Private Dublin

Chapter 90

Ever cautious, I stayed in the hotel the following day, leaving my room only to buy a new cellphone, which I did first thing. Mo-bot, Sci, Justine and Emily Knighton were the only people I sent the new number to, so I knew it was one of them calling when the phone rang at 10:15 a.m.

“Jack, it’s Emily,” she said, when I answered. “I’ve got good news. Our London legal adviser has been liaising with the Irish authorities and they’ve cleared you to go home. They’ve said they have all they need from you for now and can do any follow-up remotely.”

My heart soared at the prospect of going back to LA and being reunited with Justine. “That’s great news. Thanks for letting me know.”

“It’s the least I can do to make up for...” she hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” I asked.

“For failing to spot Andi was a bad apple.”

“There’s only so much we can do to discover what evil lies in people’s hearts,” I said. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Thank you,” she replied with relief. “We’re turning our attention to Raymond Chalmont next and doing everything we can to track him down.”

“I appreciate it,” I said. “I’m going to try to get over to London before the end of the year, so maybe we can catch up properly then.”

“Look forward to it,” she replied.

We said our farewells and she wished me safe travels, and the instant I hung up I booked a ticket on the Aer Lingus flight that was due to leave Dublin for Los Angeles at 3:25 p.m.

I sent messages to Sci, Mo-bot and Justine giving them my flight details, and after a quick check-in and a short stay in the departure lounge, I settled into my business-class seat for takeoff. As the plane reached cruising altitude, the cabin crew went through drinks and meal service before setting the lights low so people could sleep, but I was too excited and full of anticipation. My mind whirred, working through what had happened, turning over aspects of the investigation and the Rome and Monaco cases to see if I’d missed anything that might offer a clue to Chalmont’s current whereabouts.

I was frustrated by the lack of a breakthrough and exhausted by the time the wheels finally touched the runway at LAX, but adrenalin kept me going. I showed no signs of fatigue when I met Sci in the Arrivals hall.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, pulling me into a warm embrace.

“You too,” I replied. “It’s good to be home.”

We talked about the investigation on the way from the airport to the hospital, but I didn’t absorb much of what Sci was saying. My mind was abuzz with excitement and most of my responses were brief and automatic.

We met Mo-bot in the corridor on the third floor of UCLA Medical Center in Santa Monica, where she’d set up a little workstation outside of Justine’s private room.

“Jack,” she said, putting her laptop aside and rising the moment she saw me.

“Mo,” I replied as we embraced. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you in person.”

“I’m glad you made it back in one piece,” she said. “Listen, we can talk properly and be all hugs and kisses some other time, but I know you’re not here to see me.” She glanced pointedly at the door. “I think she’s resting, but she won’t mind being woken for this.”

I smiled, and my heart thundered with exhilaration as I entered Justine’s room.

Mo-bot was right. Justine was asleep in bed, her face lit by the gentle glow of the Californian sunlight edging through the blinds.

As I approached, Justine stirred, rubbed her eyes, and then gave the broadest smile when she saw me.

I beamed right back.