Kaitlin watched through the window of the recording booth as Rory hunched over the microphone. He was a natural performer, she had to give him that. For the New York Chronicle podcast, he weaved all the complex information into a gripping tale. She could see from the light in Rachel Cohen’s eyes that this was going even better than expected.
When they walked out, Rachel and Rory were laughing as if they were old friends.
‘How does this work?’ Rory asked Rachel.
‘Once we’ve edited the podcast, we’re going to release it immediately,’ she said. ‘Flood social media. This is too big to sit on. The editor’s clearing the front page so we can go big on this in today’s print final. Looks like you’re going to become something of a celebrity. I’d brace yourself.’
Rory held his arms wide. ‘In my mind, Rachel, I’ve always been a celebrity.’
‘I’m serious. You don’t realise how these things take off.’
As they took the elevator down, having bid Rachel farewell, Kaitlin asked, ‘Are you sure this was the right thing to do?’
Rory licked a fingertip and smoothed an eyebrow in his reflection in the brass plate around the floor buttons. He actually seemed to be relishing what was lying ahead.
‘No going back now.’
‘If they go for your reputation—’
He chuckled. ‘“What reputation?” many might say. My calculation: they’ll be too busy scrambling to control the public fallout. All those questions about who knew what, when. Why it wasn’t made public. How high did the cover-up go.’
So many risks, though. How this developed was now out of their hands.
Rory seemed to see her doubts. ‘We’d got as far as we could with our investigation. All of the passengers we’ve got on our list, all of the agencies trying to block us at every turn. We needed something spectacular to reset the rules. It’s a new game now and maybe when the dust has cleared, we can see the road ahead.’
‘To finding Conor and the others?’
He nodded. ‘We do that, it was all worth it, right? All the dangers, the threats. A better tomorrow. That’s my reasoning for what some might say is a reckless roll of the dice. This is the moment of our greatest success – or greatest danger.’
Cameras flashed. Rory’s eyes flared as he stood behind the forest of microphones at the podium. The pack of journalists swelled around the front of the low stage, desperate to catch his attention. As Kaitlin scanned the crowd from the back of the room, it seemed to her as though every major publication from anywhere in the world was represented here. This was big news.
She felt a rush of joy that the families of the passengers of Flight 702 were finally getting their concerns heard and, hopefully, the answers they deserved after so long in the dark. But behind it all she was still afraid. That seemed to be the mood music for her life these days.
The media event had been called at short notice owing to the burgeoning public interest. The New York Chronicle was keen to publicise its exclusive and had offered the use of its boardroom. Turned out it was barely big enough.
As Rory fielded the questions with all his usual panache, Kaitlin zoned out the incessant shouting of journalists and Rory’s smooth answers while skimming social media. The Chronicle account had gone viral. Retweets piling up. Facebook groups burning with conspiracy theories. Rory’s face was everywhere: The Man Who Blew the Lid Off the Flight 702 Cover-up.
She was glad it wasn’t her.
As Rory slipped off the stage, Rachel Cohen wrapped up the event, telling the hacks that there would be more revelations to come. The airline was to hold a media conference, and soon there would be a response from the US and UK governments.
Rory nodded to the rear door and Kaitlin darted out with him. They headed straight to the elevators before they could be pursued.
‘My cell’s buzzing with messages from the families,’ Rory said. ‘All those folks who rejected me out of hand. They now want to be a part of this. We’re going to get this class action off the ground.’
‘You did a great job there. I’m so proud of you.’
Rory clamped his mouth shut for a moment. Then, his voice a little hoarse: ‘It’s been a while since anyone’s said that to me.’
He was still quiet as they crossed the lobby, but once they were out in the chill morning, his natural exuberance flourished once more.
‘We need to lie low while this plays out,’ he said. ‘My investigator has booked us an Airbnb in Williamsburg under an assumed name. Wait here while I hail a cab.’
While Rory dived off the kerb, waving his arm, Kaitlin pressed herself back against the wall of the Chronicle building. She kept her head down, trying to look inconspicuous.
She jolted when a hand grabbed her arm. Trying to wrench herself free, she glanced round. Into the face of Agent Dennison.
‘You made a big mistake,’ he growled. ‘And there’s going to be a price to pay.’
Kaitlin could hear Rory calling her name and sounding increasingly panicked, but Dennison had dragged her a little way down the street and round the side of the building out of sight. Though he wasn’t rough with her as she struggled, he was insistent and his eyes burned with a light that worried her.
‘Let me go,’ she gasped.
‘I’m not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite. I want to make sure you’re safe.’
‘This isn’t the way to do it.’
‘Who’s that guy you’re with?’
‘My friend.’
‘You trust him?’
‘Yes!’
Dennison peered round the edge of the building, watching Rory as he searched back and forth.
‘How did you get out?’ she demanded.
‘That doesn’t matter now.’ Dennison seemed to weigh the situation, then he dragged Kaitlin out into view. ‘We’re over here,’ he bellowed.
Rory raced down the street when he saw them. ‘Leave her alone,’ he demanded, ‘or so help me—’
‘Don’t pick a fight with me,’ Dennison snarled. ‘I’m on your side.’
‘Rory, it’s OK. This is Agent Dennison,’ Kaitlin said with haste.
‘Not agent any more,’ Dennison said. ‘The FBI are done with me. Just Jim.’
Rory scrutinised him, no doubt trying to see what kind of trouble lay ahead. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘You made a mistake identifying the White Matchmaker as the key to this. My contacts tell me the truth about her is going to come out soon. Then you two will be out in the open, no cover, and ripe for being taken down.’ He looked around. ‘We need to get out of sight.’
Kaitlin hesitated for a moment, then she made a decision. ‘Let’s take him with us to Williamsburg.’
‘You sure?’ Rory asked.
‘Yes. I-I trust him.’
‘Thanks,’ Dennison said. ‘And you’re right to. I admit I got a little … erratic … before. Desperation does that to you. But you know that, right?’ he said to Kaitlin.
She nodded.
Minutes later, they were in a yellow cab, heading away from Delancey and across the Williamsburg Bridge.
No one spoke.
‘This is what I meant,’ Dennison said when he was standing in front of the TV in the apartment. CNN played a picture of Rory followed by a media conference hosted by the UK foreign minister.
‘Allegations made this morning that Flight 702 was brought down by the terrorist known as the White Matchmaker have already started to unravel,’ the newscaster was saying. ‘At a briefing at the Foreign, Commonwealth & Development Office in London, an intelligence report was revealed that showed the White Matchmaker is currently incarcerated in Kabul, Afghanistan. Real name Samantha Griegen, also known as Uzma Griegen, she gained her title because she was a white Westerner who recruited young girls for the Somali-based radical militant group Al-Shabaab …’
Dennison muted the TV and turned to Rory and Kaitlin. ‘That wasn’t the White Matchmaker on Flight 702.’
‘Who was it, then?’ Kaitlin asked, bewildered. She’d been so sure. She turned to Rory. ‘Your contact said—’
‘I know.’ Rory rubbed his chin. ‘She’d been Fed intel.’
‘This is one smokescreen after another,’ Dennison interrupted. ‘This is how these people work. You can’t trust anything. The lies and the half-truths pile up until you can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.’
‘Laura Jones – Chrissy – was on the flight,’ Kaitlin pressed. ‘She was posing as the wife of Aziz. You’re telling me there’s nothing in that?’
‘Not at all.’ Dennison tossed the remote aside. ‘The news is going to come out later. A leak, but a true one. The teacher, Laura Jones, was an MI6 agent investigating the virologist’s connections to Iranian intelligence. That’s why there was so much secrecy surrounding her identity.’
Kaitlin flopped on the sofa. Rory buried his face in his hands.
‘OK, so I’m now the public face of a debunked conspiracy theory, plastered across all media,’ he began. ‘Nobody’s going to trust a word I say any more. So, when all my past indiscretions are rolled out, I won’t stand a chance at defending myself. Completely, utterly discredited.’
Kaitlin felt her heart go out to Rory, but when he took his hands away, she was relieved to see that he didn’t look too dispirited.
‘The details were wrong, but the thrust of the argument is correct,’ Rory continued. He was staring into the middle distance, speaking as his mind turned over the evidence. ‘MI6 was investigating Aziz. They were clearly worried about him. There’s something there.’
‘You’re damn right,’ Dennison said. ‘The problem is that now you’ve played your cards, you’ve got nothing. And all of those people who want to stop the truth about Flight 702 from being brought into the light are going to come for you.’
Kaitlin sagged. She really didn’t want to go off-grid again. The thought of running and hiding crushed her.
As they all bounced ideas around, Rory’s cell buzzed and his eyes lit up when he checked it. He glanced at her before answering, grinning.
‘Maybe I’ve found our lifeline.’
‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Renee.’ The underground parking lot reeked of car fumes.
‘Trust me, I want that way more than you.’
She sounded weary, Rory thought, and, if anything, she looked even more worried than the last time they’d met. Her eyes darted around the parked cars, searching for any sign of movement.
‘I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again,’ he said.
‘As much as I hate it, I felt I owed you. The false information about the White Matchmaker was on me.’
‘You didn’t know it was false.’
‘I’m trying to do the right thing here, Rory, so why don’t you keep your mouth shut?’
‘OK. Carry on.’
‘I saw your face all over the media. Getting torn apart. You deserve a lot of things, but you don’t deserve that, not when it was clear you were taking a risk for the sake of the families. If it was just about the class action, you wouldn’t have gone to those lengths. So …’ She took a deep breath. ‘I have some new information. This, I’m sure, is correct because it’s so fragmentary and it’s only been circulated in the highest circles of the industry. Suppressed. I could be putting myself at risk even mentioning it to you.’
Rory felt his intuition tingle. ‘Go on.’
‘You could call it a rumour. It could be nothing. But we have an eyewitness report of an aircraft flying too low near Thule Air Base on the north-western coast of Greenland, followed by the sound of an explosion. That’s our northernmost air base and the only one in the Arctic Circle, and—’
‘It’s on the flight path 702 was taking when it swung north from its transatlantic route.’ Rory felt a rush of excitement. ‘That’s a coincidence too far.’
‘You’re going to Greenland, aren’t you?’ Renee asked in an even wearier tone.
Rory grinned.