“As quietly as possible,” James said.
I shook my head. “It’s time to make this public. Egan’s face is well-known. Somebody’s seen him.” I pushed the box toward him. “Look at the evidence if you’re still not sure.”
“I agree,” Layla said. “It’s time to bring him in. Secrecy only serves him. We need to make a public announcement as soon as possible.”
“We’ll need you at the press conference.” Callista reached across the table and patted Phoenix’s hand. “It’s important you put on your best face for this.”
I couldn’t stop the scornful sound from escaping my lips. “I’m going to get back to the list of properties, see if anything pops out. Good luck with your press conference… thingy.”
I left to return to my house, where my friends were waiting. I had spent way too much time on the Senate.
* * *
We watched the press conference that evening in Carl’s place. He drank a beer while Dita and Emmett played cards at his feet. Anka and Val discussed Leah’s future while Leah pretended not to hear them. Peter sat on the arm of my chair, uncomfortably close in a way that was familiar and cosy at the same time.
“Here it is,” Carl said, raising the volume on the television. “The Senate out in all of their finery.”
The members of the Senate currently in the city had gathered on a platform, surrounded by Integration Agents for protection. The audience was full of a select group of reporters. Daimhín sat at the very end of the table, her gaze preoccupied. Phoenix sat at the other end, a torn-up piece of paper in front of him.
“Poor Phoenix,” Leah said. “He looks so sad.”
To me, he looked angry—simmering, really. In the centre of them all was Callista, a friendly smile on her face. It looked as though she would do the talking. That was a relief. Even the Humans First protesters couldn’t bring themselves to hate her.
Mick began. “We’re here today to appeal to the public.” He sounded embarrassed.
“Why is he acting like he doesn’t want to be there?” Carl said huffily.
“Hush,” Anka scolded. “We’ll miss it.”
“…linked to a number of incidents,” Mick was saying. “Our main focus is on a well-known person of interest. We believe Declan Egan himself is involved in criminal activity, and—”
“Do you mean to tell us a local philanthropist is responsible for a crime wave?” a reporter asked.
“That… is, sadly, exactly what we are telling you today.” Mick cleared his voice. “Some of the crimes are inexcusable, but—”
“I’ll get this one,” Callista said softly. “The evidence speaks for itself. Declan Egan is connected to a number of unpleasant incidents, and certain revelations have come to light recently that implicate him in… more serious matters.”
“Such as?” another reporter asked.
Callista smiled, and I could almost feel the room react.
“There she goes,” Val said.
“You owe me, Carl,” Peter said triumphantly.
“Damnit.” Carl pulled a ten euro note out of his pocket. “I didn’t think she’d last so long without pulling the winning-smile routine.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to concentrate.
“Slavery, for another,” Callista said in response to a different question. “We all know how our last government fell, and we can’t afford to let anyone away with—”
Phoenix rose to his feet. “We won’t tolerate it. Slaves, indentured servants, human and supernatural trafficking. It’s not acceptable, and if you are involved, expect the consequences. I will not allow it in my city.”
“Aaaaand he lost them,” Carl said.
The press conference continued, but we all lost interest. Callista and Mick kept reassuring the public, asking them not to approach Egan because he was dangerous and issuing a dedicated phone line for tips.
“They’re fools if they think they’re going to find him this way,” Peter said. “He’s a hero. Even I’ve heard of him. He’s campaigned on behalf of a number of charities, hasn’t managed to offend anyone—ever—and is rich enough to pay anyone off. He’s like the Pablo Escobar of Dublin. They won’t touch him this way.”
“He’s running slaves,” I said impatiently. “Nobody will stand for that.”
“Except he’s human,” Anka said in a worried tone. “Human privilege means he has a better chance of escaping this than Fionnuala did.”
That theory unsettled my stomach. It was one of those uncomfortable truths. The world was mostly human, and the rest of us had to cater to humans.
“Not even us privileged humans will accept slavery,” Carl said drily.
“You know what I meant,” Anka said.
Emmett looked up at his father. “If he’s going to get away with it, will he come for us?”
Peter bristled. “If he does, I promise you I’ll kill him.”
And when Emmett reacted with a relieved smile, a tiny part of me died inside. We hadn’t changed much of the world, after all.
* * *
Val, Peter, Carl, and I continued to sort through our copies of the paperwork we had passed on to the Senate.
“Breslin and Alex are still doing their bit,” I said as we passed around cookies that Dita had baked for us.
“Shouldn’t we let the authorities deal with this now?” Carl asked, stretching.
“Do you trust them to do this properly?” Val asked.
“I’m just tired of working for free.” He rubbed his eyes then set to work again. “This feels like running around in a circle.”
“Short of visiting every place Egan has set foot upon, we can only hope we figure out something we missed.” I shrugged. “His brother has been helpful, but even he’s having trouble tracking down Declan. He’s trying to decode some kind of weird diary right now, as far as I know. I haven’t heard much since the press conference.”
“The man’s recognisable,” Peter said gruffly. “How could he travel around here and not get recognised? I mean, not even an accidental picture of him on someone’s personal profile online?”
“Maybe he found a way out of the country before the ports and airports got themselves set up to look for him,” Val said.
I rubbed my temples. A serious headache was setting in. “I’m going to make a coffee. Anyone want one?”
They all did. In the kitchen, I tried to clear my head, but there was just so much information to sort through. Maybe that was the point. The details were slowing us down, likely giving Declan Egan time to get away.
My phone buzzed. I stopped pouring coffee long enough to check it. I swore under my breath and headed back into my living room.
“Turn on the telly,” I said, stepping over Carl’s long legs as he sprawled across the floor, surrounded by paper.
“What is it?” Peter asked.
“Either the answer to our prayers or a fuckton of trouble,” I said.
Val had the remote. She switched on the television. Declan Egan appeared on the screen, surrounded by people.
Carl squinted. “Is that outside the Integration offices?”
“Looks like.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “Egan’s handing himself in.”
“And he needs all of those reporters because?” Peter sucked in a breath. “Ah.”
Declan Egan faced the screen with a concerned look plastered on his face. “I’m here today to voluntarily cooperate with the police and the Senate over the confusing accusations made yesterday evening. I’ve no idea where this stems from, but I intend to find out and deal with it promptly.”
“The Senate said you went into hiding,” a reporter shouted. “Where have you really been, Mr. Egan?”
“Recovering, actually.” He laid a hand over his chest, a picture of sincerity. “I think most of you know about my heart problems. I’ve suffered from bouts of illness since childhood. I recently experienced another attack, and I was advised by my personal doctors to recover in a quiet, remote location.” He frowned. “
I’ve risked that recovery by coming here, but when a man’s integrity is besmirched…” He shrugged. “I hope the public understands. I believed it was for the best to come here myself instead of potentially wasting government resources on vicious rumours.”
“What was your reaction to last night’s press conference?” a reporter asked.
He looked pained. “My friends accused me of awful crimes. I’m confused and baffled as to these allegations. I’ve funded charities, public works, after-school projects, even upgraded mental health facilities with my own money. I’ll prove the allegations to be falsehoods—don’t you worry.”
“Crap,” I whispered. “I almost believe him, and I know he’s a lying piece of shit.”
“What if he’s telling the truth?” Carl asked. “What if he’s being set up, and we’ve all been tricked into helping?”
“A scapegoat?” Peter rolled up his sleeves. “Don’t tell me that now.”
“No,” Val said quietly, still staring at the screen. “He plays a good game, but he’s a little too perfect. He has the right expression, the right gestures, but look at his eyes. Completely dead. Can’t fake that.”
She was right. Declan had the same shape eyes as his brother, even the same shade of blue, but there was nothing else there. No expression. No emotion. Just a blankness that didn’t fit with his act.
“So much for this being the work of an ancient,” I said. “If you don’t have power and connections, you can just buy them for the right price. And if you look human, everyone will automatically believe the best in you.”
* * *
The next morning, I read the early newspaper with disgust. Declan Egan’s exclusive interview took up the first nineteen pages in a special edition. He was supposed to have been in custody all night, so he had to have prepared for the interview in advance. So much for spending his time in recovery.
“Not good,” I muttered as I skimmed the words. Egan’s woe-is-me tale of persecution and mishaps was exactly the kind of drivel that particular paper was known for. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Every shred of evidence against the man was scrutinised by the reporter, only to be scorned by Egan. Theories were discussed then shredded apart. Oh, he admitted to knowing Jennifer Boyle all right, but her boyfriend got the blame for leading her into a life of crime. He was the one who not only gave her a gun, but then somehow retrieved it from the police and handed it over to patients in the hospital where he worked.
And the baby was described as a complete fabrication by an “informant” with a grudge. Of course he had nothing to do with loan sharks and the like. He had so much money that he was already giving it away on a regular basis. Why would he bother with crime? The attack on his character was based on nothing but politics.
I went online to see what the general consensus was on an Irish forum, but Egan’s interview had just fed the conspiracy theories. What was the government hiding if they were attacking an obviously innocent man? The situation was going from bad to worse.
I watched the news as the Senate oversaw preparations to enable a force of armed Gardaí to transfer Egan from the Integration offices—where Shay confirmed he had been charged under the Offences Against the State Act—straight to the Special Criminal Court. Egan’s legal team promised to make an application to appeal for bail.
The Senate had already warned us to keep out of it, saying that they would handle everything to do with Egan, but a part of me didn’t feel comfortable just letting go. Still, if bail was refused—and it almost certainly would be—at least the man would be kept off the streets. And perhaps with Egan locked away, the baby would re-surface again—if she was even in the country.
I made up my mind to go to court for the pre-trial hearing to watch Egan figuratively burn. Most of Dublin had the same idea. I arrived early, but I still struggled through the crowds. There were the usual protesters—claiming human persecution as always—then there were parents whose children had been in the school and people who still believed in the Senate. Curious bystanders watched, some more invested than others, and many IAs held the crowds back from the doors.
“The hearing isn’t open to the public,” a well-dressed woman said from a hastily assembled podium. “But we won’t let that stop us from sharing with you every accusation against an innocent man.”
“Here comes the PR,” a woman behind me said. “Spin, spin, spin.”
The crowds were soon distracted by the very public trial going on outside in the streets. Egan’s representatives were out in full force, swaying the public to the “right” point of view.
Plenty of Egan’s supporters were in the crowd, but there were just as many against him. Those were the ones firing questions at the woman and her associates, who had an answer for everything.
“Where is this baby?” the woman said, a smirk dancing on her lips. “It’s a lie created to tug at your heartstrings. Slavery is a myth. It’s a bygone from old days when humans were not in charge. Supernatural creatures were the only ones who owned slaves.”
“That’s a lie!” a man shouted from the crowd. “My family owned slaves. They owned bloody everything around here. Declan just wants to follow in the family footsteps.”
With a groan, I realised Kenneth Egan was drunk and making his way to the podium.
“He’s dirt,” he cried out. “A user, a blackmailer, a thief, and an evil bastard. I’m embarrassed to call him my brother.” He tripped and fell, and the crowd laughed. “Ah, fuck off,” he said, not bothering to get up. “You’re just a pack of sheep anyway.”
That kicked off the name-calling. I pushed my way through the crowd to reach Kenneth before the mob stampeded over his head.
“Excuse me,” I said. “He’s not a well man.” I reached for his arm to help him up, but a rotund man shoved me out of the way.
“A sheep?” he bellowed. “Who are you calling sheep?”
Kenneth laughed too loudly. “Are you the—”
I pressed my hand over Kenneth’s mouth and shook my head. “Don’t listen to him,” I called out loudly. “He’s just—”
The man pushed me again, and I fell on top of Kenneth. The crowd surged, and the taste of adrenaline filled my mouth.
“The cheek of you!” A young woman hit the man with her ridiculously oversized handbag. “You don’t put your hands on a woman!”
I helped Kenneth to his feet and tried to tow him out of the crowd, but we kept getting pushed back. The crowd was alive with some kind of madness, and I sensed trouble too late. The shover somehow found his way next to us and swung at Kenneth, who tripped in time to duck to strike. The fist hit me in the nose instead.
I wrinkled my face, my nose prickling with pain.
“She’s bleeding!” somebody said.
I wiped the back of my hand across my nose. He was right.
The shover was hauled backward. I lost sight of him, but I still had Kenneth. I gripped him tight and pushed him out of harm’s way. We made it beyond the worst of the crowds, and I shoved him against a wall. He could barely stand up straight.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I demanded, using my sleeve to wipe my face clean of the blood. “You caused a scrap back there.”
“Did you not hear what they were saying about my brother? Making him out to be some kind of saint. I couldn’t…” He raised his hands and clenched his fingers into fists. “I couldn’t listen anymore.”
A window shattered in the distance.
“Damnit,” I said. “They’re out of control.”
“Where’s my friend?” Kenneth demanded. “Did he follow us?”
“What friend?”
“The man. Your man back there. Did you not see him? He agreed with me.”
I rolled my eyes, wondering if it had been his imagination or an agitator. “Kenneth, I’m going to get you home. Where do you live?”
He waved a hand. “No chance. I’m going to face him when he walks out of those doors. I’m going to make him see me for a cha
nge.”
“You can’t stay here. Somebody else will take a swing at you as soon as you open your mouth.”
“I do not care,” he said stubbornly, exaggerating his diction.
“You are super annoying.” But I couldn’t leave him there alone. And I wanted to face Egan, too.
A group of people lurched toward us, so I pulled Kenneth farther back. A couple of marked cars showed up soon after and made an effort at clearing the streets. Some of the group had already moved on, but was still being disruptive.
“Come on,” I said. “It should be done by now. The path has cleared a little. It might be easier to keep you safe.”
“Who promoted you?” he muttered.
“Just move, Kenneth. If you die now, you won’t be able to testify against your brother, will you?”
He bucked up and moved along. We lingered near the courthouse for a while, and finally, the IAs cleared the way enough for the doors to be opened. Phoenix burst through the doors first, looking as though he were in a rage. He looked around, saw me waving, then jogged over.
“Where is he?” he demanded.
“Who?”
“Egan. Bail was set. He won’t be detained during this. I got held up. Did you see him pass?”
“He didn’t come out this way,” I said. “The doors just opened. It got a bit crazy out here. Kind of a mob situation.”
“Damnit.” Phoenix nodded at Kenneth. “If your brother isn’t at his house, then you better have somewhere else for us to look for him. I’m not letting him escape this time.”
The corners of Kenneth’s mouth rose into a grin. “Looks like I’m on the right team for a change.”
20
Two days later, I watched the aftermath of what had turned out to be a mini riot after the hearing. Half the city wanted to kill the other half, and nobody appeared to notice Declan Egan’s suspicious absence, mostly because his legal team claimed he was too sick to do anything but rest. I doubted he was ever going to show his face again.
Tithes (Ava Delaney Page 20
