Operation Proof of Life (25 page)

“Wouldn’t do such a thing? I told myself the same thing about Tory for years after I discovered she’d joined Peter’s organization too. Peter, Cormac and many others are—were—very persuasive and charming men. Passionate men who are difficult to say no to.”

Ruth and a member of the IRA. Michael could not picture his sister hooking up with a terrorist much less helping him. “Proof?”

Sitting up beside him, she tapped the side of her head. “Most of it’s in here, but I have documentation of her trips and their relevant timing with each incident. I’ve asked Truman to make sure it goes directly to you if anything happens to me.”

He stared at the far wall, not seeing it. “You never gave it to Jeffries.”

“After Ella was kidnapped and I met you, I stalled him. I just couldn’t do it. Ruth means everything to you and I…I couldn’t follow through and give it to Jeffries, even to save my father.”

Her gift touched him. Deeply. So deeply, he couldn’t find the right words to say. “Thank you.”

“Now the election’s over,” she said, tipping her head in that familiar movement that let her hair screen her face. “My timely death saved Ruth and Thad from public humiliation and quite probably from losing the White House, but the truth is still there. It could come out someday.”

There was nothing coercive implied in the tone of her voice. However her words still made Michael stiffen. “Blackmail again?”

Her face jerked up, her eyes wide, hurt and indignation clear even in the soft morning light. “I have no intention of blackmailing you or your sister. I just thought you should know so you could talk to her. She and Thad will have even more enemies now they’re the First Family. And I’m not one to preach, but right is right. You need to talk to her about what she did and why.”

Right
was
right, of course, and he owed her. Big time. He reached up and pushed a piece of her tousled hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry. It’s a lot to take in.”

She grabbed his hand and held it. “Yeah, I know.” Her eyes filled with sadness. “Been there.”

His gut twisted and he pulled her into his arms, hugging her for all he was worth. She’d survived far worse than he had and by God he wanted to fix it all. Make her happy. “You’re not alone anymore, Brigit. I’m here, and we’ll get your dad back, I swear it on my honor.”

Her arms went around him, and she crawled into his lap. A second later he noticed the ragged hitch of her breathing. Warm tears fell on his shoulder. Easing them both back, he held her until she stopped crying. For the first time, she melted, small and fragile, against his chest.

He would have held her like that forever, but she finally pushed away and went to the bathroom, avoiding his eyes, but picking up his shirt on the way.

Listening to the sounds of the faucet running, his brain worked on a backup plan in case Donovan eluded them at the memorial service. No matter what happened, Michael was going to reunite Brigit with her dad. And then he was going to bury his foot in her dad’s backside for being such a horse’s ass.

Brigit reappeared from the bathroom, Michael’s shirt on but unbuttoned. His groin tightened. She had a thing about his clothes and he was damn happy she did. The sight of her in them never failed to satisfy his deep male urge to protect her.

As she reached the bed, a teasing smile on her lips, a noise by the door caught Michael’s attention. A white piece of paper slipped through the crack at the bottom. Before he could blink, Brigit was moving to pick it up. “Wait,” he whispered.

She froze, half bent. He grabbed his Glock off the nightstand as he rolled out of bed. Moving cautiously, he flipped the safety off and motioned her away from the door.

“It’s Tory’s handwriting,” she said, matching his whisper as she started to pick up the paper again.

He snapped his fingers, and she glanced up. Shaking his head, he again motioned at her to move away from the door. She straightened, crossed her arms over her chest and raised one brow.

At the door, he listened for movement outside. Nothing. He checked the peephole. What he could see of the hallway was clear. With deliberate slowness, he undid the bolt and lock. With once glance back at Brigit, who was still eyeing him like he’d lost his mind, he turned the knob and pulled the door open.

Cold, empty hallway greeted him as he stepped out. Until, at least, while he leaned over the wooden railing to view the lower staircase, the renters in the room next door came out with umbrellas and guidebooks in hand.

“Oh,” one said, raising her guidebook to shield her eyes.

The other openly gawked at him. “Gonna be hard to top this on our sightseeing trip.”

Michael smiled and beat retreat into Brigit’s room, slamming the door behind him.

An amused grin crooked her lips. “Naked and brandishing a gun. That’s so hot.”

She was holding the paper and now handed it to him. Michael took it and read the small printed address. A time was also noted, one hour before O’Bern’s memorial service.

“Crumlin Road Courthouse and Jail,” she said. “A historic symbol of the Troubles. Closed in 1996. Donovan and his group have secretly used it off and on as a meeting place.”

And this was an invitation for her to join them. Donovan was herding her into a bucket, where he could take aim and be sure to kill her. Michael’s knees lost their ability to lock, and he leaned against the door to keep himself upright.

Brigit eyed the paper. “Tory’s on my side now. She’s setting Peter up.”

Michael shook his head and tapped the spot next to his right eye with the barrel end of the gun. “Blinders, Brigit. You’re wearing blinders if you think Tory is helping you. She’s helping Donovan. It’s a trap.”

“You may be right, but if he knew I was here, in this rented room, why not kill me last night? Why have Tory write and deliver the note?”

He crumpled the note in his hand and replaced the safety on the gun. He wondered the same thing. “Get dressed. We’re out of here.”

“But Peter doesn’t know where I am. I’m sure of it.”

Grabbing Brigit, he hugged her close, frustration burning in his veins. Then he steered her toward the pile of clothes on the chair. “We’re not taking chances.”

Her brows collided over her eyes. “You should be happy. Now we won’t waste our time at the memorial service.”

Michael wasn’t happy at all. Donovan wanted Brigit and was probably laughing his ass off at the idea that he could have killed her in her sleep. He was toying with her, drawing her into a no-win situation. “You’re not going inside that courthouse.”

“Then who is?”

He pulled on his pants and stuck the gun in his waistband. Grabbing his cell phone, he called the one man who knew how to handle an Irish terrorist.

“Flynn,” the best ex-spy in the business answered on the first ring.

“I need you.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Crumlin Road
Courthouse

By noon, Conrad had the whole group locked and loaded for a look at the crumbling stone courthouse and jail. Ryan Smith had ferried over from London with Truman Gunn to join the party, and Titus Allen had left his baby jet to get in on the action too.

From Conrad’s lookout point on the roof of the nearby hospital, he could see the entrance to the courthouse across the street and the jail’s four story, six-hundred-and-forty cell wings next door.

Even with the peeling paint and broken windows, it was easy to imagine how stunning the grand Victorian building had once been. Behind the beauty of the architecture, the horrors forced on those who passed through its courts, however, was staggering. One hundred and fifty years of Belfast’s bloody political history haunted the Crum. Gerry Adams, Ian Paisley, Paddy Devlin and David Ervine had all been convicted here and marched across the street to the gaol via the underground connecting tunnel. Inside the prison, inmates were subjected to squalor, beatings, mice and cockroaches. Seventeen men had been executed and many more had died from the deplorable, primitive living conditions.

Alcatraz, in comparison, was a carnival.

Conrad had to hand it to Donovan. The place was a decent spot for a terrorist meeting. Avoiding the occasional afternoon tours must have put a cramp in his Day-Timer but he probably held his meetings at night. The wrought-iron gates with their barbed-wire tops were a deterrent to kids and vagrants, but they would hardly keep out an experienced criminal like Donovan and his group. Once past the gates, accessing the buildings through the many broken windows and busted walls was easy. The tunnel system probably offered another simple means of access.

Certain sections of the buildings were in such bad repair, tourists were blocked from entering them. And while there were no pool tables, bars or big-screen TVs, Conrad had spotted a small satellite dish on the south edge of one of the guard towers.

If he were a criminal hiding out, he’d pick a warmer, drier place, say Caracas, but Irish criminals were an interesting lot. Bullheaded to a fault and martyrs to the last drop of whiskey. Home and the Church were never far in spirit or physical proximity.

Besides, Donovan could spit on the ground where so many of his IRA compatriots had been trapped and rouse his followers into a frenzy just by pointing out the chairs still chained to the floor, the heavy metal locks, and the names carved into seats and tables. The modern day martyrs would embrace the connection to their ancestors here, caring little about the falling plaster, rotting wood and subhuman comforts.

There was only one scheduled tour today and Conrad had pulled a Hail Mary and gotten a single ticket. An hour before O’Bern’s memorial service, when the tour group entered the grounds, Michael Stone was going in with them.

Reconnaissance was a valuable skill. One Conrad had used many times in the field. However, Stone had flipped the boss card to take Conrad’s fun away. Hell, it wasn’t even about that. The last time Stone had been in the field in any kind of recon capacity, the first Jurassic Park movie was number one at the box office.

On the rooftop, Conrad wasn’t the only one upset about Stone going in. Brigit paced along the far edge, fidgeting with her hair and biting her nails. Every couple of seconds, she’d glance at Stone from the corner of her eye. At least she was trying to be cool about it. If it had been him going in and Julia staying behind, well…he would have been getting an earful.

“Everybody over here,” he said, waving the various people over to Del’s makeshift computer station.

The hospital roof had two raised exits north of a small helo pad. One exit was probably stairs, the other an elevator for transporting patients on gurneys. Del had plopped his butt and his miniscule laptop between the two brick outcroppings and went to work.

As the ten people gathered around, Conrad looked his team over. “You got the work order form?” he asked Del.

The techie hit a button and the mobile printer next to his leg hummed to life. “Coming right up.”

“Titus, you, Gunn and Kinnick are going in as hired security specialists. The city’s still trying to turn the courthouse into a real tourist attraction, but crime’s high in this area. You’re here to install camera surveillance. Smitty’s got uniforms and badges in the green van at the corner over there.” He pointed behind him. “Once inside—”

Titus interrupted, excitement over playing spy again getting the better of him. “We know what to do, Flynn.”

The printer spit out a sheet of paper and Titus nabbed it. His eyes scanned the details with careful scrutiny. Folding it, he nodded at Del. “You’re good, son.”

Clearly flustered, Del started pecking at his keyboard again.

Conrad handed the three men two-way radios with wireless headsets. Titus raised a white brow. “We going low-tech on this mission?”

“Without Del’s storeroom of toys, it’s the best I could do on short notice.”

As the three inserts drifted back to try out their new toys, Lawson raised a hand. “Where do you want me?”

“Right here,” Zara said. She was less pale and had kept her breakfast down, but the circles under her eyes and the way she leaned against the bricks let Conrad know she was exhausted. She shouldn’t be here, but he was the idiot who’d assigned her to stay close to Kent’s backside and dig into Donovan’s history. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

Lawson looked out over the rooftop, as if he wished to avoid the conversation, but finally met her eyes again. “Z, we talked about this. I have a job to do.”

“And so do I.”

Julia placed a hand on Zara’s forearm. “Not a good idea in your condition.”

“In my condition, I need Lawson.”

Julia looked at Conrad. Shit, like Zara wasn’t stubborn enough, throw in hormone-induced bullheadedness and he might as well beat his brains against the bricks. Thank God Julia wasn’t pregnant too. He couldn’t help being totally relieved she wasn’t when he found out the FBI was sending her to Ireland to follow up on Donovan’s escape and murder of O’Bern.

Handing Lawson a radio, he indicated the jail. “I want you to find us a way in. If Donovan’s meeting place is anywhere, it will be inside that jail and I want to know how to get in and get out.”

Zara started to balk, but snapped her lips shut when Conrad handed her another radio and headset. “I’ll allow you to tag along, but you do not under any circumstances follow him onto the grounds. If I have to come in and rescue your butt, I will kick you out of my program so fast the Earth will spin backwards on its axis. You feel me?”

“I second that,” Stone said from the edge of the group. “Family is important, Agent Morgan. The most important thing in the world.”

It was the best kind of intervention they could have done with her, and God help him, the hormones did another dance. Her eyes went moist and she grinned at Lawson. “Family, yeah. I promise not to do anything stupid.”

Stone had sauntered over and was standing behind and off to the side of Brigit. Her head was bowed as if she were counting the puddles at her feet or praying. Conrad saw Stone’s gaze linger on her.

“One ticket for the tour.” He pulled the ticket out of his inside jacket pocket and held it out. “Sure you don’t want to stay here and orchestrate this?”

Brigit turned to Stone, now realizing he was behind her. His gaze immediately shifted to Conrad, the normal controlled expression back on his face. “Nope. My gig.”

“Why?” Brigit demanded.

Stone reached for the ticket, but Brigit was half a second faster and she snatched it from Conrad’s hand, putting it behind her back like a child. “Don’t do this,” she pleaded with him. “Please. Let someone else.”

Conrad exchanged a glance with Julia. She winked at him.

Stone scrubbed his hair with a fist and walked several paces away. “Brigit, don’t start with this again. I’m not storming the place. It’s a simple recon mission.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

He turned and faced her. “Titus, Brad and Truman are backing me up.”

“With a bogus cover that could be blown before they even get through the gate.”

“Hey,” Del spoke up from the sidelines. “They’ll get through the gate. My work is topnotch.”

Everyone ignored him.

Stone checked his watch and held out a hand for the ticket. “Look, I need to get going. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” Her voice rang over the rooftop. Titus, Lawson, Kinnick and Zara all looked over at them. Gunn frowned and started forward, but Conrad turned slightly and made a
no go
motion with his hand.

Gunn stopped, and the rest went back to what they were doing, trying to act like they weren’t listening. Del’s fingers flew across his keyboard as if he might force it to open up and swallow him.

“Don’t worry?” Brigit repeated, a little less loudly, but with no less emotion. “I don’t know what you think we shared last night and this morning, but if anyone here has a reason to worry about you walking into that courthouse, it’s me.”

Stone’s face gave nothing away. “This is not the time or the place to discuss what’s going on between us.”

Like he’d slapped her, Brigit took a step back. “You could be walking into a trap and you want me to just stand here and watch you go without a word? Is that it? You want me to be stoic and brave and all that other bullshit while you risk your life for my family?”

Conrad saw a muscle work in Stone’s jaw before he spoke. “You said yourself this wasn’t a trap. That Tory was on our side now.”

“I know.” She brought the ticket in front of her stomach and looked down at it, back up at him. “I’m having second thoughts.”

Stone shut his eyes for two taps of Del’s fingers and let out a terse sigh. “No time for second thoughts. I can handle this. Trust me.”

She wavered, and Stone pulled the ticket from her fingers. He made it as far as the metal fire escape stairs on the south edge of the building before Brigit spoke again. She raised her voice for him to hear. “I just found you. I just found happiness for the first time in my life. Please don’t take that away from me.”

All motion stopped. Michael. Conrad. Del. Lawson and Zara. Titus, Kinnick, Truman. No one moved.

Except Brigit. She looked around at all of them, settled her attention back on Michael. All her frustration, fear and love threatened to jet out of her in a stream of emotional need. That was not the way to reach Michael, though. “Your group here”—she motioned at them with her hand as she met his gaze—“needs you. Your family needs you. My God, America needs you. If you go in there and something,
anything
, about this plan goes wrong, everyone loses. Every. Last. One. Loses. Do you understand?”

She drew in a shaky breath and admitted the truth. “It’s not just about me and what I want. It’s about you, Michael. So don’t think you can walk away from me without so much as a goodbye, and tell me not to worry. If you get hurt, or God forbid, die”—her breath stuck in her throat, a solid ball of anguish—“it will be my fault, and I can’t live with that. I can’t live without you.”

Michael hung his head and said, “Jesus Christ” under his breath.

She waited for him, her legs shaking and her fingernails biting into her palms. After a moment, when he said nothing else and made no move to argue, she knew she’d lost.

Batting back the tears burning her eyes, she raised her chin and faced the open stares of the others head on. Her gaze finally settled on Conrad. “Well, where do you want me?”

“Uh,” he stuttered.

Before he could answer, Michael crossed the distance, swept her into his arms and kissed her hard.

Out of the blue, someone started clapping. Someone else wolf whistled. A few seconds later, everyone was clapping and hooting as Michael went for her tonsils.

The world went away then for a few heartbeats and Brigit poured everything—all the fear and love she was feeling—into kissing Michael back.

It was over too soon. Michael’s lips left hers, but his hands stayed on her hips and his gaze rested on her face.

“All right. All right,” Conrad said, waving his hands to quiet the group. Turning his back on Stone and Brigit, he whirled one finger in a circle. “Move out. Titus, you and your group get down to the van. Once you’re inside the courthouse, get those bugs and cameras planted in the areas I showed you on the map. Especially down the tunnel.”

As the men filed by to hit the fire escape, Titus punched Michael on the arm. Truman tapped Brigit on her good shoulder. Michael dropped his hands from her hips and stepped back. Brigit kicked at a pebble at her feet.

When he got to the ledge, he grabbed the fire escape’s handrails and swung one leg over to the first step. “Hey, Doc.”

Brigit looked up.

Michael dangled the left-behind rabbit’s foot on a chain from one finger. “I’m not done with you yet. I promise, I’ll be back.”

She nodded, and Michael disappeared, taking her heart with him.

When she faced Conrad and Julia, she shrugged. “I thought for sure the part about his country needing him would work.”

Julia laughed. “So did I.”

“Huh, so did I,” Conrad admitted, handing his binoculars to Julia. “You watch the sidewalk. Keep an eye on the tour group. You”—he pointed to Brigit—“stay here with Del. He’ll be able to show you everything the cameras catch, including the feed coming in from the cell phone Stone’s using.”

Normally she would have balked at being on tech duty, but this job meant she could watch Michael, maybe even be his guardian angel if anything went wrong. Without a word of complaint, she went to sit with Del.