Rule 53

by Elaine Nolan

  “What? Why? I don’t need babysitting,” Leigh retorted.

  “I disagree,” Emily replied and Leigh got a hint of how she’d worked her way to Directorship. “With you now on the playing field, you’re fair game for anyone with a grudge against your father, or in retaliation for what you did to Lantry. Although I can’t imagine that list to be a long one.” At seeing Leigh’s continuing perplexed expression, Emily smirked. “Good to know I can surprise the person who surprises everyone else.”

  “Why confine Karl to just Ireland?” Leigh asked and Emily noted the deflection tactic.

  “Only the UK and America agreed to letting him go, although his criminal record…”

  “Alleged,” Leigh interjected.

  “Nothing alleged about it, his criminal record remains intact. Europol and Interpol only agreed not to pursue him on the conditions I’ve mentioned. Which leads me to the why of his disappearance. Tell me everything.” The request sounded friendly, but Leigh sensed a non-committal answer was unacceptable.

  “There’s nothing to tell. I got home from training to find a note saying he had to leave.”

  “Had to?” Emily probed and Leigh nodded. “Anything cryptic in his message?”

  “Nothing, he just said he couldn’t stay any longer.”

  “Where were you when he disappeared?”

  “You think I’m involved?”

  “No. I’m trying to piece together his reasons for having a bounty put back on his head. Again, where were you?”

  “I was at army boot camp.”

  “Interesting. Where?”

  “Bundoran.”

  “Very interesting. The best trained there, myself included.” Leigh recognised the ploy for what it was, rapport building, and Emily was excellent at it, Leigh realised. “And yet your new employers plan to have you sitting at a desk. What a waste of your resourcefulness and talents.” Ah, the flattery ploy, Leigh recognised, sitting back and crossing her arms.

  “I won’t be much use to you,” Leigh told her.

  “I disagree. You’re the only one who could find him.”

  “He hid for fifteen years after the murder of my parents. He’s well able to look after himself.”

  “Again, I disagree. I don’t believe he left of his own accord. I think he left to protect you.”

  “Haven’t you just contradicted yourself? First you say he’s watching over me, and the next he’s gone for the same reason.”

  “Sometimes the only way to protect someone is to draw the enemy away. Another way is to remove you from danger, with… say… a desk job.” Leigh understood what the Director implied.

  “What’s the real reason you need to find him?” she asked, and the Director smirked again.

  “Good girl,” she answered, but there was no hint of arrogance or condescension, more a tone of pride. “You’re as devious as your file shows. It’s a skill and trait I find useful.”

  “It has its uses,” Leigh answered, and Emily laughed.

  “You and I are going to get along quite well.”

  “That’s a huge assumption considering I don’t work for you, despite that regulation bullshit you threw at me.”

  “It’s far from bullshit, and right now your department has agreed to let you work for me. Call it a secondment, a British-Irish cooperation, for the greater good.”

  “And you call me devious?”

  “You’ve a lot more to learn, Leigh.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Karl clutched the wound in his side as he ran. Even though he’d removed the bullet and did his best to patch himself up, running this hard was likely to undo his efforts and start the bleeding again. His safe house in New York turned out not to be. Despite his extensive security measures, someone broke in, most likely during the weather-induced riots. His security safe and armoury remained hidden and untouched, his sizable financial stash intact. He had places dotted around the world. He needed the one in New York this time. To make matters worse, it wasn’t his own past coming back to haunt him this time, but Lee’s, because Lee broke one of his own cardinal rules and acted out of character.

  Lee had a list, a set of rules to abide by, written in a notebook. That notebook sat in his office in Pembroke, Carlow, now three thousand miles away. A list of fifty-two rules Lee developed over a lifetime. Some were light-hearted, like rule number 10; it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Karl always wondered if it related to Lee’s foray into the deviant world of BDSM where permissions were the one absolute, and punishment a part of the enjoyment. Other rules consisted of axioms from such luminaries as Einstein and Aristotle; Lee Harte was a well-read man with diverse interests and tastes. Discreet too, usually; he walked along a thin line between right and wrong, but one night, many years ago, his moral compass took a detour. One that could now cost Karl his life, only because he had the misfortune of being associated with Lee Harte.

  Whoever broke into his apartment left sensors behind, to detect his arrival, and from whom he now ran. They tried to ambush him, but he escaped, shot at and injured as he ran with bullet holes in his side.

  Lee and his fucking rules.

  CHAPTER 6

  Working with Walters didn’t appear to involve proximity, and Leigh felt like a pawn in another great game. After several project briefings, including video conferences with the Irish intelligence base in Newbridge, Leigh sensed Karl’s disappearance wasn’t an idle move, discovering he’d tried to contact someone, anyone at Huntington to raise an alarm. He’d used an old code word that triggered many alarm bells within the Agency and set protocols into play despite being decades old.

  That explained the Huntington connection, but not why he left, leaving a message too cryptic for even Leigh to figure out. It continued to play on her mind, like an earworm. If she could decipher her dad’s stuff, she could work out Karl’s. Adept in coding in his own right, he was still nowhere near the complexities at which Leigh or Lee operated.

  She revisited his cryptic puzzle in the days following her redeployment, this time to the Irish Embassy in Washington, and her arrival hidden as part of the security detail rotation. It made her insertion into the still turbulent country less obvious or suspect. Again, she marvelled at Director Walter’s efficiency at orchestrating it, securing the necessary agreements and cooperation.

  Her cover story was simple, and mostly true; considering recent hacking attempts to most Irish government websites, she’d review and oversee IT upgrades. The attempted hacks were a regular occurrence, looking for any weakness to break into and gain access to the European Visa programme. A European-wide problem, the Irish Embassy wasn’t the only target, and so far no real breaches occurred. Leigh’s own encryption lay as the last line of defence to the visas.

  Her deployment to Washington brought her another dilemma; it brought her closer to Jake and she deliberated calling him, talking herself out of doing so every time the notion crossed her mind. Given her reasons for being here, she didn’t think he’d be open to meeting for coffee and a catch-up. Besides, the heads of senior intelligence officers would spin at the thoughts of two agents, from two different countries ‘just having a chat’. And if she bumped into him? She’d just have to handle that if it happened, which the mischievous Fates soon conspired against her, and quicker than she hoped for, or expected.

  CHAPTER 7

  As her first time deployed to the Embassy, Donal Brennan, the guy running things behind the scenes, felt it his duty to give her the time-honoured traditional indoctrination speech. It made Brian Dawson’s induction speech short and sweet. She tried being gracious as she needed the ability to work with autonomy here. His twenty-seven slide presentation on how the Embassy operated ended in a question and answers session, and slyly slipped in questions on why she was really there, and she began to wonder if the tedious presentation and lecture was his form of torture, designed to weaken her resolve and make her blurt out secrets.

  “Why are you here, Miss Harte?” he asked.


  “To fix your computer systems,” she answered, sticking to her script.

  “We have our own IT people.”

  “I’m better.” He noted her direct reply, and without a hint of gloating, enough to make him almost believe her, but too many years at this job taught him to not judge on outward appearances.

  “Normally, they confine personnel sent from the Department of Defence to the army.”

  “Given the upheaval of the past year, I’d hardly call anything normal anymore.”

  “True,” he conceded. “You’ve received army training?”

  She hesitated, not sure where he was going with the question, but she decided on answering honestly, for the moment. That was one of her dad’s rules, a list of fifty-two of them she’d found while meticulously cataloguing the contents of his hideaway office. This one was number twenty-three, if she wasn’t mistaken, a quote by Abraham Lincoln; honesty was almost always the best policy.

  “I’ve had training,” she admitted.

  “Good,” he answered. “I prefer it when my operatives tell me the truth and can take care of themselves.”

  “Your… operatives?”

  “Harte, you didn’t think they’d let you off a leash, given your reputation.”

  “You’re my handler?”

  “Well, you’re astute, I’ll grant you.”

  “And what reputation?”

  “Oh, let’s see, your inability to work with others, your creative, if unusual, methods.”

  “What was the purpose of the presentation?” she challenged.

  “Even as an operative, you still need to keep your cover as an Embassy employee. If you’ve been paying even the slightest bit of attention, you should be able to describe what we do here in more detail than the bumph in the brochures.”

  “Good thing I paid attention.” He noted the sarcasm and wondered how much of a handful she’d be.

  “I’ve another reason for the training question,” he added. “We’ve a formal dinner scheduled for two days’ time, and I’m missing at least one person on the security team. I’ll need you to step in, if you’ve had training.” It sounded like a mild taunt.

  “Like a bouncer on the door? I’ve done that, I can even pull a pint or two.”

  “It’s more refined than nightclub security. As a show of appreciation for the cooperation between the two countries, we’re hosting this dinner, with a long list of dignitaries to protect. I’d prefer to bolster security on our side than allow more Secret Service personnel to crawl around the place.”

  “And sticking their noses in where they don’t belong?”

  “You catch on fast. As you’ve said, these are not normal times anymore.”

  “Do you have a copy of the guest list?”

  “Do you think you’ll recognised anyone on it?”

  “I might.”

  “Senator Wilma Swayne, for example?”

  She was getting a measure of this man and reckoned she’d lose every hand to him in poker. Good thing she didn’t play. He continued.

  “After the Canadian Embassy bombing, every other country tightened security around theirs. With the visa applications to migrate to Europe funnelled and vetted through here, we had to carry out more stringent security measures. The Secret Service used to be our only security but, given everything…”

  “Better to trust our own people,” she finished, and he smirked.

  “And who better than the person stopping the hackers from gaining illegal entry.”

  “So my claim at being a better programmer wasn’t an idle one.”

  “And modest too.” If he intended it as a jibe, it didn’t show.

  “Modesty doesn’t win clients, or contracts. Working in the private sector and for yourself differs from public service.”

  “I’m sure it must appear that way,” he answered, not convinced, or he’d heard the argument too many times. “So, security detail. Yes or no?”

  “Sure, why not,” she answered, but sensed her acceptance was a mere formality.

  CHAPTER 8

  She recognised more than Swayne’s name on the list, and surprised not to see Jake’s name, but she’d been hasty; she’d only checked the dignitary’s list. His name appeared on the list of US security personnel, and it set off an unsettled feeling in her stomach. The Senator had a soft spot for him, her strong maternal side coming to the fore. Leigh knew it wasn’t a one-sided affair either; Jake cared for the woman just as much. He just didn’t show it.

  Brennan assigned her the tedious task of screening the attendees, high profile or otherwise, and the more high-flying, the deeper the probing. Questions always surrounded someone who rose to prominence with ease. It was never easy, or quick, even for the latest public icons on that list, including actors, artists and musicians attending. The checks showed a history of failed or lack-lustre performances, some recent, but in the upheaval people didn’t escape reality in the usual way. With the ever-growing bomb threats at concerts or movie theatres, attendances declined significantly. Add in cyber shenanigans and piracy downloads and box office profits were hit hard.

  She grimaced as she checked the actor Jackson Logue, considering him a brave man to enter the Embassy of the country whose accent he murdered in one of his more recent films. His agent’s press release had him back in the US promoting his latest offering. That they filmed it in Ireland guaranteed him an invitation.

  Other noteworthy names under scrutiny included property developers and similar moguls, promising to rebuild America bigger and better than before. But the more seasoned and sensible voices, like Swayne’s, appeared determined to have the job done right and reigned in attempts to exploit the situation financially.

  One name jumped out and rang more bells than the others; Nathan Rainey, the latest shooting star to emerge from the global upheaval. Anyone rising that fast didn’t do so without leaving casualties or bodies in their wake, but either he’d covered his tracks well, or he was as squeaky clean as he appeared. His business record began after attending a prestigious American university, starting with small but notable ventures. But his roots lay in Belfast. Another Irish connection, though north of the border. His picture showed a good looking man, looking younger than his late thirties, and she found him unsettlingly familiar. While Brennan said nothing outright to her, he mentioned Rainey several times, enough for her to pay attention, and she suspected he was testing her, seeing if her modest boasts were just that; modest, but lacking substance. He confirmed her hunch when she’d asked why Rainey was so special. Brennan unhelpfully replied; “You tell me.”

  In her characteristic resolve, she included a search of him in Huntington’s files, intrigued as she found a file reference. No file, just the reference number. Her foray into their database triggered a polite demand from Walters via an online message, wanting to know why, and if Rainey led to Karl’s disappearance. Leigh replied that it was a possibility, but refrained from giving further details. But if Rainey was on Huntington files, then there was much more to the suave entrepreneur than his social media suggested.

  The pre-party prep included security sweeps around the perimeter. Since the Canadian bombing even the lax Irish approach changed. As the entry point for European access, their European counterparts considered them vulnerable, so they subtly put measures in place. No point in overreacting either. Besides, a knee-jerk reaction gave off the wrong signals.

  Leigh stayed indoors, happy to be out of the evening drizzle. Uniformed Army personnel stood at obvious strategic points, more for show, and to prove the Irish took the warnings, alerts and threats seriously. She dressed in a dark suit, as did the rest of the plain clothes team, a discreet presence, and it ensured they blended in with the Secret Service. The only variance was the pin, the US flag the Secret Service wore in the jacket lapels. Other, more subtle differences included key warning words in Irish, just in case anyone else eavesdropped on their communications channel. Another thing Leigh had a crash course in while training in Bundoran
; learning her native language again.

  Because of her mild dyslexia, undiagnosed for most of her childhood, learning other languages proved disastrous. With more modern techniques and teaching methods, she picked it up better this time around, and so long as she didn’t have to read or translate Irish text, she could hold a basic conversation, if pushed. In the world of undercover and espionage, an obscure minority language gave a slight edge.

  As a floater, she’d no single spot to observe from, and she wondered if Brennan was testing her again, using this to assess her abilities. She picked her starting location, a vantage point just beyond the entrance and reception where she could see everyone who entered, before they saw her.

  Senator Wilma Swayne’s glance back to Jake gave Leigh his location, and despite Leigh’s attire blending in to stay inconspicuous, the Senator spotted her at once, giving her a tight smile that Leigh tried to interpret, but with Swayne, that smile could mean anything. The woman kept her thoughts hidden. Leigh acknowledged her with a nod before scanning the rest of the room, finding Jake again as he continued to scan the other guests rather than the Embassy’s security team. Besides, the Irish were still allies, what concerns had he? Until he spotted her, and contrary to Swayne’s inscrutable expression, his spoke volumes. Unable to hide his shock then annoyance, he circled away from her, which she had to admit hurt but she couldn’t blame him either, knowing he needed time to contend with her being here. She knew the cogs in his mind whirled, trying to figure out why. Give him time, she thought, trying not to dwell on it, and returned to the task at hand, scanning the newer arrivals, politicians who gravitated towards Swayne, her strong moral stance now a guiding light for the values Americans wanted to rebuild.