Private Dublin

Chapter 21

Andi took Chesterfield Avenue, a road that cut through Phoenix Park, a broad expanse of parkland planted with ancient oaks and other mature trees. I exchanged messages with Emily Knighton in London, asking her to try and get us an appointment with someone from Dublin Airport security. We moved into a residential suburb before turning onto a large highway that cut through open countryside to the north-east of the city. Emily messaged as we left the highway and joined the airport service road to say that Amanda Doyle, the head of security, had agreed to meet us.

“Emily got us in to see the director of security,” I told Andi as I typed a short message of thanks.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she replied. “Emily is quite persuasive, and the Private name opens a lot of doors.”

I knew we had a good reputation with law enforcement and our clients, but it had never occurred to me that our brand awareness and value was more widespread than that.

“It shouldn’t be a shock,” Andi continued. “You’ve built an incredible organization and staffed it with some of the best ex-cops and soldiers in the world. Not that I’m boasting, of course.”

“Sounds a little boastful,” I replied.

She smiled. “Maybe a little. Word of your exploits filters out, Jack. And the rest of us aren’t doing too badly, even if our successes don’t always make the headlines. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

I didn’t pay much mind to superstition, but I did believe pride went before a fall and wasn’t interested in reflecting on what I’d achieved. It was more than a job. Helping people to right wrongs was my calling, and as long as there were cases to solve, I wouldn’t ever stop. I didn’t say anything to Andi though because I didn’t want her to think I was ungrateful for her kind words.

When we arrived at the airport, she parked in the multi-story short-stay car park and asked an attendant to direct us to the executive offices, located near Terminal 2.

We made our way to the contemporary building at the heart of the airport campus and checked in at reception. After a short wait in the bright, airy lobby, Amanda Doyle’s assistant, a man who introduced himself as Simon, took us up to the executive suite. He noted my American accent and made polite conversation about a trip he’d made to LA a few years back, and how Hollywood had left a huge impression on him. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but Andi was very adroit and stepped in to keep Simon engaged.

The executive offices were located on the fourth floor and the high windows offered unrivalled views of the main runway and aircraft stands.

Amanda Doyle was waiting for us in her large, modern corner office. Late forties, she had short brown hair and a serious demeanor, which wasn’t surprising given the nature of her job. She wore a black ankle-length skirt and a red blouse.

“Mr. Morgan, Ms. Harris, your colleague in London said you have an urgent request. Please take a seat.”

She directed us to three armchairs that were arranged opposite a couch.

“Tea? Coffee?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” I replied.

“Me too,” Andi added.

Amanda nodded at Simon, who shut the door behind him as he left the room.

“Thanks for giving us your time,” I said, easing myself into one of the chairs.

Andi sat beside me, and Amanda took the couch.

“It’s the least I can do,” she replied. “I know Private by reputation...” Andi shot me a “told you so” look “... so I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to meet the Jack Morgan.”

I smiled and glanced at the floor bashfully. I didn’t cope well with praise or notoriety.

“Well, thank you,” I said. “We believe the man behind the Academy shooting, the supposed Ecokiller, boarded an Aer Lingus flight from LAX to Dublin the day before yesterday.”

Amanda nodded. “We got the alert from the Garda, but it came too late to stop him at the border. It wouldn’t have mattered in any case.”

I frowned. “How do you mean?”

“We reviewed the gate footage,” Amanda replied. “He never left the plane. And we checked the cameras at passport control. No one matching the suspect’s description came through, and no one used the Colm Finlay passport.”

“Did he board another flight at LAX?” Andi asked.

Amanda shook her head. “We don’t think so. Pre-takeoff passenger count was two hundred and sixteen, but when we counted at the arrival gate, two hundred and fifteen got off, meaning the suspect managed to leave that aircraft without being detected somewhere between Los Angeles International and Dublin Airport.”