Private Dublin

Chapter 66

“Keep your hands on the wheel,” Andi told me, brandishing the pistol.

I stared ahead, partly because I couldn’t bear to look at her, but also seeking out an opportunity to escape.

We were on Donnybrook Road now, a broad commercial thoroughfare lined with offices, shops and bars, heading south toward University College. The traffic was not heavy at this time of the morning before the first light of day brightened the purple night. We were still in darkness, with few pedestrians or vehicles to be seen.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why Propaganda Tre?” she responded. “Or why Private?”

“Both,” I replied, very conscious of the gun between us.

“Work enough years as a cop and you see the world differently. You realize the softly-softly approach doesn’t work. That the criminals you locked up as a rookie cop are back on the street committing worse offenses. Do-gooders have taken us into a world where the just are shackled by procedure and policy, and evil has free reign. Propaganda Tre redresses the balance.”

“By setting refugee centers on fire?” I seethed.

“If that’s what it takes to show people the way,” Andi replied nonchalantly, as if her conscience was completely untroubled by the horrific crime. “If that’s what’s needed to build a strong nation. A strong nation starts with strong borders. European countries have never been melting pots. The UK and Ireland are not like America. But for many it’s easy gratification, quick-fix ideas, that get traction. Our politicians imported the alien concept of the melting pot of mass migration, when it was never previously part of our way of life.”

“The melting pot policy made America the most powerful nation on earth,” I countered this argument. “And every successful empire before it.”

She jeered at this. “Empires conquered people, they didn’t assimilate them. But you tell yourself whatever comforting stories you need to.”

She paused before continuing. In the quiet, I tried to decide my next move.

“As for Private,” she said, “we needed to know what you know. Who you’ve spoken to about us. We needed access to the Monaco and Rome case files, which meant getting someone inside.”

“And the shooting in LA?” I asked.

“When Chalmont discovered I was working in the London office, he asked me for your schedule, so...” she trailed off with a shrug.

“You gave us up?” I remarked coldly. “Justine is in hospital because of you.”

“She’s in hospital because Sam Farrell failed to do his job,” Andi replied angrily, and I was shocked to hear her lament the fact the man hadn’t killed us.

“You could have finished it for him any time,” I said.

“And given myself away? I’m still going through the files, and the higher-ups have realized how much of an asset Private can be to us. You know so many secrets about the rich and powerful. It’ll be no surprise if one of our friends buys the business from your estate.”

I tried not to react to her callousness, but failed.

“Don’t look so shocked, Jack. This only ends one way,” she said.

“Who are the higher-ups?” I asked, playing for time.

“Don’t trouble yourself with questions like that,” she replied. “It’s the end of the road for you, Jack. You don’t come out of this one alive.”

Outwardly, I stayed cool. Inside, I was burning with rage, my blood boiling, aflame with anger and disappointment in her.

“You’re planning on killing me yourself, are you?” I asked.

She waved the gun and shrugged, but her eyes told me I’d asked a stupid question.

I resolved never to give her the opportunity. We went through the intersection with Eglinton Terrace, and I saw a lamppost beside the gates to a soccer stadium. As we approached, I mounted the sidewalk to my left, and the obstacle taken at speed threw Andi forward against the dash. The pistol discharged and the sound of the shot set my ears ringing. I ducked instinctively as the bullet tore through the roof.

“What are you...” Andi began, but was silenced by a second impact.

The Ford hit a lamppost on her side at around forty miles per hour and stopped dead. The lamppost collapsed against the gray concrete stadium wall, showering it with sparks, and the airbags deployed as Andi and I were flung forward. I let myself go limp but was ready for action the moment the car settled.

I made to grab the pistol, which had fallen into the passenger footwell, but Andi came to her senses and elbowed me in the face, knocking me back in my seat as she leaned forward to scrabble for the gun.

I popped my seatbelt, flung my door open and sprinted toward the stadium wall just as Andi used the pistol to smash the passenger window. She started shooting as I hauled myself up and over the concrete. The capstones were chipped by a volley of bullets as I dropped into the car park on the other side.

I didn’t skip a beat when I landed but started sprinting toward the grandstand to my right.