Rule 53 Read online

  She knew someone most likely to have his new number and she searched for Swayne’s, knowing a security watch list pinged her search, but she planned to be out before they traced the electronic path she’d taken, as she bounced the signal around the world. Swayne had two phones. Dammit. But Leigh identified Swayne’s private one, and downloaded the list of most recent and most dialled numbers.

  It wasn’t the most called or even the most recent number on the list, but a codename she’d recognised; Zero. Jake used it while in Ireland, hiding his ongoing communication with his home agency. His hypocrisy hurt her the most; lecturing her on the difficulties of this clandestine world, while immersed in it himself. How did Karl contact him? How could he have Jake’s new number? The only logical answer was they’d worked together on this. Had Karl sent Jake updates on her? So she couldn’t contact him, but Jake still felt he had the right to keeps tabs on her? That ache of loss and loneliness turned sour, and angry.

  With Jake’s new number, she pulled the list of recent calls, and found one where Jake made an outgoing call to the same number, an unregistered number, meaning a burner phone, a disposable one. Her eyes narrowed in anger as she saw the same number on an incoming call when Jake sat with her in the coffee shop. He fucking lied to her, to her face. If being on opposite sides concerning Rainey worried him, he would have hell to pay for lying to her about Karl.

  CHAPTER 12

  Leigh checked in with Director Walters at the appointed time, still using the Irish encrypted systems for the video link.

  “This… Rainey. Is he a Person of Interest? Is he connected to Gouderhoff?” Walters asked.

  “He arrived at the Embassy, but a check on him looked too clean, and staged,” Leigh admitted. “But people love him… well, except one.”

  “He can disarm and charm, when he turns it on. Not so much when it’s switched off,” Walters replied.

  “You’ve met him?”

  “In passing, a long time ago. I found the file from the reference you sent me, and only then remembered him. The Home Office looked into him several years ago, when his name started to ring bells.”

  “What bells?”

  “Someone used one of the agency’s ancient and dormant accounts to fund his education in the US. We’ve been keeping a casual eye on him.”

  “How ancient is the account?” Leigh asked.

  “You think it’s connected to Gouderhoff and his disappearance?” Walters asked.

  “It’s worth investigating.”

  “Whoever accessed the account kept their digital footprint and records clean. And trust me, where Exchequer money is concerned, the auditors don’t let go until they account for every penny.”

  “You’ve had the pleasure?”

  “Once or twice, and not what I’d call a pleasure. Imagine their nervousness over that account. Though it wasn’t unusual back in those days.”

  “What wasn’t?”

  “Agents using their backup money to pay for their mistakes.” Leigh looked puzzled. “Illegitimate children,” Walters enlightened her.

  “How often did that happen?”

  “More often than it should’ve. More often than the Department liked. They gave agents access to funds for emergencies, to pay for information, to bribe other officials, or to get out of a country in a hurry. The thinking at the time was if they had access to money they’d be less susceptible to bribery by other agencies or countries.”

  “How did that work out for you?”

  “You’ve read the rules and guidelines for operatives?”

  “Yeah, and they were strict.”

  “That’s the reason why, they implemented those rules in hindsight. Most of the agents in those days were male, and couldn’t keep it in their pants. Not only did they fund their secret love nests, they then paid for their offspring’s education, and that’s not cheap.”

  “How much was Rainey’s?”

  “More than we could afford, but whoever hid the account was clever enough to tie it to investments and significant interest bearing portfolios.” She saw Leigh stiffen and a frown crease her forehead. “What is it?” she asked.

  Leigh shook her head, but Walters sensed something was amiss. She decided not to push for the moment, but made a note along with the other notes she’d been making of this conversation. She’d probe in more detail later, when Leigh was off-guard.

  “Rainey’s origins are in Belfast, do you have intel on him not in the public domain?” Leigh asked.

  “You know everything we do.”

  “Any agents active there a year before he was born?”

  “We’re looking into that, and given the Troubles, it’s an extensive list, but most of them are long retired, or dead.”

  “Including my dad?” Walters’ hesitation gave Leigh her answer. “Was he there?”

  “We think so.”

  “Think?” Leigh’s challenge was unmistakable, and Walters saw a flash of Lee emerging.

  “We’re still trying to locate his earlier files in the archives.” Walters reined in her own temper at an operative questioning her in this fashion. But then again, she was dealing with Leigh Harte, and the lack of forthcoming information, or even the ability to locate it, disturbed her as much as it annoyed Leigh. She understood Leigh’s stance. As an operative, information was vital. As a software developer, it was essential, but with her father, it must be a matter of life or death. If Lee’s later cases, and ones on digital record, were to go by, they were.

  “We’ll find them Leigh, but if someone misplaced them…” She left the rest unsaid, saw Leigh nodding in understanding. “We’re taking this opportunity to get them into digital format, but that too will take time. I’ll send you what we find relating to Gouderhoff, Rainey or your father.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  “You’re convinced your father’s involved.” It was a statement, not a question, and Leigh’s answer confirmed it.

  “It’s an educated guess, and explains why Karl called in a coded message and sacrificed his freedom.”

  “Any other intel on Rainey?”

  “Yes, fun fact, he had a secret service type security when he attended the Embassy dinner.”

  “Define secret service type for me.”

  “Jake was there with the Senator, but he was protecting Rainey. He caught me watching.”

  “As in Agent Mann, your former lover?”

  “As in.”

  “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Not for me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “He left me and returned to the States.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “He wasn’t happy I stayed in the intelligence world.”

  “And he wanted to keep you safe while he got to play the hero.”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Leigh laughed.

  “Ugh.” Walters was as disgusted as Leigh at the double standard. “Why was he assigned to protect Rainey?”

  “He said they appointed Rainey as a special advisor, but there’s nothing official, or even unofficial that I could find.”

  “That level of secrecy is worrying.”

  “Not unless his connections run deep, maybe back to factions in Belfast.”

  “Like IRA connections? It’s plausible, and a good reason for the secrecy. No one wants allegations of terrorist connections to funding, no matter how old those connections are.”

  “Except… Rainey isn’t an Irish catholic surname. The connections are likely to be Loyalist.”

  “You must excuse my ignorance on this, but wouldn’t the Home Office be more concerned with the Nationalists than the Loyalists? Why would we send agents into a pro-English group?”

  “That’s the part that’s throwing me, but my dad wasn’t just working for you guys, he was an Irish cop. Maybe he was working in that capacity.”

  “You’re convinced he’s involved.” It wasn’t a question, but she saw Leigh frown again. “Help me out here, Leigh, what’s running throug
h your mind?”

  “It’s several small quirky things. My dad excelled at encryptions. He taught me how to do them when I was a kid, so if he wanted to hide something, a file for example, he could do it. Then there’s Rainey’s financials, the interest bearing and investment portfolios. Dad set up my trust fund in a similar way.”

  “It could be just a coincidence.”

  “My dad didn’t believe in coincidences, or accidents, said there was no such thing.”

  “He may be right. Are you’re saying there’s a connection between your father and Rainey?”

  “That’s crossed my mind”, Leigh answered, worried. “If it’s not my dad, then it’s Karl. But if it’s Karl, he wouldn’t have made the message so cryptic, and I’d have figured it out by now.” Walters knew that wasn’t an idle boast by Leigh. She broke the encryption on Lantry’s files, uncovering the full extent of his illegal activities. While it took days, she still succeeded where the brightest in the UK’s National Cyber Security Centre at GCHQ failed.

  “Keep trying, and we’ll continue to do our best here,” Walters ended the conversation.

  CHAPTER 13

  Leigh ensured the connection was dead before turning to Donal Brennan.

  “I’m not comfortable playing the double agent,” she told him.

  “Don’t think of it as a double agent, more a conduit for intra-European intelligence sharing,” he said.

  “Still sounds like bullshit no matter how many convoluted superfluous words you throw at it. WB Yeats you are not.”

  “Aw, that almost hurt my feelings.”

  “I’ll try harder the next time,” she shot back. He snorted.

  “So they still have nothing solid on Rainey,” he summarised. “Nice deflection on the origin of his surname.”

  “I had to give her something,” she confessed. “I still don’t have a solid read on her, so I’m not sure how much of this she’s buying.”

  “You don’t think the Loyalist comment worked?”

  Leigh shrugged. “Again, hard to say,” she admitted.

  “And your loyalties?” he ventured, amused by her glare.

  “I’m Irish, working for the Irish government. My dad instilled a strong sense of nationalism when I was younger, and a strong sense of duty. Ireland comes first.”

  “Back in the ‘70’s and ‘80’s, on the wrong street in Belfast, they’d have shot you for that sentiment. So, British money funded Rainey’s education, and your English friends are unaware we discovered his links to old Republican sympathisers and supporters over here. How does your old man fit into this?”

  “You heard what I told Walters.”

  “It’s a good thing he didn’t have access to Department of Justice or Defence files.”

  “They found something?”

  Brennan nodded. “A cross-border action with the RUC, the predecessor to the current PSNI. Your old man’s unit is now the CTI.”

  “Counter Intelligence?

  “Counter Terrorism Intelligence,” he corrected her. “DoD’s G2 Intelligence Unit, our unit, managed to dig out files relating to it and they’re scanning copies to email to us.”

  “My dad’s mentioned in them?”

  “More than mentioned. Looks like he was active there. If the hint at indiscretions that Brit was throwing out is correct, your old man was more than just active on the intelligence front.” He chuckled at his own joke, and gave her a devious smirk as she frowned again.

  CHAPTER 14

  Leigh didn’t need to contrive a run-in or accidental meeting with Nathan Rainey. He bumped into her, literally, on another visit to the Irish Trade Officer at the Embassy. The physical collision was enough to send his papers scattering across the marble floor of the Embassy entrance.

  “Oh shit,” she blurted, hunkering to pick them up, but he chuckled.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s not every day a girl sends my world upside-down.”

  She groaned and shook her head.

  “Yeah, that was terrible, but the American chicks love it.”

  “You should try running into one of them next time,” she threw back.

  “A stinging barb that almost makes me miss home,” he answered.

  “Only almost? I’ll try harder the next time,” she answered, only to get a laugh in reply, and again that unsettling, familiar sensation to it.

  “You were my Irish bodyguard the other night,” he said.

  “Was I?”

  “I don’t wish to sound conceited…”

  “Heaven forbid…”

  He ignored her jibe. “But while I’m used to women following me around, you actually seem capable of coming to my aid, if I needed.” She raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

  “Or kick your arse, if needed. Maybe I was protecting the silverware and collection of artworks,” she retorted, and he laughed again.

  “These American women don’t have a clue how to win an Irishman’s heart.”

  “Or rip it out,” she replied, receiving another laugh. She handed him his papers. “I trust you can sort them without help.”

  “Ah, sure, we men are as helpless as lambs in the fine art of organisation.”

  “Oh god, you are definitely Irish with that level of bullshit,” she told him.

  “Are you saying you’re immune to my charms?” he tried to sound offended.

  “That was you being… charming?”

  “I take it back, I’m not missing home.”

  “Yes, your female American following will find your banter less… egregious,” she shot back.

  “Egregious? That’s an awful big word.”

  “You can download a dictionary app on your phone if you’re stuck on the meaning,” she retorted.

  “So, you follow me around at official functions, use big words and reckon you can kick my arse. I might have an opening for a Personal Assistant with your skill set.”

  “Try an employment agency,” she answered, receiving yet another laugh that unsettled her.

  “Mr Rainey?” the Trade Executive Officer interrupted them, and Nathan gave him a perfunctory wave, then extended a hand to Leigh.

  “Nate Rainey,” he introduced himself. She took his pro-offered hand and he shook it.

  “Leigh Harte,” she replied.

  “We’ll do coffee, I’ll have the Executive Officer set us up,” he said, striding further into the Embassy before she could object.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jake considered phoning her as he sat in the surveillance van, fuming. Which part of stay away from Rainey did she not get he wondered as he watched them through the security video feed. Even though intel came through that it was Rainey who organised this, Jake suspected Leigh’s complicity in this coffee date. He knew how charming and disarming she could be, when she wanted.

  He felt an ache again, a hollowness in his chest, thinking of her with another man, even if it was just for coffee. Bah! Leigh never did a just for. She was in play, making him determined to find out what that was, and for whom. Experience and a sixth sense said it wasn’t just Huntington.

  He listened to their conversation, trying to interpret Leigh’s questions. To anyone else listening in, they were having an innocuous conversation, mixed with that Irish humour he never did grasp; part banter, part insult that never seemed to be insulting to the other party, so long as you were Irish and understood their unfathomable ways. To them, the insult was the ultimate level in flirting, the greater the insult, the greater the flirt level. And Rainey was in flying form, rebuffed at a similar pace by Leigh, matching insult for insult. Jake had to ask himself if he’d really grown tired of her ways, of if he felt he’d never measured up to such exacting standards. Not that Leigh imposed such standards on him. Jake imposed them on himself, yet tried to lay the blame with Leigh. Listening to Rainey’s banter and retorts left him feeling inadequate, compounding the suspicion Jake had that he wasn’t good enough for Leigh, with Nathan now giving him a masterclass in how to talk to Irish women.
r />   The Irish never spoke directly. They barely concealed truths in their humorous retorts and jibes. That way, you got the message without being offended. The American way, he discovered while living in Ireland, was too direct for these people, too abrupt, but it was a forgivable offence because, and he could quote the line verbatim; sure he was only a Yank, sure he wouldn’t know any better.

  He tried to figure out if he should be abashed, or insulted. And if he said it was an insult; sure, it was only a helpful comment, what reason had he to feel insulted? The vagaries of the Irish disposition perplexed him, consoling and sympathetic on one hand, scathing on the other. And no clear happy medium. Jake found himself at the losing end of assumption, at falling for the inaccurate hype of the simple Irish. It was a lie, a ruse to snare the unsuspecting. There was nothing simple about these people; especially not their minds, which he’d discovered to his cost. If Americans considered themselves superior, the Irish had a unique and subtle way of disabusing him of that sense of superiority, not even realising they had knocked him down a peg or two, until it was too late.

  He listened to it playing out between Nathan and Leigh, experiencing a pang of jealousy and inadequacy at not being able to learn the rules of this game. Even Karl had the hang of it, having listened to the pair in her kitchen, yet it was far from bitter or squabbling. Jake concluded that Karl’s time with the Harte’s in his youth had taught him these intricate rules of engagement.

  Jake’s attention returned in full to the conversation at Leigh’s new direction.

  “It takes a sizable trust fund to pay for that snazzy education in Harvard,” she said.

  “Ooh, checked me out did you? What won you over, my lyrical northern accent?” Rainey replied, though his accent had softened since his time in the States.

  “If I’m being considered for the job of your Personal Assistant, it’s in my best interest to vet my prospective employer.”

  Jake wasn’t sure what he’d heard and checked the text transcript on the adjoining screen, frowning at this turn in the conversation.