‘Have you seen the news?’ Rory’s voice blared from the phone as Kaitlin stepped out of the hotel bar into the night.
‘What’s wrong?’ Her heart thumped at the urgency of his words, but she couldn’t read any emotion in his voice beyond passion.
‘Just get over to my place, fast as you can.’
Half an hour later, Rory swung open the door to his apartment and Kaitlin all but tumbled in, breathless. He was wearing a monogrammed silk dressing gown and pyjamas, but his mood was electric. He spun away from her to the TV, where CNN droned.
‘What is it?’ Kaitlin gasped. The words died in her mouth when she stood beside him. All was clear.
The screen showed moving images of waves breaking on pebbles under a grey sky, a line of snowy hills in the distance. On the beach, people in heavy coats moved around a twisted slab of grey metal.
The headline underneath said: Wreckage from Flight 702 Found off the Coast of Nova Scotia, Canada.
Kaitlin felt ice water flood through her. ‘Is this for real?’ she breathed.
‘They’ve already done tests on what they pulled from the water. Said they found traces of explosive on it.’
The newscaster’s voice hummed from the TV, but Kaitlin flipped into her own grey world where none of the words reached her. She felt the stew of long-suppressed emotions bubble. Since the news of the flight, Conor had been caught in some in-between world, not alive or dead. Lost and waiting to be found. She’d never really allowed herself to hope, but despite her best intentions, a small flame had flickered somewhere in the depths of her mind.
Now, though, it was all over. An ending. Only the explanations remained to be found.
This shouldn’t be hitting her so hard. But there it was. She felt hot tears burn and she scrubbed them away with the back of her hand before Rory could see. He was wagging a finger at the TV screen, running away at the mouth about something or other.
‘What are you saying?’ she said, pulling herself back.
Rory looked round and from the way his face softened, he clearly understood what was churning away inside.
‘Hey, are you OK?’ he breathed. ‘Sorry. I’ve been a total dick. Got myself carried away with the detail.’ He dipped in his dressing gown pocket and pulled out a handkerchief bearing his initials. ‘Here.’
She smiled and took it, dabbing at her eyes. ‘Thanks. Don’t worry about me. I just had a moment. Tell me again what you were saying.’
‘OK. That trace of explosives. Looks like the terrorism theory is the most likely.’
‘So, not a virus released on board, or people getting sick from something the evangelists picked up in the Congo. You’re thinking the White Matchmaker?’
‘I could construct a case for Drago’s mob trying to eliminate their boss and his wife, maybe. Or … Well, no point speculating. We need something solid. Though this could be the point where the authorities start doing something instead of trying to cover it up.’
Kaitlin thought back to the warning that Thomas had given. She mentioned his cryptic comments to Rory and his involvement with the intelligence fraternity and the investigation into the Elysians.
‘OK, there’s some meat there,’ Rory said. ‘Something to chew over. I think we need a night to sleep on this. Come back fresh tomorrow and decide on the way forwards.’ He hesitated. ‘You going to be all right?’
‘I’ll be fine. Probably good to get some alone time with my thoughts.’
Kaitlin traipsed back through the streets, dwelling on that image of twisted wreckage on the beach, trying not to imagine the point that had left it that way. Leaving the lights in the apartment turned off, she slumped cross-legged on her bed and looked out across the park to the illuminated skyline.
That was the moment she saw the notification for a new voicemail on her original cell.
Absently, she picked it up and called. The message played.
Kaitlin?
She felt the blood drain from her and for an instant, she thought she was going mad.
Kaitlin? It’s me.
Haunted, her hands trembled and she almost dropped the phone.
It’s Conor.
The grief, she told herself. You can’t really be hearing this.
The message fizzed with some kind of interference. What sounded like ghost voices babbled, fading in and out, the words incomprehensible. After another jolt of static, it cleared and the voice came through loud and clear.
Definitely, definitely Conor’s voice.
I’m OK. We’re all OK. I can’t get …
The call faded again and Kaitlin strangled a cry of frustration.
His message faded back in:
We’re alive. We’re all alive. Listen, we need your help. Help us. Help us.
The message ended abruptly.