by Elaine Nolan
“If that isn’t valid grounds for your divorce, I don’t know what is,” he told her, but she was in no mood for his sardonic jokes, and felt sickened to her stomach. Tom had the sense to drop it and left to write up the latest episode in this never-ending drama. She holstered her weapon, concealed behind her shirt, and tucked the shirt ends back in, but stayed staring at the door, glaring at it. Adam put his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.
CHAPTER 66
Swayne found the volume of documentation overwhelming. She became lost despite help from her investigative team. They divided up the various aspects among themselves, writing their own summaries and brought it together in one final report. Even condensed the complexity baffled Swayne, and considering the source, she wasn’t convinced Rainey was as innocent as the documentation made him seem.
“Could they have deleted documents?” she asked.
“Our own analysts scrutinised the electronic copy, and along with the chain of evidence and discovery documentation, we don’t think so,” her lead investigator told her.
“Rainey was the man who sold this disastrous plan to the board, he needs to be made an example of.”
“But if he’s not guilty…”
“That doesn’t mean he’s innocent either,” she snapped back. “He wilfully participated in this conspiracy, and he’s gotten his sister to cover his ass. It’s in the public interest that we’re seen to be proactive, and to prosecute someone for it.”
“But he’s cooperated with us, and he’s the one who’s gotten this information we’re relying on, at great personal risk from the sounds of it.”
“He’s a smoke-and-mirrors showman, nothing more than a snake-oil salesman.” The Marshall bit back a retort at how Rainey had convinced the Senator. “And how did you fail to secure Rainey?” she continued.
“The Irish cling to their military neutrality that we didn’t anticipate their level of resistance or coming up against the extent of their firepower. And then Harte emerged from their conference room armed.”
“Jake didn’t prove a distraction?”
“Maybe if you clued him in on the plan, it might have worked better.” She shook her head.
“I didn’t think he would’ve agreed to it. He has a lot of principles at the most inopportune times.”
“For what it’s worth, Harte thinks he was in on it, seemed furious with him.”
“Hmm,” she mused, leaning back in her executive chair.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“The drive the Irish have, any idea what else was on it?” Her annoyance grew further as he shook his head. “And how did she find your programmes?”
“She was supposed to find the first one, any analyst would suspect and look, we underestimated her skill.”
“You read our file on her, how could you underestimate her?”
“Because it only claimed she was a mid-level programmer.”
“And solely responsible for the entire security of the Euro visa access. Did that not clue you in?”
“There are many off-the-shelf security software programmes available. Any mid-level programmer could adapt and tweak. But she’s not mid-level, she’s hacker-level and working as the communications and information specialist. That’s her actual and official title, a key appointment in a foreign government.”
“And after seeing her in action?” she asked.
“I’d have to say she poses a potential threat to our national security, if she ever set her sights on us,” he concluded, and for the first time since sitting down to this briefing in her office, she smiled.
“Now you know why I’m worried about Jake, and why I’m trying to keep him out of this, but…” He waited her out. “Can we use him to find out what else was on that drive?” she mused but couldn’t hide her disappointment as he shook his head.
“I’d have a number of issues with that. You’re deliberately setting up one of our own agents, a good one at that, and setting him up for some serious allegations under the Patriot Act. I can tell you from our surveillance that he’s not a traitor, and she hasn’t tried to turn him, their bizarre sex thing aside. They’re not sharing secrets, and what they are sharing is via official channels and through the Embassy. And for another thing, Mount Rainier is ready to blow. I’ve been following the geologist reports and they’re saying it will be more powerful, more violent than Mount St Helens’ when it erupts. Do you want to continue pissing off the people we’ll need when the time comes for more evacuations to Europe? In case you’ve forgotten, we need these people.”
“I’m well aware of the arrangements, I put them in place,” she snapped back.
“Then why poke the pissed off bear?” he asked, but she didn’t answer. “Look, the Irish have given us everything on this land grab conspiracy, and as you read, it’s not just about property, it’s also banking controls, money laundering, media control, you name it. Let’s go after the people we can get a conviction with. If the rest of the intel on the drive were relevant, I’m sure the Irish would’ve handed it over. My educated guess is whatever else is on the drive is pertinent to Ireland or maybe the EU, and they’d be in breach of their own secrecy laws. Because of the EU-US Treaty, which you negotiated, you already know there’s an agreement to share intel relevant to the US. And that Irish cop seems a stickler for regulations. If he didn’t share it, then it’s none of our business.”
As much as she hated to admit it, his assessment made sense, but dammit, she still wanted to know what else was on that drive. She put it to the back of her mind.
“And you’re sure you can get convictions for the other two players…” she shuffled through pages to get the names.
“Bradford and McGinty,” he answered for her. “Yes, there’s enough evidence to indict them both on fraud, conspiracy to defraud and money laundering. We can tie it to the act of terrorism in the city.”
“And this evidence from the Irish, will stand up in court?”
“It’s as good as that obnoxious Irish cop giving the evidence himself.”
“Then you know what to do,” she instructed and dismissed him, then returned to pondering how to get the rest of the information on the drive.
CHAPTER 67
“This is fucked up,” Donal said.
“Tell me about it,” she answered as they both stood looking at the intricate web on the large screen in the conference room. Colour coded virtual lines criss-crossed the display, a map of the various connections and differing levels. In layers, each stacked atop the other, it built an horrific picture of who and what this conglomerate, The Red Hand, was.
It was an empire, and one that pre-dated the British Military Intelligence Unit, or MI6 as it became known. But MI6 used them, funded them in an effort to keep Ireland under British rule, back in the days when the Separatists were advocating for Home Rule, worrying those in British power, and not just the UK government. Others had a vested interest in the Home Rule Movement, and not always in the best interest of the movement. Spies were deployed on both sides, not just to gather information, but to also create dissent, discord and it didn’t matter if it was to agitate those wishing to stay under UK rule or those wanting autonomous control. Instability was profitable. So what if it caused chaos in the everyday lives of ordinary people, there was profit to be had from them too. War, internal strife were just another economy. The references to commodities still puzzled them though. They found, tracked and traced other merchandise, the drugs, armaments, but the meaning behind that single word continued to elude them, and as a high value item, it troubled them. Leigh pulled at her bottom lip, an action he noticed she did when she was deep in thought and figuring the puzzle out.
“McGregor said something about the winners being the business men behind the wars, and he wasn’t joking,” she mused.
“We’ve got funds being diverted from around the world, and through bank accounts we can’t track. It connects organisations to organised crime syndicates, financing of t
error groups throughout Europe, and funding both nationalist and opposition socialist parties. This is just… fucked up,” he confirmed and she nodded, but barely heard him. Using the connected tablet, she tilted the display to show the many layers to this, a 3D view with more lines between the levels, and showing how far the interconnected organisations went back in history to each other.
A text message popped up in the screen's corner.
“From lover boy?” Donal asked, but she frowned as she read it. “Can we play? Your place. Pineapple.” he read out. “What does that mean? I take it play is… that thing…”
“Yes, it’s called play,” she confirmed.
“And presumably at your place,”
“So it would seem, probably to avoid potential surveillance at his.”
“And pineapple?”
“It’s a code word, we use them as safe words.”
“But… pineapple?”
“They’re words you wouldn’t say in a conversation, or wouldn’t come naturally when in play, like please, no, and stop. We ignore those words in play. Some people use traffic light colours, but when the ultimate safe word is used, all play has to stop. It’s a tacit agreement between both parties.”
“So what’s wrong with the message?” he asked, worried at her fierce expression.
“Something’s wrong. Jake and I use a confirmation code word, one for him to say he’s ready or willing to play, or use when he’s… feeling brave and looking to play, but pineapple is not it. That’s his stop-this-now safe word.”
“He’s sending a message within the message?,” he offered, and she nodded.
“Probably the only way he knows without giving the game away,” she guessed.
“The Senator?”
“Most likely.”
“The intel on the drive,” he guessed. “They know you worked on it, he’s the obvious choice to work you.” She nodded again, furious again, but now knowing he had no part in what happened with the US Marshalls. Giving her the wrong code word proved that to her. “What’s your plan?” he asked. She sat at the table and pulled the keyboard towards her and hit reply.
Niagara Falls. Sorry babes, they have me burning the midnight oil on this thing. Talk laters, she typed.
“Niagara Falls?” he asked.
“Another of his words, the confirmation word when he doesn’t want to play. And if you ever let him know you know, or even use them on him, I will whip you to a messy pulp,” she threatened, and he believed her.
“So what are your words?” he asked.
“I don’t have any. The words are all for his protection. I’m rarely the one in the submissive role.” Another statement he had no difficulty believing.
“And babes? I would never figure you for a gushy sentimentalist,” he said and she chuckled.
“I’m not, but this way it’ll look cute and almost normal.”
“Almost normal?”
“Like I can do normal?”
“Can’t disagree with that.”
A reply to her message popped up on screen.
Polkadot. Pity, needed stress relief after the day I’ve had.
“Wasn’t that his thumb drive password? Another code word?” Donal asked, and she nodded, smirking.
“Someone’s putting pressure on him,” she confirmed.
“You got that from that message?”
“Jake doesn’t get stressed. He’s a solutions guy, he deals with it, or lets it go if he can’t.”
“Sounds like he takes the dog approach,” he joked but she didn’t get it. “If he can’t eat it or fuck it, piss on it and walk away,” he explained and she chuckled again.
Adam entered without knocking, startling both of them.
“Sorry to barge in, but you really need to see this,” he said, reaching for the TV satellite remote. “Can you change the screen over to the TV?” She did so, minimising their other work, and he skipped through channels to get to one of the international news stations and the reporter on the scene.
“They finally brought the blaze under control in the early hours of this morning, after an intense and lengthy battle by the West Lothian fire brigade. It was believed that this old records storage for the Home Office which, we were told, contained pre-war files and records; dry, dusty paper, which all-in-all was a tinderbox accident waiting to happen. The fire investigators attempted to find or recover any bodies, and have confirmed three lives were lost in the blaze, one of whom is thought to be the director here at Huntington, who it’s thought, tried to tackle the fire as it started, but it’s now clear her efforts were futile and she likely succumbed to the smoke and heat. We await further update from the West Lothian Fire Commissioner.”
Leigh was glad she was already sitting, but felt the blood drain from her body.
“What the fuck have we stumbled on?” Donal asked.
CHAPTER 68
Donal disconnected the call, and looked around the table.
“They have sanctioned it,” he told them. “DFHQ have authorised you to … do your thing,” he told Leigh.
“By do her thing, you mean hack,” Tom clarified.
“It’s an authorised incursion into electronic enemy territory, a decision based on recent events and their preliminary assessment of the contents of the hard drive. They’re worried,” Donal answered. “And I’ll help where I can,” he added, noting her eyebrow twitch, a sign of mild surprise. “The Brits lodged an informal complaint about the last time you hit Huntington files.”
“Only informal?” Tom asked.
“They’ve no proof, but they know it was her, and the UK Home Office have made an unofficial demand for any files Director Walters handed over.”
“So they don’t know if she did?” Leigh asked.
“I’m guessing they know she sent something, they just don’t know what. They can’t admit it without drawing attention to themselves, and trigger an internal investigation into Walters’ death, and why she died.”
“And what are we looking for, officially?” Leigh asked.
“DFHQ will send us a list of key search parameters, and the rest is anything we can find on McGregor and the Red Hand. That you almost got caught the last time means several things. First, those files exist, and second, that they’re a high priority if they’re tagged. We get in and out fast, and search for as much information as possible.”
“I’ve a few encryption tracing programs we can use. I’ll set up a network of proxy IP sites to divert through, that should keep them bouncing around the world for a while, if you want to monitor that while I deep dive into their systems?” she offered.
“Sounds good,” he answered, catching the knowing smirks exchanged between Tom and Adam. Donal turned his attention to the pair. “Swayne’s office have given us an update.”
“Very kind of them,” Tom remarked in his usual sardonic tone.
“They arrested Bradford last night, but he’s claiming Rainey set him up, and skewed evidence against him. The Fed’s aren’t buying into it, but they have follow-up questions for Rainey.”
“And?” Adam asked.
“The Senator’s reconvening her Hearing in light of the new evidence, and for turning State’s evidence she’s given assurances, in writing, that they won’t arrest or make a grab for Rainey.”
“Truth, justice and the American way wins again,” Tom said, making no effort to hide the sarcasm this time. “She’s got someone else she can prosecute for what happened, and look good for her next election campaign.”
“And the truth will set you free,” Adam added. “Are we letting him go to the Hearing?”
“We’ll bring him,” Donal answered, seeing a look of relief on Leigh’s face. “Tom, make sure he’s prepped for this. I want no more surprises where Rainey’s concerned. Of late, the Senator’s promises and actions haven’t been in alignment. Adam, I’m sending you and your sergeant as the army escort for Mr Rainey. Your sergeant is a close enough resemblance to Leigh to unnerve them, and we know how
much the Senator loves Leigh.”
“You’re actually quite evil sometimes,” she commented.
“And?” he challenged, but she smirked and shrugged.
“Nothing, I like it. I find it reassuring and a little bit deviant, for you,” she answered. He wasn’t sure how to take it, but Tom did.
“This have anything to do with that freaky kinky shit of yours?” he asked. “Seriously, what is it?”
“I like the way it hurts,” she answered, conscious of everyone’s attention on what she preferred to keep private.
“Why would someone do that?” Tom pressed.
“What if I told you that the receptors in the brain, for pleasure or pain, were the same? The brain can’t tell the difference, it’s only your perception of what’s happening that classifies it as a good thing or a bad thing,” she answered to their growing scepticism, although Donal seemed genuinely interested.
“Please don’t tell me it’s this positive mental attitude crap,” Tom said.
“I wouldn’t dare, nor is it. If it’s done properly you can get a natural high from, it makes orgasms more intense, gives a feeling of bliss, and allows for an emotional release.”
“A natural high? From beating the shit out of someone?”
She sighed and shook her head.
“It’s not a pub brawl, not even close, and the intention is not to beat the shit out of someone, that’s assault.”
“Technically that’s classified as Assault Causing Harm.”
“Thank you for the clarification, Garda Lawlor. But the aim isn’t to harm, although it will hurt. And it’s not about sex. For most couples it’s about… trusting each other, honest trust, giving each other pleasure, and surrendering and letting go in a safe environment. And it’s an escape, a harmless escape. Painful, but harmless.”
“And lover boy gets off on this? What about you?”
“I get pleasure from giving him pleasure.”
“You really love him, don’t you,” it came out more of a statement than a question. “Was it like that for you, when you were learning this stuff?”