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4 April 2022
Livia
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Michael had to laugh at the sight of his phone submerged in her coffee cup. “I’m glad that wasn’t my personal mobile. What exactly did you do that for?”
Livia almost couldn’t believe her own impulsiveness. “Whether or not Director Philips sees it yet, by attacking Jack, the EM ensured that he and I were cut off from one another. I think Jack discovered something, or one of his people discovered something, that the EM didn’t want him to know. And this EM is very good. He or she disabled the cameras at Jack’s house and hacked the ones at the warehouse, enough to ensure that those pictures of Chad came to light. If the EM is tapped into the director’s phone, they could get to us through your mobile.”
Michael poked at the exposed edge of his former phone. “Is that really possible?”
She looked at him in a way she hoped wasn’t too condescending. “For once, what you’ve seen in the movies is accurate. Yes, it’s possible.”
“Okay. So given that the EM—I can’t believe we’re calling him that—has access and influence that reaches into the heart of MI-5 itself, why is he so opposed to killing people?”
“Let’s say she for now, and I think it’s very smart. Murder is a crime you can’t walk back. Computer hacking and discharging firearms in a public place can both be negotiated away. Really, if David doesn’t return any time soon, and we don’t get some serious leads within a fortnight, outside of MI-5, the entire event will turn into a cold case.”
“And inside, everyone will blame you.”
Livia’s enthusiasm waned slightly, and she nodded.
“You told the director you think the answer lies with Amanda Crichton. Do you still think so?”
“I don’t know. The whole thing with the flash is mad. I didn’t mention it, but he didn’t either. Does he really not know about it? If true, how terrifying is that?”
“Do you trust Director Philips?” Michael asked.
“He’s a politician and a survivor, so no, I don’t. But at the same time, he is intelligent and crafty. I’ve got him thinking of suspects other than me.”
“How do we discover who’s responsible?”
“I suspect we don’t, not from here.”
Michael was incredulous. “We can’t leave this to anyone else, not with your life on the line!”
“I’m not sure where my obligations lie. I do think we should tell Chad about this, which I can’t believe I’m saying.”
Michael laughed under his breath. “What a difference six hours makes.”
“Just as well, probably. The only reason you and I were playing detective last night in the first place was because nobody else was available. WECTU is composed of police forces, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the next step is for Five to muscle them out too. They should include them but, good intentions or not, Philips will want to hush up any conspiracy.”
“Maybe that’s what’s happening. Maybe that’s why Philips didn’t tell you much,” Michael said. “Maybe they already know something we don’t. Maybe they’ve already decided to hang you.”
“They.” Livia made a humming sound. “That usually means me. MI-5. I’m not sure what it means today.”
Then a rustling sound came from behind the open door to Cade’s room. In an instant, both Michael and Livia were on their feet. Livia carefully carried her coffee cup into the room and set it on the bureau. Cade was sitting up in bed.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi.” He blinked back sleep. “You’re Livia, right?”
“I am. And this is Michael.”
“Hey buddy,” Michael said in pretty good American. “How are you doing?”
“Can I go home yet?”
“How about some breakfast first?” Livia said. “You don’t want to time travel on an empty stomach.”
“It’s early, but maybe we can rustle up some food,” Michael said.
After a somewhat lengthy exploration on Cade’s part of the en-suite bathroom, they trooped down to the breakfast room. Even though it was still before first light, the house had woken up—if it had ever gone to sleep. Livia glanced towards the picture window. Michael had closed the curtains last night, but someone had pulled them wide again this morning, and the garden beyond was gray with the coming dawn.
Chad sat at the head of the table, Sophie on his right. Amelia was piling eggs on her plate for a full English (or rather, Welsh) breakfast. Candy appeared from the kitchen, yawning hugely, and took a sausage from a serving dish. Livia handed Cade a plate and urged him towards the sideboard where a full array of breakfast items had been laid out. “Help yourself.”
Cade turned the plate over and around. “Do you want me to put food on this?”
“That’s the general idea,” Michael said, forking three pieces of bacon onto his own plate.
Livia hadn’t ever given any thought to how long porcelain had been in existence, but she supposed it wasn’t seven hundred years. “What do you normally eat off of?”
“We have wooden bowls or trenchers.”
“A trencher is a flat piece of bread that acts as a plate,” Sophie said, spooning eggs into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. “You can eat it afterwards or it’s given to the pigs, who eat anything.”
Cade raised a tentative hand to Sophie. “Hi, Sophie.”
She patted the adjacent seat. “Sit next to me. I’ll translate if you need it.”
Cade set to his food with a will, just like Sophie, and Livia brought her mostly empty plate to the space next to Chad. She wasn’t a breakfast person, and though she’d always been told that food made up for lack of sleep, all she really wanted was fruit and bacon.
Michael took the seat on the other side of Livia, and when he sat, she met his eyes, and they both smiled. That he would choose to sit next to her felt like the most natural thing in the world and marked a transition from her not really being sure about what kind of friends they were to realizing that she didn’t have to worry any longer about whether or not he wanted to sit next to her.
Then she turned to Chad and gained his attention instantly by saying, “I talked to Director Philips.” For the next few minutes, she related the gist of the conversation, and then Michael added his concern that Livia was being set up by MI-5 to take the fall for everything.
“I’m ashamed to say I was more worried about myself last night,” Chad said, “but I fear more for you now.”
Amelia pushed her tablet towards Livia and Michael’s side of the table. It showed the front page of The Guardian. The lead story was about David, with a complete transcript of his conversation with Owain Williams. Because the story was digital, they had footage of the entire forty minute interview playing on a continuous loop.
But Amelia scrolled down the page to another story, this one about Chad. It included the two images that Candy had shown them.
Livia looked at Amelia. “This is your doing?”
“I’ve been up most of the night.” Amelia grimaced. “It behooved us to get ahead of any accusations that Chad was behind the shooting. Apparently, someone else contacted them moments after it happened. The only reason they hadn’t run the story yet was because they couldn’t get through to Chad for denial or confirmation.”
“How did they get those pictures?” Michael said. “WECTU has that bad of a leak?”
Amelia laughed mockingly. “They don’t reveal their sources. Likely it was the same hacker who flagged the images in the first place.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “The one in the Balkans.”
“Probably,” Livia ate a bit of bacon.
Chad leaned towards her. “You have to take this more seriously.”
“Believe me, I am.”
“She’s been through this before,” Michael said. “We are agreed that she isn’t going to take the fall for someone else’s treachery again. The hard part is knowing how best to prevent it.”
“They’re going to have to track down the two men who shot up the warehouse,” Amelia said. “The public will demand it.”
“I agree,” Livia said. “But even if they don’t capture them, they’ll come up with some names and put them on Interpol’s most wanted—if they aren’t there already.”
“My lawyers are on their way,” Chad said. “I didn’t do anything wrong, and you didn’t do anything wrong, but MI-5 is a black box into which you could disappear in a way I can’t. My instinct is to get you out of here, to safety.”
“To Ireland?” Michael said dryly.
“Why not?” Chad said.
“And still, nobody knows about Cade. Why?” Livia put her head close to Michael’s again to read the tablet, since he was scrolling through the news now himself.
But then he turned his head to look into her face. “What if the flash is what Jack Stine wanted to talk to the director about? Wouldn’t that make sense? It came through your department, right? The director didn’t confirm that anyone was missing this morning, but what if he was the one doing your job?”
Livia found her breath catching in her throat. “If that’s the case, Director Philips really is being kept in the dark. I should have told him about Cade.”
Chad leaned forward. “How is it possible to keep that kind of information from the Director-General of MI-5? How many people have the power to do that?”
Livia stared at Chad and then looked at Michael. “Not many. A handful.” And then she paused. “One. Grant Dempsey.”
“Why him?”
“He’s the head of Internal Security. He was the man to whom Jack Stine directly reported. Dempsey then reported to Philips.”
“What if Stine told Dempsey about Cade’s flash?” Michael said. “Even worse, what if Stine learned about or discovered the digital trail that would ultimately implicate Dempsey in the shooting at the warehouse—and reported his preliminary findings to Dempsey, as he should have done, since Dempsey is his boss. That’s a reason for Dempsey to take Stine out if I ever heard one.”
Livia’s breath caught in her throat. “If Dempsey is really behind everything, he played everyone brilliantly. It was Dempsey who argued with the D-G about David, just enough to be credible, but not enough to get himself sacked like Amanda.”
She could still hear the sharp crack when Dempsey had called David insane and slapped his hand on the polished wood of the table.
“He wanted to lock David up. He supported Amanda’s position until it became clear that she was in trouble. It was he who pointed out she had been watching too much Doctor Who.”
“That means we’re not safe here.” Michael rose to his feet. “Dempsey’s reach, seeing as how he’s still within MI-5, is nearly unlimited. We might not be safe anywhere.”
Then Mali swung around the frame of the door leading to the kitchen. “Everybody move! We’re under attack.”
