Rule 53 Read online

  Rule 53

  Elaine Nolan

  Copyright © 2019 Elaine Nolan

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781700386557

  A 40 From Now Publication

  With thanks to Siobhan Hayden, Tony Murray, Kay Nolan, Tom and Susan Jane Smith (The Merry Jaynz), David Moore (Professor P-Soop), and Jeff McCall

  List of Acronyms

  An Garda Siochána

  Police force of the Republic of Ireland

  CIS

  Communications and Information Systems Corps (Irish Army)

  CSB

  Garda Crime and Security Branch (Ireland)

  CTI

  Garda Counter Terrorism International (Ireland)

  DC

  District of Columbia (Washington, USA)

  DFHQ

  Defence Forces Headquarters (Ireland)

  DoD

  Department of Defence

  DHS

  Department of Homeland Security (USA)

  DoJ

  Department of Justice

  G2

  Stiúrthóireacht na Faisnéise/Directorate of Military Intelligence (Ireland)

  GCHQ

  Government Communisations Headquarters (UK)

  IMEI

  International Mobile Equipment Identity (Mobile phone code)

  INLA

  Irish National Liberation Army

  IRA

  Irish Republican Army (Ireland/NI)

  NI

  Northern Ireland

  NSIS

  National Security Intelligence Section (Ireland)

  PSNI

  Police Service of Northern Ireland(NI/UK)

  RUC

  Royal Ulster Constabulary(UK)

  SDU

  Special Detective Unit of An Garda Siochána (Ireland)

  UDA

  Ulster Defence Association

  UFF

  Ulster Freedom Fighters

  UVF

  Ulster Volunteer Force

  Prologue

  The younger man wavered on the kill shot. His prey, having stumbled, now lay prone, but he was far from defenceless; words and secrets were his weapon of choice. The younger man listened to the secrets spilling from the trembling man, shaking not from fear but from the wind chill in the early winter’s eve.

  The revolver levelled at his head didn’t faze him, secure knowing the secrets he held would keep him alive. They had so far, and the young Garda before him seemed to be of a higher calibre than the general rank-and-file police officer. Catching him was proof of that, and now he threatened to take the older man’s life, but the Garda recognised the enormity of the information spilling out. Not a deathbed confession, and as the information flowed the gun lowered, and his survival secured.

  Chapter 1

  “I trained your father,” the old Lieutenant-General told her. “A devious bastard, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  “And if I do?” Leigh asked.

  “Young lady, there are times to soften the truth, and times to let it fall like a hammer. This is a time for the latter.”

  “It’s not news to me,” she answered.

  “That’s not the hammer, but this; continue as you are and you will turn into him.”

  “Again, that’s not news,” she said, and he wondered if the hard exterior was a genetic trait, not learned.

  “You enjoy the comparison, don’t you?”

  “Why do you say that?” She sat back in the old leather sofa and swirled the honey-sweet whiskey liqueur served to her by a junior officer, and in this hallowed space where only the senior ranks could enter. Not being enlisted, or given officer status, it was a privilege for her, invited by the old man. More a request than an invitation, bordering on an order.

  The old officer studied her, finding her as inscrutable as Lee during his training there.

  “Are you trying to be him?” he asked.

  “I barely knew him,” she said, but paused. “That’s not true; I never saw this side of him.”

  “And what have you discovered so far?”

  “He was fearless, where as I spent most of my life living in fear.”

  “He wasn’t fearless, his first time on night-time manoeuvres terrified him.”

  “Yet he, as I have, survived it.”

  “Yes, I’ll grant you that. You’re both made of stern stuff. It might be what keeps you alive.”

  Leigh sipped her drink, and waited for the lecture. The Lieutenant-General held the firm belief that women had no business being in counter-espionage, or even regular espionage for that matter. She tried pointing out all the female agent-provocateurs throughout history, but it did nothing to change his mind. She resigned herself to another earful. To her surprise, he remained silent on the matter.

  “Try not get yourself killed, as he did. Foolish fellow, getting himself in the line of fire.”

  That pissed her off, that accusation of carelessness, but she held her temper in check.

  “His investigation at the time had international terrorist implications,” she said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. She straightened the waistcoat of her three-piece suit, before catching herself. The minor wardrobe correction became her tell, the gesture that showed her annoyance. At least she hadn’t tried adjusting her tie, as her grandfather did. Another man in her past she never knew. The line of Harte’s had a strong military connection, stretching to this barracks on the outskirts of Bundoran, on the northwest Atlantic coast. Perhaps the historic connection explained why he took an interest in her training. Again, she waited, as he played the same game with her, reassessing the comparison with his memory of Lee, and her grandfather, under whom he’d trained. He found them similar in personality, and he felt relieved to find they fought on the same side.

  “Yes,” the old man finally conceded. “Lee gave his life for the greater good.”

  The truth behind Lee’s shooting exploded out to the intelligence world. No one believed the bullshit story of an accident. An accident was synonymous with a cover up, but no one expected the backlash on the UK. One of their own agents assassinated an Irish agent working with them. Tensions ran high within the intelligence community and communication between the US and UK suffered the most.

  “So, who gets you?” the old man asked, though she suspected he had the answer.

  “Department of Defence,” she answered.

  “Not Justice?”

  She shook her head. Lee had been part of the Garda Intelligence Unit, which fell under the Department of Justice. But she wasn’t a trained Garda. While she was a just under the upper age limit of 35 for both departments, older recruits were uncommon. They liked to grow their own agents from a younger age. It made them less prone to stubbornness or thinking for themselves, or worse, questioning too much. It wouldn’t do for an operative to question the motives of those giving the orders. While her physical performance would’ve denied her entry into the Irish Rangers Corp, had that been the aim here, she’d worked hard while training with them. She proved herself able for the physical requirements.

  She excelled in cyber counter intelligence and hacked the internal systems on her first day, most likely to prove a point, and one not lost on the instructors, or those who sent her. She made an impact early in her training, displaying a remarkable level of ingenuity and creativeness, or as he preferred to describe it; deviousness. In this, she outshone her predecessors.

  Cyber security was a new realm, not existing in her grandfather’s time, and only emerging in her father’s brief lifetime. As adept as he had been with encryptions, her ability to predict and counteract cyber threats put her well ahead, and she was also capable of starting a few of her own. Again he concluded; devious. He shuddered at the thought of her working against them. At leas
t her moral compass appeared intact, though the notes of the assessing psychologist said she could go either way, under the right or wrong circumstances. It echoed a similar assessment of Lee.

  On the eve of her departure he continued to study her. With her training now complete, she was tied to the DoD, bound by the Official Secrets and other similar Acts and legislation intent in upholding national security. Tomorrow she’d leave, with no passing out parade to mark her completion of the past gruelling few months. She’d leave with as little fanfare as when she arrived, like the young woman he found her to be. Or devious, depending on how one considered her.

  Chapter 2

  She returned late in the evening to a cold and empty house, stiff, sore and tired from the 5-hour drive home, with only a single brief stop to break the journey. The emptiness of the house didn’t worry her, but the note on the kitchen table did. Karl apparently couldn’t wait for her. First Jake, and now Karl, but she didn’t dwell on it. Not much anyway and discarded the handwritten note, letting the page drop back onto the table and walking away, returning to the car to collect her bags.

  Karl accepted her decision to take the job better than Jake. Not that she had much choice. Her clients jumped ship and signed on with other developers. One or two she didn’t mind. It was a fickle business, especially if you failed to keep up with the latest trends, software and new coding languages. Not areas she failed at, but to lose all her clients pointed to something more than a glitch, or incompetence on her part. Greater forces, she concluded, had to be at work, and she succumbed to the offer. Her world righted itself again. The problems with her financials and accounts resolved themselves, almost overnight, and despite only being a silent director, the hotel she had a financial interest in underwent a rigorous and severe auditing and scrutiny from various government agencies. It pointed in one direction, even if Jake tried to deny or ignore such an obvious conspiracy. Big brother, he argued, didn’t concern themselves with such small fry when greater threats existed in the world. He faced stiff counter-arguments, and considering who she was, who her father was, they couldn’t consider her small fry.

  He left, citing his inability to accept her decision after she’d promised him she’d stay out of the murky espionage world. At least he’d had the balls to say it straight out, to her face, not in a note.

  Okay, so the note rankled at her, more than she’d admit. The belief someone waited for her to come home kept her going through the tough training. How strange that sensation. It surprised her, and while she denied any fondness for the affection, she found it to her liking. She enjoyed having the company, unconventional as it was, with two men as broken as her. Maybe they were too broken for it to last.

  She unpacked, not that she’d brought much. Boot camp didn’t need fashion or couture clothing, but that didn’t take long, leaving her at a loss at what to do next. Since setting up her own company after college, she’d not been without a project in hand. With her client base now ruined thanks to forces unknown, she had nothing to do. The only task left was to drive to head office in Newbridge the following morning. Her new job. She hadn’t been in anyone’s employment since college. She tried not dwelling on what lay in store for her the next day, but hoped it wasn’t a clerical desk job. How ironic, when she spent her programming life at a desk, for hours on end.

  A text message alerted her to an encrypted email on her server and she recognised the encryption header, but one she never expected to hear from again. She logged on to open it and stared at the message.

  “You’ve got to be fucking joking,” she muttered.

  Chapter 3

  Brian Dawson ran a tight ship, outlining the functions of the office but he reminded Leigh more of an accountant than someone deep in secrets. He confirmed her worst fears; she had a desk job. Fieldwork, he informed her, was for more experienced staff. Besides, with her particular skill set, she was too valuable to put at risk by sending her out into the world. She didn’t doubt his logic, but held off telling him she had experience, however limited. It left her questioning the purpose behind boot camp if they planned to stick her at a desk.

  “The visa project in Shannon,” he changed the topic after a 2-hour induction chat, testing her stamina and ability to keep interested to its limits. His monotone voice made it a challenge. “Interesting code,” he added, giving her the opportunity to elaborate. She didn’t fall for it, knowing he bluffed. No one had access to her code. The whole point of the encryption was to keep the visas safe. She raised an eyebrow at him.

  “If you broke my encryption, there’s no point in me being here,” she threw back.

  “I wouldn’t say there was no point, just…,” he answered.

  “Just what?”

  Her abrupt harshness took him by surprise, threw him off whatever he’d planned on saying next and he faltered.

  “Am I being played here?” she demanded.

  “Played? What do you mean?” His confusion at her question was genuine.

  “The UK office by all accounts handed over my file, handed me over to you guys.”

  “They did, but I don’t have access to it,” he admitted.

  “So you have no idea why I got an email from Huntington?”

  “An email from the British Home office?”

  “You know of another Huntington?” The gamble didn’t work, shocking him.

  “Why?” he asked. She shrugged.

  “No idea. I hoped you did.”

  “How would we?”

  She raised her eyebrow again.

  “Seriously? The head of an Intelligence Unit is asking that question? And on one of its new agents?” His dark eyes narrowed at her sarcastic tone. “Did they send my file to you guys, or not?”

  “They did,” he confirmed.

  “Then why do they want me in Huntington?”

  “They what?”

  “Who am I working for, you or them?” she put to him.

  “Us,” he answered.

  “You sure, because they sure as hell believe otherwise.”

  He pulled his keyboard and mouse towards him, typed a few words, and paused as if reading something on his screen. Offset on his desk she had no view from where she sat. With the blinds drawn on the window behind him, there was no chance of glimpsing a reflection in the glass.

  “When did you get the email?” he asked, glancing from his screen to her.

  “When I got home last night.”

  He typed again.

  “What did the email say?”

  “The Director requested a meeting. And by request I mean ordered.”

  “Did they indicate what they wanted?”

  “No.”

  He glanced at her at the belligerent tone, but returned to typing, engaged in an online conversation with someone more senior.

  “When do they want you?”

  “Last night, if they’d had their way.”

  “Did you respond to the email?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?” She heard his frustration at having to pry answers from her.

  “I told them to fuck off.”

  He stifled a laugh, but a small snigger betrayed him.

  “And their reply?”

  “Non-compliance was not an option. Their words, not mine.”

  He typed the latest bit of information.

  “We can have you on a plane in the next hour,” he read the message from the screen to her.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Because we want to know what they’re up to.”

  She sighed. So much for a quiet desk job.

  CHAPTER 4

  The car ride to Huntington was uneventful, a first for her. This was her fourth trip, and only the second time to be conscious for it. At least no one restrained her this time either, but the new Director implied that way was a consideration if Leigh continued to refuse. The abrupt I don’t work for you response Leigh shot back received a lengthy, detailed list of regulations on how she still did.

 
They assigned her a room upon her arrival, not that she planned on it being an overnighter, and informed that the Director would be available soon, a veiled instruction not to wander. Leigh took the hint, and being responsible for the downfall and demise of the last Director, she didn’t wish to start off on the wrong foot with the new one. When she received her summons she went, reminiscent of the long walk to the Principal’s office at school, or from the custody desk in the Garda Station to a cell, although that only happened once.

  Emily Walters greeted her with a warmth unknown to her predecessor, but it still didn’t hide a brisk manner and an efficiency Leigh liked.

  “Coffee? Black, if I’m not mistaken?” Walters offered, dropping a pod into the machine to brew without waiting for Leigh to answer. She was getting a coffee regardless. The Director brewed another for herself. They sat at a small meeting table, another deviation to how Lantry liked to work, using his oversized desk as an intimidation tactic.

  “Right, straight to the point,” she said, sliding a file towards Leigh. “Karl Gouderhoff is the reason you’re here.”

  “What’s he done now?” Leigh asked, ignoring the file.

  “How perceptive of you, and the reason for the cryptic email. I couldn’t risk word of his disappearance getting leaked.”

  “Disappearance?”

  “While leaving your care was serious enough, he then broke his conditions by leaving Ireland.”

  “Conditions?” a perplexed Leigh asked, finding the Director’s gaze piercing.

  “He never told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  “His pardon, if you want to call it that, came with conditions, most notably that he stay out of trouble, and confined to Ireland. His choice was to either stay with you, or close enough to watch over you.”