Finding North

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  John grunted. Jack took a bottle of Red Breast Irish Whiskey.

  “Pricey Catholic whiskey,” Jack said.

  “MI-6 gives Alex a couple cases a year,” John said.

  “Why?” Jack poured an inch of whiskey into two tumblers.

  “I don’t ask,” John said.

  Jack laughed and held out a tumbler. John looked at the glass for a moment before taking it.

  “Cheers,” Jack said and clanked John’s glass.

  John nodded and took a sip. Jack downed his. John looked at him. Jack was Cian’s best friend Eoin’s older brother. He had been a fixture in John’s rotten life in Belfast.

  “For courage,” Jack said, and he poured another inch of whiskey into his glass. “I need to speak with you about private things.”

  “If you think it will make a difference, I assure you it will not,” John said. “Your wife killed my mother as sure as she beat her to death herself. She may as well have stabbed Alex, given Max that heart attack, and hit Raz in the head.”

  “She poisoned Troy and tricked Wyatt,” Jack said. “Yes, I know.”

  Jack nodded.

  “But?” John asked.

  “No buts,” Jack said. “You’re stating facts.”

  “Then why are you out here in the cold?” John asked.

  “It is bloody cold, isn’t it?” Jack asked.

  “There’s a warm jacket . . .”John nodded to the cabinet.

  “It’s a magic chest,” Jack said. He closed the doors and said, “A pot of gold.”

  He yanked open the doors expectantly, and John laughed. Jack took out the jacket and put it on.

  “You must have known I was coming,” Jack said.

  “It’s big,” John said. “Belongs to those bodybuilders who hang around Alex. They like to come over here and play spy.”

  John pointed to an Ethernet jack on the side of the house.

  “Like I said . . .” Jack stretched his arms out.

  “The lamb’s almost done,” John said. “They cook fast, so you’d better lay it on me. Because I don’t know what I’ll do if I see Neev again.”

  “You know that your da was a monster,” Jack said.

  “I do,” John said.

  “He used Neev,” Jack said. “Viciously. She joined the convent to get away from him. He’d show up at the convent — drunk and expecting. The sisters would fight him off — best they could, anyway. He beat more than one nun trying to get to her . . .”

  John looked at Jack when he fell silent.

  “Called her his ‘property,’” Jack said.

  John winced at the clear picture of his father, Ronan.

  “I didn’t know any of this until this year,” Jack said. “Neev’s been in treatment since . . . Well, you paid for a lot of it, so you know.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want her here,” John said.

  “I know,” Jack said. “She told your da about Brigid because she was angry with Brigid.”

  John’s eyes flicked to look at Jack and then turned his attention to the lamb.

  “For not protecting her,” Jack said. “She believed that if Brigid had been a better wife to Ronan, her father wouldn’t . . . That’s what he told her. ’Course it was all horseshit.”

  Jack nodded.

  “She didn’t know that Ronan would . . . I mean — how could you?”

  John’s eyes flicked to look at Jack.

  “I would have,” John said.

  “That’s because you were there,” Jack said. “You weren’t there before Ronan went to the Long Kesh. They were happy. I remember that time. They were happy.”

  “Except for when Ronan was raping Neev?” John asked.

  “Good point,” Jack said. “It’s new to me, so I haven’t worked it all through.”

  They fell silent for a moment. John moved the meat to a cooler part of the grill.

  “You have to understand,” Jack said. “Neev . . . She seems so tough, so put together, but she’s not. She like the rest of you Kellys. Hell, all of us. Got a giant hole inside.”

  John shrugged and drank his whiskey.

  “Some bastard last year used that hole to manipulate her,” Jack said. “I can tell you, Johnny, the last thing in the world my Neev wanted to do was leave Ireland. She bloody hated leaving the borough. She wanted to be home, every day. I’d suggest going to France for the summer or Spain in the winter. She’d say she wanted to sleep in her own bed. She wouldn’t even go back home to see your brothers and sisters — or mine, for that matter.”

  Jack’s face was scored with pain and sadness.

  “Last year, someone used her, maimed her . . .” Jack said. “It’s like . . .”

  “Mental rape,” John said. “That’s what Wyatt calls it.”

  “They left her with something inside her that she didn’t ask for, doesn’t want, and can’t change,” Jack said. “Our kids came . . . to treatment, you know. They cried their eyes out. Even the boys. They couldn’t imagine their mother doing anything like this. Our youngest is sure it’s all a lie. But Neev, she refuses to be the victim or tell her side. She knows the pain she’s caused.”

  Jack nodded. He looked so sad that John touched the big man’s forearm.

  “She did it to protect me.” Jack looked up into John’s face. “And she believed she could protect you.”

  “Hubris,” John said.

  “The space between hubris and desperation is remarkably close when someone else holds all the cards,” Jack said. “We Irish know this better than most.”

  “Why are you here?” John asked.

  “Your Alex invited us, if you can believe it,” Jack said. “She told Neev that she could help to get back at the people who did this to her. Neev would do anything, no matter how big or small, to help.”

  “Even delay going back to Ireland?” John asked. “Sleeping in her own bed?”

  “That’s exactly right,” Jack said. “There’s no greater sacrifice my Neev could make than that.”

  John nodded.

  “Alex didn’t tell you we were coming?”

  “She did,” John said. “I just thought she’d be . . . home . . . or . . .”

  As if to gain his balance, John looked up at the sky. He glanced at Jack and started putting the cooked meat onto the platter.

  “Can we take the bottle in?” Jack asked.

  “There’s a supply inside,” John said.

  “We need a place to stay a while,” Jack said. “Maybe more than a year.”

  “Why so long?” John asked.

  “She’s still in treatment,” Jack said. “The Yanks told her that, if she didn’t get into trouble for two years, they wouldn’t charge her. I told her it was better to stay in the impersonal States than have our neighbors watch her check in with the Garda every day at home. She’d rather be home, but she’ll do this for me.”

  “We just purchased the place next door,” John said.

  “Where Cian and his lass live?” Jack looked at the building. “Will you show me?”

  Cian’s voice came from the house, and John scowled.

  “Why not?” John turned the burners to low and stuck the plate inside the grill.

  They went around the duplex and across Cian and Margaret’s backyard. John opened the back door to the empty unit.

  “It’s not big,” John said. “Two bedrooms upstairs, an open basement downstairs, and some storage. Garage in back. We can help you furnish it.”

  “It’s small,” Jack said. He looked from room to room. “I bet Neev will love it. Enough space for us and the kids when they come.”

  Jack nodded.

  “The kitchen is horrible,” Jack said. “Bath, too.”

  “We’ll replace them,” John said. “We replaced Cian’s.”

  “We’ll stay with you until it’s done,” Jack said.

  “You’ll stay with Max,” John said. “But you’re going to have to work it out with Wyatt.”

  “Did that,” Jack said. “Neev and Wyatt sp
ent a few hours together this afternoon.”

  “And?” John asked.

  “He wants a brain scan,” Jack said. “Americans are so odd. They throw technology at every situation.”

  “He’s a scientist,” John said.

  “I guess,” Jack said. “He’s very . . . manly. I’m a bit surprised he doesn’t have X-ray vision and a cape.”

  John laughed. Jack slapped John on the back.

  “We’ll get chickens,” Jack said.

  “Fionn has a brood in our yard,” John said.

  “Give me something to care for until ours come in spring,” Jack said.

  John groaned.

  “We’ll have goats,” Jack said.

  “You won’t,” John said.

  “Why?” Jack asked.

  “If your goats get into the garden behind our house, you’ll raise the ire of the Irish Republicans in the household,” John said.

  “Dangerous lot,” Jack grinned.

  “Don’t start,” John said.

  Jack walked from room to room while John looked at the kitchen.

  “I’m a great handyman,” Jack said. “All these properties. I bet you could use one.”

  John scowled at him.

  “Neev is amazing with children,” Jack said. “Those boys are a handful, and you have twins. The lovely Ooljee followed Neev around all afternoon. Did you know she speaks Irish?”

  “Neev?” John’s scowl deepened.

  “Ooljee,” Jack said. “I’d assumed you taught her.”

  John nodded.

  “You know I speak the God’s blessed truth,” Jack said. “There’s not a thing I can’t fix. And Neev is amazing with the babbies.”

  John hesitated.

  “We’ll need a vehicle, too,” Jack said. “Is it hard to get a driving license here?”

  John laughed. He gestured to the back of the duplex, and they left.

  “I’ll leave it unlocked so you can show your bride,” John said.

  Jack snorted. They walked back to the grill, and John retrieved the lamb. He did a quick pass over the fire to warm the steaks, and they headed toward the back door.

  “We have an agreement?” Jack asked.

  “We do,” John said.

  “You won’t be sorry, Johnny,” Jack said.

  Jack slapped him on the back and went inside. Cian met John at the door.

  “You worked it out?” Cian’s face was marked with anxiety.

  “They’ll stay with Max until the duplex is ready for them,” John said.

  “They’re in the other side?” Cian smiled. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Absolutely out of character, Cian impulsively hugged John.

  “Get off me,” Cian said in his usual gruff manner.

  He pushed John away, took the meat, and went into the kitchen. Intent on seeing his children, John went through the kitchen to the stairwell. He ran into Neev in the front entryway. They stared at each other.

  “I’m sorry, John,” Neev said. “I did something so wrong . . . I . . .”

  “If you harm a hair on Alex’s head, I will kill you myself,” John said.

  “If I harm Alex, or anyone, I will kill myself,” Neev said.

  A small woman, his older sister looked up at him with such deep sorrow that his heart turned over. Unwilling to give in too easily, John gave her a terse nod and went up the stairs. He stopped by the twins’ room. He had missed their evening awake time. They were sound asleep, and Quince didn’t want to wake them. He took a quick shower and changed into jeans. When he got downstairs, Eoin had arrived with his pregnant wife and daughter, Maeve. A few minutes later, Jack and Neev returned from looking at the duplex. Jack gave John a nod, and John smiled.

  “It’s about time,” Cian grumbled when John got back to the kitchen.

  John smiled and joined the party.

  F

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tuesday night

  May 17 — 10:15 p.m. EDT (8:15 p.m. MDT)

  Plattsburg International Airport, New York

  “Sir,” Margaret gave Alex a tablet computer. “The Intelligence Center wishes to speak with you.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said. She took the tablet, and Margaret ran to where she, Royce, and Sergeant Dusty were working.

  Alex’s eyes followed Margaret to check on the team. After all of the days and nights of training, they were thrilled to actually get to work. Colin and MJ were checking their supplies for potential medical scenarios near their transportation truck. Trece was leading warm-up and limber exercises with groups of four team members. Right now, he was working with Joseph, Matthew, Raz, and Troy. Margaret was running interference with the intelligence community. Royce managed the equipment allocation at a small table next to Sergeant Dusty, who was working through logistics. Vince and Leena were organizing their weaponry and the necessary materials for the action. White Boy was checking to make sure everyone was wearing body armor and had the weaponry they needed. And Raz was . . .

  Her eyes scanned the field for him. She found him walking toward her with the heat, echo, and infrared readings of the entire property on his laptop. Not realizing she’d seen him, his unguarded face was lined with sadness and worry. He looked up to see Alex watching him. She smiled. He opened his mouth to say something, but Trece called his name. He gave her the computer, and he ran across the field to get warmed up.

  “You will be connected to the Intelligence Center in . . .” Alex looked down at the tablet computer in her hands. “Three, two, one.”

  “Lieutenant Colonel,” said Berry, Orangie, Peaches, Cherry . . . or whatever the assistant’s fake name might be. They recruited women of indeterminate race with large eyes, poofy lips, and heart-shaped faces. The women were surgically altered to become near-exact replicas of each other. When the assistants had finished their surgery and training, they were given fruit names.

  Alex thought the plastic surgery and fruit names made the women seem like porn stars, but as one of the only high-ranking women in intelligence, no one cared what she thought about these women. The Intelligence Center wanted their assistants to be visually pleasing for their stressed-out field agents. Alex always wondered if that was because they stocked only triple-D bras to go under the plunging necklines of the assistants’ uniforms. She had to look away from the young woman to keep from laughing at her own joke.

  “Lieutenant Colonel?” the woman asked.

  “Ma’am,” Alex said. “Sorry. There’s a lot going on here.”

  “Yes, sir,” the woman said. “I will be your connection to the Intelligence Center.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex smiled. “I’ve lost track of your name.”

  “They are ridiculous, aren’t they?” the woman smiled.

  Alex gave a slight smile.

  “The Lieutenant Colonel may call me PJ,” the woman said. “For Plum Jam or Plummie.”

  Alex smiled to keep from laughing.

  “I know,” the woman shook her head. “May I call you ‘Fey’?”

  “Of course,” Alex said.

  “What might I assist you with?” PJ asked.

  “Has the Center completed the analysis of the satellite readings?” Alex asked.

  “The ones Agent Rasmussen submitted?” PJ asked.

  “Yes,” Alex said.

  The woman tapped on her computer’s keyboard for a moment before nodding.

  “There’s a little bit of a holdup,” PJ said. “They’re working to create a timeline to ensure the accuracy of the . . .”

  PJ stopped talking. Alex watched her eyes flick across her computer screen.

  “Seems to be some concern about accuracy, sir,” PJ said.

  “Accuracy? Of the satellite?” Alex asked.

  “Seems that the Intelligence Center gave you false information regarding a missile silo in North Dakota a few years ago.” PJ’s eyes flicked back and forth as she read. “The commander is personally checking every detail.”

  PJ’s head nodded.r />
  “Who?” Alex asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” PJ said.

  “Someone smart?” Alex asked. “Or someone with control issues?”

  “I’d say so,” PJ said.

  Alex scowled, and PJ lifted a delicate shoulder in a shrug.

  “Hopefully, they’ll get it to us before we leave in . . .” Alex looked at her watch. “ . . .six and a half minutes.”

  A helicopter buzzed their staging area.

  “That’s our pilot,” Alex said. “You have our com channel?”

  “Yes, sir,” PJ said.

  “Out,” Alex said.

  “Sir?” PJ asked. “Fey?”

  “Yes?”

  “I have taken the liberty to collect the details of the reconstruction of Atlas F Site 11, Plattsburg Field.”

  “Reconstruction?” Alex asked.

  “Yes, sir,” PJ said. “I took the liberty of pulling the construction plans when I learned of my assignment to you and this mission.”

  “Agent Rasmussen hasn’t found any . . .” Alex started.

  “He wouldn’t, sir,” PJ said. “These sites were decommissioned in 1965.”

  “By December 1,” Alex said. “Sold out by the end of the year.”

  “That’s correct, sir,” PJ said. “As a security precaution, owners were required to file any plans for changing the property. Plans were evaluated for national security.”

  “Keep people from rebuilding their own private missile silos,” Alex said.

  “Correct,” PJ said. “Plans are stored on microfiche and are available only on location.”

  “Wow,” Alex said.

  “‘Wow,’ sir?”

  “Uh . . .” Alex hadn’t realized she’d said that out loud. She’d been so surprised that this Plummie was actually helpful that the word had just popped out of her mouth.

  “Yes, sir,” PJ said. “I understand.”

  “No offense meant,” Alex said.

  “None taken,” PJ said. “I’m glad I get the opportunity to assist the Fey. You’re a hero to all younger female agents.”

  “Can you . . .?” Alex asked.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of sending a scan of the microfiche files to Agent Rasmussen’s account as well as to your account, sir,” PJ said.

  “Can you give me an overview so I know what I’m looking at?” Alex said.