Private Dublin

Chapter 68

Mo-bot phoned me back thirty minutes later.

I was on my feet, exhausted but determined not to be caught, and keeping moving seemed to be the most sensible option. I’d left the park and was on a wide street called Serpentine Avenue, which had pretty two-story terrace houses on one side and impressive new commercial buildings on the other. The road was busy with traffic and the sidewalks were crowded with a steady stream of workers on their way to Meta’s Dublin headquarters. It was easy to be anonymous here and blend in as just another face in the crowd. I stepped out of the flow of pedestrians and paused beneath a tree when my phone rang.

“Jack, I’ve got you a safe place. Last-minute rental under one of our gray names. Key-box entry, so you don’t even need to see anyone to check in. It’s ready now. I’ll message you the address. It’s near the river.”

“Thank you,” I said with a sense of tremendous relief. I felt tired and vulnerable and needed sanctuary. “I’m going to get right over there and then I want to talk if you and Sci are still up.”

“He’s at the hospital with Justine, but I can patch him in. Are you sure you don’t want to rest first?” she asked.

“This is very personal, Mo. They planted someone inside my business and used her to try and kill us. I’m going to do whatever it takes to ensure the entire Propaganda Tre organization answers for this.”

“I understand,” she responded. “And I feel the same way. I’ll wait for your call and tell Sci to stand by.”

I hung up and checked my messages for the address, which was on Pigeon House Road. I checked Google Maps and saw the property was located on the bank of the river, opposite Dublin Port.

To make sure I wasn’t followed, I took three different taxis to reach the rental house and walked the last mile. I took a circuitous route, stopping in a cafe for an espresso and a cream breakfast cake, a local treat recommended to me by the cashier.

I finally reached Pigeon House Road shortly before 9 a.m. and found a long terrace of tiny single-story homes that looked out over a highway with beyond it the estuary and busy port on the far bank of the river. The key-box was beside the front door of the small white-rendered house with black trim located halfway along the terrace. I used the code Mo-bot had sent me to open it. I took out the key, unlocked the front door and went inside the two-bedroomed home.

It was decorated on a nautical theme, with boats, anchors, seashells and depictions of mermaids everywhere. I went into the kitchen, which overlooked a small yard, and took a seat at the table. I was worried a more comfortable chair would entice me to sleep.

I phoned Mo-bot, who answered immediately.

“Let me loop in Sci,” she told me, and the line went silent for a moment.

“Jack,” he said when he joined the call. “How are you? Mo says you’ve run into trouble and she told me about Andrea Harris. Turncoat!”

“It’s been rough,” I responded. “Does Justine know anything?”

“I don’t agree with keeping secrets, but I understand about not wanting her to be worried right now,” he said. “She’s sleeping, but she’s been pushing herself hard to get out of here. Too hard maybe. Sometimes I see the pain and fatigue on her face when she thinks no one is watching.”

It distressed me to hear about Justine soldiering on like that, being made to suffer through no fault of her own. I wondered if she was pushing herself so hard because she was desperate to be useful again. I hoped not.

I briefed Mo-bot and Sci on the events that had led to me escaping from Andi, and when I was through, Sci spoke first.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Mo-bot agreed. “Wow.”

“I know,” I said.

“This might seem outside my comfort zone but one of my specialist lecture topics is forensic accounting and data analysis. I’m not just fingerprint dust and fibers,” Sci said. “I suggested to Mo that she look for any links between Andi and all the key players.”

“He did,” Mo-bot chimed in. “Much as it pains me to admit his brilliance, credit where it’s due.”

“And?” I asked, knowing neither would have raised a dead end in these circumstances.

“I didn’t find a link to a major player, but I did discover a connection to a minor one,” Mo-bot revealed. “Remember the warehouse you escaped from? It’s owned by Longshore Holdings. The law firm that incorporated Longshore Holdings is a small corporate outfit with offices in London and Dublin called Byrne and Fitzgerald. It’s the same firm that negotiated Andrea Harris’s employment contract when she joined Private.”