A square of light from the Rosewood Art Gallery flooded across the sidewalk. Inside, a well-heeled but dressed-down crowd swilled back champagne as they drifted around the private viewing. The wintry night air was sharp, but it was warmed with the spicy scents from the curry house two blocks over.
Kaitlin eased away from the light and the activity to a gated entryway, where she nestled in the shadows. She didn’t have to wait long.
The figure walked up from the direction of Bed-Stuy, hunched in a thick coat, head kept well down. Back at the apartment, Dennison was monitoring events and making calls to his contacts. Rory wasn’t back from his assignation yet, but when he’d called, he was buzzing with anticipation. Funny how things turned out. Only a few hours ago, the decision to go public had seemed like a disaster. But Rory’s deep throat wouldn’t have stepped forwards to help them if they hadn’t gone so spectacularly off course. Humiliation could be a positive force.
‘You came,’ she said. ‘I thought I might have seen the last of you.’
Thomas slipped into the shadows beside her. His gaze flickered around the street. ‘You really expected me to stay away when you leave a message saying Conor is still alive?’
‘I didn’t want to tell you until I’d found out more, but you weren’t responding and I was getting desperate.’
Kaitlin watched Thomas’ face as she played back the voicemail. A tremor crossed his features when he heard Conor’s voice. She knew what he was feeling, how he’d struggled keeping all those emotions locked down tight for so long for fear they could only be released in a deluge.
‘It’s him. You know it is,’ she said.
He nodded.
‘What do you think?’
For a long moment, Thomas said nothing. He seemed to be wrestling with himself, she thought. She reached out and touched his arm, prompting him.
‘There’s something I didn’t tell you. I wanted to protect you, but …’ He shook his head. ‘Just after the plane took off, Conor sent me a message: something’s going down. That was what he said. That was all he said. All those hackers and activists and psychos and whatever in that utilitarian group he loved. Conor was a keen part of that.’
Kaitlin gaped. ‘He was with them?’
‘They all had different agendas. Some were more dangerous than others. Some were just crazy. But they all shared one aim: to disrupt the global status quo. I persuaded Conor to spy on them and inform on any who were likely to be a threat to life. Then I could channel it up the chain of command.
‘Conor got word that they were planning something big. Something to do with a biological weapon that involved the airline industry. The intel was strong enough to be true but vague enough that we had nothing solid enough to go on. We didn’t know where or when. MI6, the CIA, all the agencies on both sides of the Atlantic were working on it.’
‘What else are you keeping from me?’ She heard her voice crack.
‘Nothing, honestly.’
‘All those agencies. They have to know what happened. Where Conor is.’
‘Maybe they do. But I don’t. I was cut out of the loop the minute Flight 702 vanished. Any intel after that was purely on a need-to-know basis. That’s when I started pulling away from the security services. At first, I thought I was locked out because of my relationship with Conor, but whatever went down it seems like a lot of the agencies have stopped talking about it.’ Thomas shuddered, pressed his hand across his eyes.
‘What is it?’ Kaitlin breathed.
‘The guilt’s been eating me up since that night.’ He swallowed, fighting to control his emotions. ‘What if … What if I’m responsible? By passing on Conor’s last message. What if I’m responsible for his death? The death of all those passengers? The grief those families felt. You … your mom and dad …’
‘How could you be responsible?’
Thomas stared at her with glistening eyes. ‘Governments have to take hard choices. If someone on Flight 702 was suspected of harbouring a biological weapon, the decision might have been taken to shoot the plane down.’
‘But Conor’s alive, Thomas!’ Kaitlin gripped his arm, willing him to believe her. ‘He’s alive.’
‘Is he, though? How do we know that for sure?’
‘You heard the message!’
‘I heard Conor’s voice. What it means, I don’t know. You don’t know. An old recording? A trick to flush you out? More disinformation? That’s how intelligence agencies work. They don’t need to deny. They only need to confuse. The more confusion the better. Until everyone’s wandering around in a fog, not able to tell what’s truth or lie. Lost for good.’
Kaitlin slumped. ‘Conor’s alive, Thomas, I know he is.’
Thomas squeezed her shoulder. ‘I can help you disappear,’ he murmured. ‘A new identity. A new life. So you don’t have the government breathing down your neck for the rest of your days.’
‘No.’ Kaitlin felt her defiance burn. ‘I’m not running away. I’m seeing this through to the end. You walk away if you want, that’s down to you. But not me.’
Thomas flinched as if she’d slapped him.
‘My friend has a lead. A big one. If this is where the answers lie, then I know the risks are going to be huge. But I have to do this, Thomas, for Conor. And I’m not sure I can do it on my own.’ She bit her lip. ‘Will you help me?’
Thomas and Dennison eyed each other over the coffee table like two competing species. They didn’t trust anyone. In their business, that was probably a healthy response, Kaitlin thought. She set a Diet Coke down in front of Thomas and a Jack Daniels in front of Dennison, then cupped her hands round her matcha tea. Even her generous hospitality didn’t thaw the atmosphere.
A key rattled in the door and they all turned. Rory whirled in, beaming and excited. Kaitlin felt her spirits lift instantly.
He looked stunned to find yet another new addition to the team sitting in the apartment, but once he’d been introduced to Thomas, he said, ‘This could be the big one. My contact heard about a lawsuit over in Greenland that’s being handled by a colleague. The day Flight 702 went missing, someone was hit by a piece of flying debris. This person said they saw a plane flying close to Thule Air Base. Too close. And then a piece of metal shattered their windshield.’
Dennison slammed his glass on the table. ‘Damn.’
‘Thule would fit the new flight path,’ Thomas mused.
‘The eyewitness think it crashed,’ Rory continued. ‘They heard an explosion, or what they think was an explosion. A loud boom.’
‘Could anyone survive that?’ Kaitlin asked.
‘Maybe,’ Dennison said.
‘Possibly,’ Thomas said.
‘Yes, absolutely,’ Rory insisted. ‘If it was flying low enough, yes. Trust me, I have old case files about this clogging up my office. But here’s the thing. Even if the plane did crash, it wasn’t in the sea.’
‘So the wreckage was planted,’ Dennison interjected. ‘A cover-up.’ He snatched up his bourbon and threw it back in one gulp.
Rory nodded, grinning. ‘Something’s going on at that air base.’