by Elaine Nolan
“A charity ball.”
“Leave it with me, but you had better come back with damn good Intel.”
“I’ll do my best. In the meantime, I’m off to do my super-tech, super-spy thing. As soon as I have something, I’ll let you know.”
Rainey was another task to add to an ever-growing list, and she noted it on her online task manager, her mind drawing lines and making connections to the other items on there. Obscure and tenuously connected ideas and notions now started to come together. Having Rainey in the equation caused some pieces of the puzzle to fall into place. She still had no evidence to support her growing theories, but at least they were becoming more tangible, giving her a signpost of where to find that evidence.
She delved into the Huntington files again, armed with Rainey’s online accounts, and wasn’t disappointed to find his lesser known ones in the archives. His comment about a deep dive wasn’t lost on her, but how deep did his guy go? While most internet users operated unaware that they only scratched the surface of only four percent of publicly accessible information, at least two more levels existed below that shiny, glittering, attention suck; the deep and the dark web being the two known ones.
Most of her work in her pre-intelligence life served clients who hovered somewhere in the deep web, with operational secrets they wanted to keep from prying or curious eyes. She’d provided encryptions to keep those systems safe and free from infections, malware threats or sneaky little spiders, and other coded bugs that never made the headlines, unless some large corporation or institution was hit. Even then, the threat was only made public in order to shame and humiliate those who were hit. The most virulent cyber-viruses never even came up for air, and again, the vast populous remained unaware of their existence, until something went wrong, or when someone’s private life was turned upside down by something like identity theft because of these dangerous pieces of coding.
Had she veered down a different path in earlier years, she could have reaped handsome financial rewards from such illicit online activities. She’d zagged and landed on a more righteous path. It wasn’t out of a sense of morality; the challenge of staying one step ahead of hackers and bot-coders had been the bigger incentive, and providing a legal financial income. Her teenage brushes with the law tempered and steered her adulthood into staying on the right side, where she was less likely to draw attention to herself. And what a fickle bitch life turned out to be.
She copied the files from the search results and pulled out of the Huntington site before they could register she was even in there, but not before scrubbing any record of her search. If Walters wanted to play silly buggers and stall Leigh, she was more than happy to retaliate in kind, and with a vengeance. Walters’ change in behaviour and attitude set off warning bells, the ones that screamed of a cover up, or serious back-tracking. What did Huntington have to hide this time?
The new files on Rainey told a different story than the Director’s claims of occasionally monitoring her brother. But Rainey wasn’t in this alone. Leigh had no doubts of his intelligence and cleverness, his school and college records proved that. She had no doubts Rainey had a chip on his shoulder, but she guessed it was more from a sense of male privilege and elitism than having a grievance against the world.
The funding Lee set up would’ve given Rainey a comfortable financial cushion, and while his spending wasn’t extravagant, Rainey had a taste for the high-life that didn’t reflect or impact on his trust fund. Her only conclusion was, and she’d accused him of the very same thing at their first meeting as siblings, that someone else was bankrolling him. And another of her dad’s rules came to the fore; follow the money. She was sure he quoted an established police operating procedure on that one.
The only problem was the money led back to Huntington. While she found no traces to Lantry, the former and disgraced Director of the UK Intelligence Agency, the trail grew muddy by that point. Was that the reason for Walters’ abrupt change in attitude? Had her team found something damaging somewhere in the bowels of Huntington’s file storage? If it was bad but only in a paper file, Leigh knew that file would disappear, without a trace. They’d be insane to scan it for posterity, or worse, for someone like her to find.
For a distraction, she turned her attention to her brother’s predicament and set the parameters for her own spider trawling programs, anti-bot securities and battle-bots, and let them loose into systems murkier than Huntington. When nothing came back within the first few hours she suspected either he lied about his emails and messages, or someone had carried out a thorough job of erasing them. Very few were that good, but she wasn’t one for giving in.
CHAPTER 36
His text message alerted her of his impending arrival, but she still made him wait outside the Embassy for her. She figured it would be a mistake to let him think she’d come whenever he called. She wondered what having a big brother to grow up with would’ve been like, at how different life could’ve been. Would he have kept her on the straight and narrow? Having two children to come home to, would that have stopped Lee from putting himself into so much danger?
Karl was the substitute son and a brother of sorts, and thinking of him ached again, frustration rising at the lack of progress in getting answers, either on who he was running from or why he was murdered. The two were interlinked, but the what-ifs fascinated her. In software development what-ifs were an integral part of that process, and it served her well in this new life direction, but she had to draw the line sometimes, otherwise she’d lose herself in the infinite possibilities, especially on this new family connection.
The trail of her blue dress streamed down the entrance steps as she descended, and Nathan had to remind himself it was his sister he gazed at. She wore one of those curve-enhancing dresses designed to make men spill secrets, and he wondered if that was her intention. He watched her drape a shawl around her bare shoulders, covering the trailing ends of tattoos and the exposed rise of her breasts that the cups of the dress pushed up, and once covered, he found he could breathe again. She allowed the Private on duty at the Embassy entrance to open the car door for her, and she sat into the front passenger seat beside him. So, she could relinquish control, he thought, when she wanted to.
“You look nice,” he commented, as nonchalantly as he could manage.
“Thanks,” she said, but he got the impression she wasn’t happy about it. “Who are these people we’re meeting?” she asked instead, getting straight to business. Her curt demeanour surprised him, and he hoped she would not be this surly at the event.
“Well, for starters, there’s my two closest friends, Mark and Garrett. Mark was the first friend I made after dad dumped me here. Garrett was a roommate at college. The three of us had this grand ideal to change the world.”
“You’re not the first idealists, I doubt you’ll be the last. Dad was one,” she told him, which he found reassuring, but given her current mood, he wasn’t sure if she meant it as a compliment, or a criticism, and he refrained from asking. He headed for Georgetown and she recognised places she’d passed in her little foray into this location a few days earlier including the deli for Donal’s Khachapuri. He pulled up to the 5-star hotel.
“Oh, we’re roughing it,” she commented, and he chuckled at her sarcasm as he got out, handing over the keys to the valet. She allowed him to open the passenger door, and took his proffered hand as he offered to help her out. “Anything else I need to know before we go in?” she asked. He shrugged.
“It would take days of prepping you on everyone who will be here. You’ll have to wing it.” His regret at not having more time to prepare for this with her sounded genuine.
“Won’t be the first time,” she answered, and took his proffered arm. She fixed a demure smile on her face, belying her mood, which unnerved him at the ease in which she slipped into this role. He guided her in, presenting his invite card before gaining entry. He pointed out Mark in the nearby group, but from her nod he suspected she knew who he was. When he gave her a qu
estioning look she smiled at him, unsettling him further. They both caught Mark frowning in their direction but he excused himself and broke away from his group, approaching them.
“Nate?” he asked, frowning at Leigh. “You brought her here?” Leigh gave Nathan a look of innocent curiosity.
“Mark, meet my little sister, Leigh,” Nathan introduced them. Leigh let go of his arm and held her hand out to Mark, startling him enough that he shook it without thinking.
“Is my being here a problem?” she asked Mark, sounding sweet and concerned enough that Nathan wasn’t sure if she was acting or not. “Maybe I should go. If it’s an issue, I don’t want to cause you a problem,” she said to Nathan. He bit the inside of his bottom lip as her shawl slipped from her shoulders, draping instead around her arms, but exposing her somewhat prominent feminine features, which he caught Mark staring at.
“Matt, that’s my sister,” he chastised his friend, snapping Mark’s gaze from the distraction. Leigh made of an effort to move the edge of the shawl over her dress.
“I’m so sorry,” she said in at tone that threw Nathan for her humility. “I’m so used to wearing a uniform or a suit that I asked someone in the Embassy to organise a dress for me, and by then it was too late to get a different one.” She sounded breathless, and it took a moment for Nathan to realise a number of things about his sister; that the choice of dress wasn’t her decision, which would explain her foul mood, but she would wilfully use it to its full advantage. A part of him admired her for her deviousness and it was enough to throw Mark off his stride.
“No, I’m just surprised Nate brought you. I’m sorry, I’m being rude, of course you’re welcome,” Mark backtracked, feeling abashed as she tilted her head and smiled at him while allowing the shawl to slip again, which she did nothing to correct.
“You’re so sweet. Not at all how he described you,” she answered. Mark gave Nathan a concerned glance. “I jest,” she said, taking Mark’s arm instead as they entered. “He’s said nothing, about anyone. I’m walking in here not knowing a single person, and afraid I’ll make a show of myself.” She gave him a shy smile.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he tried to reassure her. “Although you both might have a lot of explaining to do.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Everyone who knows Nate, knows he’s an only child. Now he has a sister?”
“Imagine my surprise, and I didn’t believe him, but the DNA results were conclusive.”
“You’re in the Irish Embassy, yes?”
“Yes.”
“What do you do?” Mark asked, though he already knew, ignoring Nathan on the other side of her.
“I’m technical support,” she answered.
“Combat?”
“IT.”
“Like intelligence?”
“Like in computers, doing hardware upgrades, updating networks.” She continued to answer in that breathless tone.
“So you’re a nerd?”
“And proud of it.”
“You’re unlike any nerd I’ve ever known. Has he tried recruiting you yet?” Mark indicated to Nathan behind her.
“Shortly after I arrived here, when he ran me over in the corridor,” she confirmed.
“Yeah, Nate has a knack for spotting talent he can use,” Mark told her, and she glanced at her brother.
“Really?” she asked, in that girlish tone. “And I thought it was only because of the family connection.”
“Well of course I’d try to recruit someone of your calibre, and being family,” Nathan played along with her. She acted embarrassed at the compliment. Mark grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed her one, which she accepted with another demure smile. She hooked her arm around Mark’s again, and allowed him to guide her into the throng of people, introducing her to surprised and sceptical guests, but standing side-by-side with Nathan the resemblance was impossible to deny, only adding to her credibility. That she had the same ability to charm as Nathan endeared her to his more cynical business supporters and she won them over.
Back at the Embassy Donal and Tom listened to the conversations as they progressed into the evening, her bejewelled pendant hiding the listening device.
“She’s good,” Tom commented, but Donal only grunted, waiting for juicier intelligence to filter through, but making notes of everyone she spoke to, admiring how many names and details she extracted.
Nathan dropped her back later in the night, barely hiding his eagerness to ask her what she’d uncovered on his behalf.
“A lot of people think your grand social enhancement scheme is bullshit,” she said with glee, crushing his ego. “There’s one person, an old guy, that you and Mark kept me away from,” she added, noting his sharp intake of breath. “And your other friend Garrett was a bollocks to me, so either he’s not your friend…”
“Or?” Nathan asked.
“Well, my girls didn’t work on him,” she indicated her breasts, “so either he’s gay, or he suspects I was there for some nefarious reason, or he doesn’t like you.”
“Garrett has always been jealous of Mark and me coming from money.”
“You don’t come from money,” she deflated his ego further. “You came from a middle-class police officer who was clever with stocks and shares. And you know how I know that?” Deflated further he shook his head. “Because before he died, he did the same for me. You’re nothing special, Rainey,” she reverted to his surname, which he knew didn’t bode well. “There was nothing of value in that ball tonight, and a part of me wonders what you’re hiding and who you were trying to impress by bringing me there.”
“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” he defended himself.
“Bollocks,” she retorted, glaring at him.
He drove away from dropping her at the Embassy, perturbed at her inability to further his agenda or get any closer to helping him, and he returned home trying to figure out his next move.
Leigh waited until he pulled away from the Embassy before she entered, not surprised to find Donal still up and in his office. She stood at the threshold.
“Well?” she asked him.
“Good girl. You might be useful yet.”
She gave him an unenthusiastic glare.
“Glad to be of service to my country. And you can unzip this fucking dress,” she shot back.
CHAPTER 37
She didn’t wait for an answer to her courtesy knock before she entered Tom Lawlor’s domain. Unlike her wardrobe-sized space, this room housed eight desks, multiple project boards screwed to the interior wall, and a tea station. The gold and blue insignia of An Garda Síochána hung on the wall behind Tom’s desk.
“You know this is an operational Embassy, not a residential one?” he said, surprised to see her back in her green army fatigues. “I recall I assigned an apartment to you. Don’t you ever go home?”
“I will when I run out of work to do,” she answered. While everything about her was regulation neat and proper, not a strand of hair out of place from its tied knot at the back of her neck, he wondered if she’d slept since she returned from her foray. The darkening under her eyes told him she hadn’t.
“Good work at that ball,” he complimented her, but she shrugged it off, it was just another part of the job. “So I’m guessing you’re here for a reason.” His straight-to-the-point was a refreshing counterpoint to Adam’s usual tomfoolery, but the attacks subdued the other Commandant. She handed him a file, and he smirked as she adopted the army stance. He nodded towards a chair at the desk next to his, but she shook her head, she’d been sitting most of the night while trawling through online files. That stance eased the stiffness in her back and shoulders. He flicked through contents of the file, recognising the pictures of Mark Bradford and Garrett McGinty. He held up one of the other photos to her.
“Is this the old man they kept you away from?” he asked.
“Yeah. And he wasn’t easy to find. Have you encountered him before? Has he
ever popped up on your surveillance, or even on your radar?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“You think he’s a person of interest?”
“Definitely, from what I observed at that soiree. Rainey and Bradford did their damnedest to steer me away from him whenever I tried to get close. I couldn’t push it without being obvious or giving the game away. McGinty stayed close to him most of the night, and ran interference on people the old man didn’t want to talk to.”
“Like private security or a bodyguard?”
“McGinty doesn’t move like a trained bodyguard. This was more like a personal assistant keeping the riff-raff at arm’s length,” she said. He shuffled through the other papers in the file.
“Is this all you found on him?” he asked and she nodded.
“So far. Like I said, he wasn’t easy to find. There’s a file on him at Huntington, but it’s locked down, and I… ah…” she stalled.
“Got caught snooping?” he asked, but she smirked.
“Almost. Not even sure I got away cleanly.”
“Is that why you look like you need a week’s worth of sleep?”
“Only a week?” she asked. He nodded while reading the rest of the file, knowing she’d put in more hours than the rest of them.
“You want me to add him to the list for surveillance?”
“Can you just do that?”
His glance told her not to ask silly questions.
“If you believe he’s a person of interest and he’s connected to our investigation, then yes, I can,” he told her.
“I think the original reason I came here, and what you’re investigating, are linked,” she told him.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because that’s how I almost got caught, I hit a tagged file, and I got distracted when I found my dad’s name.”
“I looked up your old man’s Garda file. God, he could be a prick. A good Garda, but I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.”
