‘It’s all true, believe me. As much as I wish it weren’t.’ Rory showed a well-practised concerned expression. ‘Where do we go from here?’
‘I’m going to type up my notes and get the story into the morning news conference.’ She checked the time on her phone. ‘Which I can just about do if I’m fast. I’m confident the editor will give it the green light. Once we have that approval, I think we’ll get you in for our daily news podcast so you can talk through your investigation. It’s hugely popular; global reach.
‘We’ll run the story in the paper and online alongside that, backed up by our social media channels. Maybe a profile of you for our weekend magazine. How does that suit you?’
‘That sounds perfect.’
‘OK. If I could ask you to keep your phone on at all times. We’ll need to move quickly on a story of this magnitude. We’ll need plenty of fact-checking and we won’t want any of the agencies you mentioned trying to shut this down. If everything stands up, we’ll be ready to run.’
‘Hot off the presses!’ Rory stood up and gave the faintest of bows. ‘And I have to say, big fan of your work. Let’s shine the light of truth into the murky corners of the entire Flight 702 cover-up.’
Rory eased through the queues in the coffee shop and the cloud of fragrant steam to the small room at the back. There, Kaitlin sat in the corner in her shapeless hoodie with her Jets cap pulled so low it was impossible to tell even her gender.
He watched her for a moment, feeling a rare sense of warmth and protectiveness over her, which made him think of his daughter, Zara. Kaitlin looked so fragile and insignificant, yet she’d been a relentless force, single-handedly driving this entire investigation with courage and determination.
She was scared now, he could see that. Her encounter with the CIA and her nights spent God only knew where had rattled her. But here she was still, risking it all to do the right thing.
‘How did it go?’ she asked when he pulled up a chair opposite her.
‘Just waiting for final approval, then we’re good to go.’
‘You still think this is the right thing to do?’
‘Conspiracies thrive in the dark, and so do threats. Once this is out there, the CIA won’t have to concern themselves with you exposing their shortcomings. They’ll have bigger things to worry about.’
‘Or so you hope.’
‘OK, it’s a gamble. But once the story is in the public sphere, we can get real government oversight of any investigation – here and in the UK.’
‘Unless both governments are involved.’
‘Then you and I are both spending the rest of our lives hanging out in the wilds of Nebraska.’ Rory watched her weary face as her eyes darted around the coffee shop. This clearly wasn’t the moment for his light-hearted humour. ‘We’re near the endgame now,’ he told her gently, reaching out to squeeze her hand. ‘We’ve identified the major players. We’re just putting the final pieces in the puzzle, but we can see the big picture forming. We’ve just got to hold firm for a little bit longer.’
Kaitlin nodded. ‘You’re right. I know.’
‘Don’t forget – you don’t have to do this on your own. Not any more.’
She forced a pale smile. After the darkness and misery he’d seen in her face, it seemed like a lamp coming on.
His phone buzzed and as he glanced down at it and saw a familiar photo, he felt his blood run cold. Oblivious to Kaitlin’s curious expression, he scanned the accompanying message and then said, ‘I’ve gotta take this. I’ll be back in a minute.’
He hurried out before she had the chance to say a word.
Rory glanced up and down the street, searching every face that passed. Finally, he heard a name muttered just behind his ear and he turned to see a woman with dyed blue hair, shaved on the right side and a nose ring.
‘Walk with me,’ she said and stepped away.
Rory skipped to catch up. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘You saw the photo?’
‘Who are you?’ he insisted again.
‘There’s a lot more material where that came from. You’ve really dug deep in some holes. There’s a lot more material.’
‘CIA? S-some underground group?’
‘You visited the New York Chronicle office.’ She paused by her reflection in a window and ran fingers through her hair. ‘If you’re thinking of going public with any of the information you have, I’d definitely think again.’
They were watching him, whoever ‘they’ were. He’d suspected it, of course he had. But he’d never thought they’d take this route. That was stupid of him. He really should have known better.
‘You’re going to blackmail me?’ he said.
Finishing her grooming, the woman set off again, not even deigning to throw Rory a glance. ‘That photo. Rose Greer. You remember her? Of course you do. Wow, that was a messy affair. And with a client, too. That must have thrown up a few ethical issues. I mean, I’m no attorney, but I’m guessing sleeping with a client and then screwing up her case might raise a conflict or two with the American Bar Association’s Model Rules of Professional Conduct? Yes? No?’
Rory stared at the sidewalk. That had been a difficult time in his life. He had thought it was dead and buried.
‘I don’t know how much your wife knew about it. Remind me, which wife was it at the time? I’ll have to check. You did a great job keeping that out of the public eye. But if it hit now? With a daughter locked up in a foreign clinic?’
‘She’s not locked up,’ he snapped.
‘And the bills not getting paid, like you don’t really care for her.’ The woman shrugged. ‘Wow. What a dick. That’s what people will be thinking, right? Could be career ending. Oh, if only that was the end of it.’
Rory swallowed. He could see where this was going.
‘I took a look at a pretty big file,’ she continued. ‘Some quite detailed accusations of bribery and corruption.’
‘Accusations!’ Rory stressed. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back. ‘Nothing proven.’
‘Because none of them, as yet, have been investigated.’ This time, she did glance at him. A tight smile, twitching at the corners. ‘So, here’s the deal, Mr Murray. You go public. We go public. You decide to walk away from this, so do we.’
Rory stared into her eyes, but he was looking right through her, into his past and deep into his future. He could see how this would unfold. The scandal. The shame. Everything he’d worked so hard for, destroyed. He was a pragmatic man. He could weigh the opposing outcomes and it wasn’t even close. Besides, he wasn’t a brave man. He was clear-eyed about his flaws. He’d rather run and hide and live to fight another day.
No, he couldn’t see his whole life brought down, just for Flight 702.
There would be other fights. He’d have a chance to redeem himself.
‘OK,’ he said, feeling his stomach churn. ‘You have a deal.’
‘You’re a wise man, Mr Murray. Hopefully, we’ll never have to meet again.’
She turned round and walked away into the flow of passers-by. Rory watched her blue hair bobbing away.
In that instant, he realised his hands were trembling. And not just that. His entire body was shuddering as if he were gripped by an awful sickness. He staggered to one side and crashed against the wall, propping himself up before he slumped down to the sidewalk.
Get a grip. You’re falling apart. What’s wrong with you?
A moment later, he understood what this terrible, unfamiliar feeling was: his conscience.
God, he hated it.
Gritting his teeth, Rory hurled himself along the sidewalk, throwing cursing strangers this way and that. Finally, he caught up with the blue-haired woman and grabbed her shoulder. She whirled.
‘I take it back,’ he gasped. ‘I take it all back.’
Those eyes, like steel, carving him up.
‘Do your worst,’ he said.
The woman raised an eyebrow, then she nodded. �
��Oh, don’t worry. We will.’
She marched away without a backwards glance.
Still shaking, Rory staggered back inside and slipped into the seat opposite Kaitlin.
‘Rory! What’s happened?’ she asked, looking shocked.
After pouring out his experience, he sucked in a few deep breaths to calm himself and said, ‘Let me tell you what a horrible human being I am.’
And for the next half-hour, Rory detailed every failing, every flaw, every line crossed for whatever reason, in both his business and personal life. He spoke about all of his ex-wives and the stupid things he’d done to crash every marriage. The affairs he’d had and the ones he’d seemed incapable of avoiding, even when he was happy with his partner at the time. He admitted to his emotional weaknesses – and for the first time admitted them to himself – and described how he felt he’d failed his daughter and had never done enough to help with her addiction. He’d even let down some of his clients, and his business was where his focus had always been.
Rory watched Kaitlin’s eyes widen as the seemingly endless list continued and he gripped himself for the moment when she’d get up and walk out. But to her credit, she stuck it out.
‘You deserve to know who you’re working with,’ he said, ‘and I apologise for not being straight with you from the start. I guess I didn’t want you to judge me. To be honest, I’ve spent so long avoiding even thinking about any of this to refrain from judging myself.’
‘So why now?’
‘Someone just tried to blackmail me. Said they’d make all this public if I didn’t walk away from the investigation, or if I made any attempt to go public with what we know.’
Kaitlin tapped her straw on the edge of the table. ‘This will pretty much destroy you.’
‘I know.’
‘So?’
Rory sucked in a steadying breath. ‘I told them to get back on their horse and ride out of town.’
Kaitlin nodded. She had a good poker face, he thought.
‘I’m pretty horrified. I mean, anyone would be, hearing all that.’
‘I understand.’
‘But, taking a stand like that, I suppose it shows some integrity.’
‘I thank you for that, however grudging it might be.’
They both grinned at one another and the tension broke. A brief moment of relief among all the sweat and doubt and fear.
‘On a positive note, they must be worried,’ Kaitlin added. ‘We’re getting closer to the truth.’
Rory cracked his knuckles. ‘Time to let the world know all about Flight 702 and the White Matchmaker.’
23
Kaitlin watched through the window of the recording booth as Rory hunched over the microphone. He was a natural performer, she had to give him that. For the New York Chronicle podcast, he weaved all the complex information into a gripping tale. She could see from the light in Rachel Cohen’s eyes that this was going even better than expected.
When they walked out, Rachel and Rory were laughing as if they were old friends.
‘How does this work?’ Rory asked Rachel.
‘Once we’ve edited the podcast, we’re going to release it immediately,’ she said. ‘Flood social media. This is too big to sit on. The editor’s clearing the front page so we can go big on this in today’s print final. Looks like you’re going to become something of a celebrity. I’d brace yourself.’
Rory held his arms wide. ‘In my mind, Rachel, I’ve always been a celebrity.’
‘I’m serious. You don’t realise how these things take off.’
As they took the elevator down, having bid Rachel farewell, Kaitlin asked, ‘Are you sure this was the right thing to do?’
Rory licked a fingertip and smoothed an eyebrow in his reflection in the brass plate around the floor buttons. He actually seemed to be relishing what was lying ahead.
‘No going back now.’
‘If they go for your reputation—’
He chuckled. ‘“What reputation?” many might say. My calculation: they’ll be too busy scrambling to control the public fallout. All those questions about who knew what, when. Why it wasn’t made public. How high did the cover-up go.’
So many risks, though. How this developed was now out of their hands.
Rory seemed to see her doubts. ‘We’d got as far as we could with our investigation. All of the passengers we’ve got on our list, all of the agencies trying to block us at every turn. We needed something spectacular to reset the rules. It’s a new game now and maybe when the dust has cleared, we can see the road ahead.’
‘To finding Conor and the others?’
He nodded. ‘We do that, it was all worth it, right? All the dangers, the threats. A better tomorrow. That’s my reasoning for what some might say is a reckless roll of the dice. This is the moment of our greatest success – or greatest danger.’
Cameras flashed. Rory’s eyes flared as he stood behind the forest of microphones at the podium. The pack of journalists swelled around the front of the low stage, desperate to catch his attention. As Kaitlin scanned the crowd from the back of the room, it seemed to her as though every major publication from anywhere in the world was represented here. This was big news.
She felt a rush of joy that the families of the passengers of Flight 702 were finally getting their concerns heard and, hopefully, the answers they deserved after so long in the dark. But behind it all she was still afraid. That seemed to be the mood music for her life these days.
The media event had been called at short notice owing to the burgeoning public interest. The New York Chronicle was keen to publicise its exclusive and had offered the use of its boardroom. Turned out it was barely big enough.
As Rory fielded the questions with all his usual panache, Kaitlin zoned out the incessant shouting of journalists and Rory’s smooth answers while skimming social media. The Chronicle account had gone viral. Retweets piling up. Facebook groups burning with conspiracy theories. Rory’s face was everywhere: The Man Who Blew the Lid Off the Flight 702 Cover-up.
She was glad it wasn’t her.
As Rory slipped off the stage, Rachel Cohen wrapped up the event, telling the hacks that there would be more revelations to come. The airline was to hold a media conference, and soon there would be a response from the US and UK governments.
Rory nodded to the rear door and Kaitlin darted out with him. They headed straight to the elevators before they could be pursued.
‘My cell’s buzzing with messages from the families,’ Rory said. ‘All those folks who rejected me out of hand. They now want to be a part of this. We’re going to get this class action off the ground.’
‘You did a great job there. I’m so proud of you.’
Rory clamped his mouth shut for a moment. Then, his voice a little hoarse: ‘It’s been a while since anyone’s said that to me.’
He was still quiet as they crossed the lobby, but once they were out in the chill morning, his natural exuberance flourished once more.
‘We need to lie low while this plays out,’ he said. ‘My investigator has booked us an Airbnb in Williamsburg under an assumed name. Wait here while I hail a cab.’
While Rory dived off the kerb, waving his arm, Kaitlin pressed herself back against the wall of the Chronicle building. She kept her head down, trying to look inconspicuous.
She jolted when a hand grabbed her arm. Trying to wrench herself free, she glanced round. Into the face of Agent Dennison.
‘You made a big mistake,’ he growled. ‘And there’s going to be a price to pay.’
Kaitlin could hear Rory calling her name and sounding increasingly panicked, but Dennison had dragged her a little way down the street and round the side of the building out of sight. Though he wasn’t rough with her as she struggled, he was insistent and his eyes burned with a light that worried her.
‘Let me go,’ she gasped.
‘I’m not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite. I want to make sure you’re safe.’
; ‘This isn’t the way to do it.’
‘Who’s that guy you’re with?’
‘My friend.’
‘You trust him?’
‘Yes!’
Dennison peered round the edge of the building, watching Rory as he searched back and forth.
‘How did you get out?’ she demanded.
‘That doesn’t matter now.’ Dennison seemed to weigh the situation, then he dragged Kaitlin out into view. ‘We’re over here,’ he bellowed.
Rory raced down the street when he saw them. ‘Leave her alone,’ he demanded, ‘or so help me—’
‘Don’t pick a fight with me,’ Dennison snarled. ‘I’m on your side.’
‘Rory, it’s OK. This is Agent Dennison,’ Kaitlin said with haste.
‘Not agent any more,’ Dennison said. ‘The FBI are done with me. Just Jim.’
Rory scrutinised him, no doubt trying to see what kind of trouble lay ahead. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘You made a mistake identifying the White Matchmaker as the key to this. My contacts tell me the truth about her is going to come out soon. Then you two will be out in the open, no cover, and ripe for being taken down.’ He looked around. ‘We need to get out of sight.’
Kaitlin hesitated for a moment, then she made a decision. ‘Let’s take him with us to Williamsburg.’
‘You sure?’ Rory asked.
‘Yes. I-I trust him.’
‘Thanks,’ Dennison said. ‘And you’re right to. I admit I got a little … erratic … before. Desperation does that to you. But you know that, right?’ he said to Kaitlin.
She nodded.
Minutes later, they were in a yellow cab, heading away from Delancey and across the Williamsburg Bridge.
No one spoke.
‘This is what I meant,’ Dennison said when he was standing in front of the TV in the apartment. CNN played a picture of Rory followed by a media conference hosted by the UK foreign minister.
Passenger List Page 18
