Private Dublin

Chapter 16

I understood why Mo-bot had insisted on meeting me at the hospital, and she and I exchanged a somber look. When I’d been in Italy to open our new office in the Eternal City, we had become embroiled in Propaganda Tre’s conspiracy to take over the Vatican and other positions of power in Rome. Justine and I had subsequently been targeted in Monaco as part of an attempt at revenge by the group, and here I was once more looking at the distinctive tattoo that signaled the gunman’s membership of the secret criminal group. In Monaco, one leading member of Propaganda Tre had escaped, Raymond Chalmont, the owner of the casino which the group had been using to launder money from its criminal activities. I had tried to find him as had the Monégasque, French and US authorities, but the trail had gone cold in Tangier. Chalmont had strong motives for revenge having lost everything of value that he had — his home, family, friends, status and business — staking it all on an attempt to assassinate Eli Carver, the US Secretary of Defense.

For a while after the events in Monaco I’d been worried but, over time, I’d lowered my guard. It was clear now that I’d made a catastrophic mistake.

“This was targeted,” Sci said.

I nodded. “Is our man still in the air?”

Mo-bot shook her head. “Flight landed in Dublin over an hour ago. LAPD notified the Irish police, the Garda Síochána, but the alert came too late.”

“Damn,” I said, and started pacing in frustration, trying to figure out the best course of action. “I’ve got to go there,” I said at last.

“I don’t think—” Sci began, but Mo-bot cut him off.

“He has to.” She turned to me. “You want us to tell Justine?”

I glanced at the door to her room and shook my head. “I can’t leave without her knowing.”

Mo-bot looked pointedly at the door.

I walked over to it reluctantly. I knew this wouldn’t be easy but couldn’t see that I had any other choice. I knocked gently and, after a moment, heard a faint, “Come in.”

I stepped inside, steeling myself.

“Hey,” Justine said, sitting up a little straighter in bed. She knew me too well and must have clocked something in my expression. “What’s wrong?”

I propped myself against the edge of the bed and stroked the back of her left hand.

“How are you?” I asked.

She still looked too pale, but there was more color in her face than yesterday, and her eyes didn’t seem as dull.

“It’s too early to say for sure,” she replied. “But I think I feel better. A little at least. What’s the matter?”

“The man who shot you,” I began, before hesitating. “There’s no easy way to say this. He left the country after being strip-searched at the airport. He had a Propaganda Tre tattoo.”

I’d seen her bracing for bad news, but she couldn’t have prepared herself for the shock of this revelation.

“No,” she said. “That would mean...”

“I think he came here to kill us,” I finished her train of thought. “We were the intended targets.”

We sat in near-silence for a moment, the stillness broken only by the sounds of the machines around her.

“He went to Ireland,” I said. “I have to go after him.”

“No,” Justine responded. “You can’t, Jack. It’s too dangerous.”

“I have to,” I said. “It will take weeks for LAPD to work through the red tape with the Irish police, by which time his trail will have gone cold. I don’t have any of those constraints. I can get on the next flight and find him.”

She tried to speak but I held up my hand to stop her.

“Mo-bot and Sci will stay with you in case they try again.” With these words, I saw the severity of our situation hit home for her. “We won’t be truly safe until I’ve found this man and whoever sent him.”

“Jack...” she began, but couldn’t continue. Tears filled her eyes.

“I’ll get support from our London office,” I said. “It’s the only way. The one chance we’ve got of putting Rome and Monaco behind us and staying safe, once and for all.”

She was silent for a long while and I saw her struggling to think of alternatives, but in the end acceptance washed over her. She looked at me and nodded.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “You have to go.”

She took my hand and squeezed it, and I felt genuine strength in her grip this time.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too,” she replied. “Come back to me, Jack. You hear me? Come back in one piece.”