“And the problem with the network, how widespread is the issue?”
There’s no response, even when Black pulls his mobile phone down to check.
Johnny laughs, though when Black turns to stare at him, his laughter dries up. “Come on, Black, that was right hilarious. You asking about it and then it drops out. It’s been like that all day. On the way over, the radio said the network would be in and out till the tower gets fixed.”
Black looks out the window, his thinking practically loud enough to hear, then makes another call. It goes through. He’s speaking before the other person has the chance to say a word. “A series of fortunate events mean I’m here until the airport isn’t being as closely watched as it currently is.”
O’Leary’s distinctive voice is easy to make out. “I’ve already informed Paddy O’Connor I’m unwell. He’s aware Shamus will be taking Mass in my absence.”
“And nothing else has changed?”
“What do you want, Black? You want the glory of taking a man down? Or would you like to sit and watch our plan come together?” O’Leary condescends.
Black’s nostrils flare, and he rubs between his eyes, trying not to erupt. His anger adds another level to his scent, and my throat starts to close over as a result. Once he’s got a better grip on his emotions, he speaks, though his voice is still strained. “I’d say it’s proper I’d be the one.” He’s whip quick in his response, his assertiveness rocking the tiny car we’re holed up in.
There’s a pause. It lasts so long, I wonder if the call’s dropped out again. Black’s increasing agitation suggests he’s listening to things I can’t hear, and then O’Leary’s oily laugh echoes through the handset before he asks, “What do you want in return?”
“Aisling.”
Another laugh. “That’s all you want?”
Black clenches his teeth. “Yes.”
“We’ll talk once we have the outcome we’ve been praying for,” O’Leary taunts. The bleeping sound of the call disconnecting is lost under a furious rumble from Black.
The noises and aggression inside the tiny car has me moving. It’d be a bad move not to stir awake.
Johnny’s a fucking whip, and before I even get to move an inch, he’s shoving my head down. “Stop! You’re feckin’ lucky you’re still alive. Don’t be pushing me right now.”
Fuck off, I scream inside my head. “So…so…sorry,” I whimper, throwing in a few shuddering inhales and scenting scared.
I might have flunked the scent manipulation class in the academy, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t pick up a few handy hints.I can only manage it for a second or two, but it’s enough and adds to the picture I’m a victim.
“We need to get off the street. Can I move us underground to the parking area?” Johnny says, keeping his hand on my head.
There’s a flurry of text messages hitting their phones.
“Goddamn it!” Black roars.
I flinch. And there’s no acting involved.
Johnny’s hand disappears as he checks his phone. “I’m getting texts from days ago. They're all out of time and date. Jesus wept. What a fucking mess. Glad we don’t be needing any help.” He laughs. “Imagine that, calling 999 and they show up days late.”
Black smirks at Johnny before he turns his focus back to his phone and works through the slew of missed messages. He mutters under his breath and gets so worked up, Johnny has to crack the driver’s window down a couple of inches so we can all get some fresh air. I whimper in places and tremble whenever Johnny glares at me.
My knees are cramping and my back aches from being in such a confined space, and I’m busting for the loo. Thankfully, after what feels like forever, Black flickers his fingers as a sign for Johnny to get moving.
After parking, Black arranges with Johnny which room I’m to be put in. Apparently, Olga has had enough and is returning to Russia. Catalina, is staying in her place, is on her way to get me ready for transport during Mass. Exciting times for everyone.
As soon as I’m standing, pins and needles make it impossible to walk. Johnny starts dragging me instead. Black takes one look at my struggle before rolling his eyes and leaving Johnny to deal with me alone.
The building attached to the cathedral is like an underground rabbit warren; lots of rooms going off rooms and hardly any natural light. Clearly, Johnny’s been here before because hedoesn’t hesitate turning this way and that until he gets to the room Black was referring to.
The door slams behind us, and the dark of the room is like a black void until a light flickers on. His hand claps over my mouth, and he speaks into my ear, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I haven’t done a sweep of the room yet. Play dead till I’m finished.”
“Cut my hands free, at least,” I mouth back at him.
