
Rory tapped the file. ‘You could do that. Just like I could put together a class action against you for emotional distress. It won’t be hard to round up your disgruntled clients, seeing as they have their own Facebook group.’
Kaitlin watched Mia’s face sag. Her instinct had been right. There was leverage here. She glanced over at Rory. A ghost of a smile flickered on his lips.
‘I’m really not interested in taking you down, Mia,’ he continued. ‘Give me a dollar and anything you say to me will remain confidential. The families deserve the truth, don’t they? Please, Ms Risal. Tell me what you know and you’ll never see me again.’
Mia hesitated, then she wagged a finger at him.
‘You won’t go to the media with anything I tell you?’
‘Anything you say will stay strictly between us. You have my word.’
Mia slumped back in her chair. ‘Slobodan – he didn’t warn me exactly. He suggested that I keep my eyes and ears open. Especially when flying.’
‘Did he have reason to believe the plane would be targeted?’ Kaitlin demanded.
‘That was all he said. He was a complicated man, with many demons.’
‘But if he told you that, he must have had some kind of insider knowledge. You didn’t question him about it?’ Kaitlin pressed.
‘He was a man who had been on the run for many years. He could be paranoid.’
‘Yet you took his warning seriously.’
‘Coupled with my intuition that something was very wrong, yes.’
‘You told Kaitlin you had a bad feeling about some of the passengers on board,’ Rory said. ‘Most notably, the man sitting next to you, Dr Aziz, the immunologist. You said he became frosty when you refused to move to let him sit with his wife.’
‘That woman wasn’t his wife.’
‘We know that now.’
‘Yes, but I knew it then.’
‘How?’ Rory said.
‘I’m psychic, Mr Murray.’
‘Oh, come on, Mia, drop the act.’
She waved a hand in the air dismissively. ‘Fine. It was the way they were with each other. Her body language especially. It was guarded. Tense. On edge. I’m intuitive about these things. I have to be.’
‘And you said there was also a woman who was unwell on the plane?’
‘Yes. She was in some distress.’
Rory leaned forwards. ‘There’s something else as well, isn’t there? You’re not the only one who’s intuitive. Comes in handy in my job, too. It’ll stay between us, I promise.’
Mia paused for a moment, as though weighing up her words, then she nodded.
‘Slobodan warned me that at some point a transatlantic flight would be targeted by a terrorist group. He didn’t specify which one. But he said I should take care travelling.
‘When we were going through the pre-flight checks, that woman was having a heated argument with the man pretending to be her husband. A confrontation. He was uncomfortable. She was threatening. I couldn’t hear exactly what
was being said. But I had a feeling from the tone, the half-heard words, that something bad was going to happen.’
‘Anything else you can add?’ Rory asked.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve told you everything I know.’
‘Then thank you for your time,’ he said, pushing back his chair and standing.
As he turned to go, Mia looked him up and down.
‘There’s a darkness to your aura, Mr Murray. The signs of a troubled soul. What is it that’s poisoning you?’
Rory smiled. ‘You really don’t have to keep your routine running for our sake, Mia.’
‘Is it shame? Is the manner in which you conduct your business poisoning your conscience? Or is it something more personal?’
Rory continued to smile as he strode to the door, but Kaitlin could see his expression had tightened. A nerve had clearly been touched.
‘Come back any time,’ Mia continued. ‘I can help you, Mr Murray. Help you to exorcise the darkness that surrounds you. Guilt is not a healthy emotion to carry around. It will eat you up and spit you out.’
Outside, Kaitlin felt a wave of compassion for Rory. Whatever he’d done in the past, it was clearly something that burdened him. She didn’t feel right punishing him any further.
‘Thanks for coming along,’ she said. ‘You were the big stick I needed to beat the truth out of her.’
‘That’s me,’ Rory replied with a broad grin. ‘Just a big old chunk of wood. And now we know for sure the word was out about a terrorist attack. And we know—’
‘That we must be looking at the White Matchmaker.’ Kaitlin swallowed her relief that this new line didn’t point to Conor’s involvement.
‘And now,’ Rory said with a flourish, ‘I think it’s time we went public.’
22
The New York Chronicle building thrust up from the sprawl on the east side of Midtown. In gleaming glass and steel, with windows looking out across all parts of the city it served, the skyscraper was a monument to the principles of campaigning journalism.
‘If this is all true, it’s dynamite material, Mr Murray.’
Rachel Cohen stared down at the notes she’d scrawled on the yellow legal pad in the compact interview office overlooking the bustling newsroom. Rachel was one of the more seasoned hacks in this media empire, with several awards to her name and a resumé that saw her covering almost every major event of the last fifteen years. Rory had used all of his communication skills to get Rachel on board. This story needed the weight that she could offer, not some spotty-faced kid straight out of journalism college.
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