The Conor McBride Series Books 1-3

by Kathryn Guare

  “I owe you an apology, Conor.”

  “An apology?” Startled, Conor turned his gaze from the view, a sea of nondescript apartment buildings as far as the eye could see. “What for?”

  “For failing to provide back-up. If I’d remained where I should have been, we’d have kept Karl in the room, possibly Petra as well.”

  Conor suppressed a bemused laugh. Of all the things Frank might have apologized for—and he could think of a few—this was a transgression that didn’t require it. “Maybe,” he said, opting for a light tone, “but then I’d never have had the fun of throwing myself off a balcony.”

  “You might easily have been killed.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Conor put his back against the railing and crossed his arms, studying the stark expression on his boss’s face. “Ah go on, for fuck’s sake. The person you love took a bullet and hit the floor like he was dead. If you’d ignored him to do your job I could never have looked you in the eye again. It made me think there’s hope for you after all. Don’t apologize for it.”

  Frank’s jaw clenched and it was a long time before he spoke again. “The bullet barely grazed his face. Hardly more than a paper cut. I keep saying it to myself and wondering how it’s even possible he’s alive. Something so deadly, so close, when only a millimeter in the other direction, the smallest change in angle …” He trailed off and glanced at Conor with the hint of a smile. “I wonder am I getting too old for this? I know you think the ice gets thicker and harder over time, but you’re quite wrong. It thins, becomes brittle. It cracks open, and things you never expected to see begin to slip through.”

  “And that’s all right.” Conor put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him from the railing and steering him back towards the hospital. “You know, Frank, in Vermont they’ve a word for that. They call it ‘spring.’”

  It was small and humble, and the heating vent rattled, but to Kate their modest little hotel room felt like the sanctified antechamber of heaven. Before falling asleep she’d extracted a promise from Conor that he wouldn’t abandon her at some ungodly hour of the morning. She got her wish, but it came at a price. Earlier than she was ready for, Kate felt his lips moving over her, coaxing her awake. Lying with her back to him, she stretched and responded with a less than amorous groan.

  “Does that mean stop?” Conor paused, resting his chin on her shoulder.

  “I’m not sure. What time is it?”

  “It’s nearly eight o’clock, Kate. The day’s half gone, so it is.”

  “Good heavens, eight o’clock.” She gasped in mock horror then fell stubbornly silent. He gave her a minute before venturing another tentative kiss on the back of her neck.

  Kate surrendered and rolled over to him. “You are hopelessly diurnal.”

  He grinned and slid a hand between her legs. “Jayz, I love it when you talk dirty.”

  Her snort of laughter sent them into successive fits of it, but eventually Conor got back to more serious business, putting to good use the hour of sleep he’d robbed from her.

  Later, while she was getting her breath back, he leaned on one elbow next to her and wiped a bead of perspiration from her forehead with his thumb.

  “Will I need a tetanus shot, do you suppose?” he asked.

  Lying on her back and massaging an area near his neck, Kate lifted her head to give it a closer look. “The skin’s not broken. I think it’s going to be bruised though. God, I’m so sorry. Does it hurt?”

  “Ah, will you ever stop now. Of course it doesn’t hurt, I was only having you on. But I don’t understand why you were so worried.”

  “A woman screaming in a hotel room can mean a lot of things. I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

  He considered this, lips pursed. “Okay. Fair enough.”

  Kate gave his shoulder a final rub and ran her fingers down over his chest. “What are we going to do today?”

  Conor looked surprised, then thoughtful. “Good question.”

  It could have been a joke, but as she’d intended, he took it seriously. Although she felt a nagging sense of incompletion, it seemed the covert aspect of their trip had ended. They’d fulfilled their contract—in a manner of speaking—and the mission was over. Ghorbani would eventually be allowed to go home—Frank couldn’t hold him indefinitely—and MI6 would lick its wounds before moving on to some dubious new project. Their “enhanced” mission to help Sonia, with all its twists and turns, was also finished. She was safe at the British Embassy with Leo, and only Frank knew whether she’d soon be on her way to London or not.

  As a bonus accomplishment, they’d helped to restore civility between the British and Czech intelligence services. Using information provided by Sonia, the BIS had already begun dismantling the New Přemyslids network. They’d arrested more than a dozen members in Prague and surrounding cities as part of their investigation into further plots against government figures.

  At the tangled center of it all, the scandalous story of the Labuts—the murder and intrigue, the sheer depravity—would be fodder for the media for months to come. The only loose end remaining was Petra, still missing as far as they knew, but it wasn’t their job to find her. That burden would fall on the police, and possibly on the shoulders of a friend.

  “I wonder what Lukas is doing today,” Conor said, as though reading her thoughts. “He was collecting intelligence on Petra, so I imagine he’s under some obligation to help search for her. Maybe we should offer to help. What do you think?”

  Kate had entertained the crazy notion they might spend the day like normal people—maybe visit a museum, have a long lunch, pass a few more luxurious hours in bed—but she shared Conor’s sympathy for Lukas. He hadn’t enjoyed the assignment of seducing Petra and had grown fond of her. She imagined he was feeling even more conflicted about it now.

  “You should call him,” Kate said. “I don’t know how helpful we can be, but I’m sure he’d appreciate the moral support.”

  Conor placed the call while she was in the shower, and when she came out he had surprising news.

  “He’s heard from her. Petra rang him at five this morning.”

  “And?”

  “He wouldn’t talk about it on the phone, but you were right about the moral support. I’d say he nearly collapsed with relief when he heard my voice—said he’d thought about getting in touch but didn’t want to drag us into the whole business in case it went badly.”

  “What whole business?”

  “That’s what he wouldn’t talk about,” Conor reminded her, patiently. “He’s coming by in an hour. I told him we’d be in the dining room, if I don’t fall down dead from hunger before we get there.”

  It was a beautiful, warm morning and Kate persuaded the restaurant manager to serve them an after-hours breakfast in a sunny corner of the terrace, where the Castle Guard officer found them an hour later. Looking haggard and subdued, he refused any food but drank several cups of coffee while they talked. Sitting with his arms on the table, Lukas wrapped his large hands around the fragile china cup, cradling it gently.

  “I don’t think she’d ever planned to kill him, but I think Petra had been thinking about escaping from her situation for a long time. She called me on a burner phone from a studio apartment she’s been renting for months. She said it was in a city outside the Czech Republic, but who knows in what direction? There are five countries within a four-hour drive of Prague, and she’s traveling under a different passport. Apparently, Martin had complete identities created for both of them a few years ago, in case his own went sour.”

  “Sounds like she won’t be easy to track down,” Conor said. “Have you any ideas for how to go about it?”

  “Apparently, I don’t need any.” Lukas sat back in his chair, regarding them with his palms flat against the table. “She could probably stay under the radar and avoid capture for a while—years, maybe—but the longer I talked to her, the more I realized she doesn’t want to get away with it. I
think maybe Petra wants a chance to tell her story, and it’s possible she might get some leniency from the court once her side of it is told. I’ve convinced her to turn herself in, but only if I promise to meet one condition.”

  “Leo?” Kate asked.

  Lukas nodded. “She was relieved to hear he was safe with Sonia at the Embassy but wants to see him before she’s arrested.”

  “No surprise there,” Conor said. “Will the police go for it?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I wasn’t intending to tell them about it.” Kate and Conor exchanged an uneasy glance and the officer gave them a rueful smile. “You don’t approve of that decision, I guess.”

  Before responding, Conor paused to thank their server and accept the bill. He scowled at it for a moment, then turned his attention back to Lukas. “We’re only thinking it’s a risky decision, mate. Risky for you, that is.”

  “Point taken, but I’m willing to accept the risk and the responsibility.” Lukas sat forward again, appealing to them both. “Petra’s not a terrorist or serial killer, but this a big case and the police will respond with everything they’ve got. I’d just like to bring her in peacefully, and this might be a way to do that. I could really use your help, if you’re willing.”

  Conor shifted his eyes to Kate. He was giving her the opportunity to refuse for them both, knowing full well she’d do no such thing. They’d been running since the day they’d arrived, and there was no point in stopping now. That was the collateral effect when a mission grew complicated: there were no shortcuts to the finish line, and it wasn’t always easy to know when you’d reached it.

  29

  In the opinion of both Conor and Lukas, Sonia presented the greatest obstacle to their plans. Getting her agreement to allow access to Leo seemed unlikely, especially since Petra had flatly refused to meet them at the British Embassy.

  “She wants to name the location herself,” Lukas had explained, “but she won’t tell me where until I’ve confirmed Leo will be there.”

  Lingering at their table on the terrace he and Conor spent the better part of the next hour anticipating Sonia’s arguments and coming up with ideas to counter them, while Kate listened with thinly veiled frustration. For all the virtues she had in abundance, patience was one she possessed in short supply. She was sitting with her legs crossed, one foot jiggling in midair, and Conor could see she’d grown restless with the discussion. When she adjusted her chair, irritably scraping it over the pavement, he looked at her in exasperation.

  “Bloody hell, Kate. It’s an open conversation. If you’ve something to add you needn’t sit there looking fit to burst.”

  “You’re making too much of this, and the clock is ticking.” Kate uncrossed her leg and let her shoe hit the pavement with a slap.

  “You think Sonia will cooperate?” Lukas asked.

  “Yes, I do, but we’ll never know if we just sit here wondering.” Kate stood up and took her shoulder bag from the back of the chair. “I’m going to the British Embassy to ask her. Who’s coming with me?”

  They followed in meek obedience, and on the way to the Embassy Kate described the approach she thought would work. By the time they arrived, she’d convinced Conor and Lukas to let her conduct the meeting alone. While she waited for Sonia in the drawing room, the Embassy’s day-time concierge—a matronly woman far more hospitable than the suspicious night manager—served glasses of lemonade and invited “the gentlemen” to enjoy theirs in the sunny back garden.

  As soon as Conor stepped out the back door, he felt as if a beam of heat was moving up his back and over his neck, and he remembered the same thing happening when he’d been at the Embassy two nights earlier. He’d been in the dark, looking out the window just before Frank had arrived and switched on the lights. It was the garden. For some reason it perturbed him. Having a blurry form of second sight seemed like the worst of all possible worlds, and the mystery of this current aversion annoyed him, but it was strong enough to make him hesitate on the steps leading down to the stone walkway.

  “Something wrong?” Lukas asked, looking back at him

  “Probably, but I’m never sure.” Conor waved off his anxious curiosity with a smile of apology. “Leave it, so. If the picture ever clears I’ll share the news.”

  Within half an hour the private meeting had ended. As Kate approached across the grass with Sonia at her side, Conor could tell from her placid air of reassurance the negotiation had been a success. In this case, her instincts had been better than his own.

  Sonia had responded to Kate’s appeal for compassion, and to the argument that with only a few adjustments her position and Petra’s might easily have been reversed. Had Sonia been the fugitive instead, begging to see her child, she would have appreciated being granted that last wish. She’d agreed to allow Petra to see Leo. Her only requirement was that she be present for the visit.

  “I can’t see how we’ve any right to refuse you on that.” Conor darted a glance at Lukas, who nodded in agreement. “Will Petra object though?”

  “I don’t think so, at least I hope not.” Sonia’s pale brow wrinkled. “I believe Petra and I should look each other in the eye and acknowledge the experience we shared. We are the only two people who will ever understand what it meant, and what it cost us.”

  The Garden on the Ramparts sat near the western end of a long stretch of green space that ran beneath the sheer southern wall of Prague Castle. The entire system of linked parkland was known as the South Gardens. Conor had already seen a good deal of the area before knowing its name because he’d chased Sonia’s would-be assassin, Karl, almost the entire length of its paved promenade from the eastern end.

  He now stood in the corner of a small colonnaded portico that had been constructed directly on the ramparts. The tourists filing in and out came to snap photographs before moving down to a larger observation terrace a hundred feet away, but he wasn’t looking at the view. With his back against one of the stone columns, he faced the garden and a large rectangle of crushed gravel lined with park benches. For the past fifteen minutes he’d been methodically sweeping his eyes between the three points of a triangulated area. The first point lay diagonally ahead of him—the bench where Lukas and Sonia had settled with the baby carriage between them. The second ran in a straight line beyond the two of them, where Kate was standing in a shadowed corner of the castle wall, guarding the eastern walkway. The third point was at the western edge of the garden, where Petra was expected to appeared.

  This spot—peaceful, innocuous, and surprisingly public—was the one she’d chosen to surrender herself for the murder and frenzied mutilation of her husband. She’d agreed to the inclusion of Sonia, and had set the rendezvous for five o’clock. The four of them had arrived an hour early to stake out positions that would suit their purpose, which was to eliminate any possibility of Petra escaping once her visit with Leo was finished.

  She arrived on time, and when Conor recognized her petite figure approaching from the west, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Contrary to expectation and her appearance the previous day, Petra looked nothing short of spectacular. Her blond hair was shining, pulled up into an elegant bun that accented a pair of sparkling diamond earrings, and she wore a short, strapless cocktail dress that fitted her like a second skin. Every inch of it was covered in arcing patterns of silver and crystal beadwork against a flesh-toned background. With all her curves in lithe, swaying motion, she looked like a newly discovered species—gorgeous and diamond-encrusted—advancing down the walkway in flat, silver sandals.

  Conor stood at a distance to her right and she passed without seeing him. When she reached Lukas—also staring, open-mouthed—Petra greeted him with a deep, passionate kiss. He saw the officer stiffen and then give in, placing his hands on her waist and drawing her closer. When they separated, she turned to Sonia. A few words passed between them, and then Petra stepped forward to take her into a close embrace.

  “Ah, Christ,” Conor muttered nervously, e
arning a startled glance from the apple-cheeked German woman standing next to him. Petra had taken control, clearly having given more thought to this encounter than expected. Regardless of the fact that every one of his colleagues was armed, he was afraid they’d all brought knives to a gunfight.

  Moving next to the carriage, Petra lifted the sleeping baby and held him up to gaze at him. Leo’s face shrank into a prune-like grimace and reddened, but it quickly cleared when she settled him against her shoulder. She walked in a slow circle around the carriage, her hand gently caressing his head.

  As agreed, they gave her ten minutes, an interval that seemed cruelly short but also dangerously long. When Conor saw Lukas glance at him with a subtle nod, he signaled to Kate. From their respective positions they each advanced in a clockwise direction, flanking the rectangular area. They stopped when they’d reached their marks—Kate on the eastern side of the walkway that stretched into the distance along the length of the castle, and Conor on its shorter western path leading back to the street. Facing each other across the wide graveled space, they stood in silent witness to Petra’s final minutes cradling the child of her heart, and Conor’s heart thudded painfully in his chest, nearly undone by the tears streaming down Kate’s face.

  Petra had her back to Conor when she noticed Kate’s presence, and although still a good distance away he was close enough to hear her brief, throaty laugh. “Ah, so interesting, but not so surprising, I think.” Her head moved from side to side, searching, and then as though sensing his presence she turned to face Conor and laughed again. “Yes, I thought you must be nearby. You are rarely far from her, are you?”

  “Not if I can help it,” he said, his own voice strained with emotion.

  “Such an odd pair, the two of you. There is more to you than meets the eye, I think.” She ran her eyes over Conor with a suggestive smile. “Tantalizing, since already you offer so much for the eye to appreciate. If only I had time to learn more, but I know you are here to tell me I do not. I will never be sure why you seem to be in the middle of everything, so cool and calm, keeping company with spies, but I can guess. Can’t I?”