The ferry docked twenty minutes early and by five-fifteen they pulled into the car park at The Westbury, Dublin’s finest hotel.
“You’ll not be expectin’ me to pay for this will you?”
“My turn. Anyway, it’s a bargain after Buxton Manor.”
Without consulting her, he checked them into a Luxury Suite with the king-sized double. He figured that, after the previous night, she’d be relaxed about sharing it with him, provided he was on his best behaviour.
They set up the laptop and she logged onto Reinhardt Baer, went through all the complex security and set up a payment to RBM Industries Ltd using the IBAN number. The account identity came back as verified.
“How much?”
“I told him a thousand.”
“What a waste.”
“It’s petty cash in the scheme of things and we need to bank a little credibility.” She entered the amount, applied her fingers to the device and as expected, was directed to obtain another unique code from the device before looking it up in the code book and entering the result. Two more confirms were necessary. She stopped at the second.
“Ready?”
“Go for it.”
She clicked confirm. The laptop bleeped and a message appeared. ‘Your payment has been processed’.
“Okay, do another. This time make it for one pound and after you’ve sent it, go back in and cancel. We need to make sure the fail-safe works.” He watched as she tapped away, announced the payment had been processed, then went through the cancel procedure.
“Done. Payment cancelled.”
“Good. But you’re not finished yet. Do another one for fifteen million.”
“What?”
“Do it. We need to know the system’s not going to freak out at the amount.”
“Are you sure?”
“We can’t assume it’s going to work. We have to know. Just go as far as getting the number from the device and the code from the book. Stop before you confirm the second time. Even then, you still have the fail-safe mechanism.”
“Yes, but… I’m really nervous about that. It’s ten to six. What if I slip up and can’t get it back?”
“Trust me.” He knew as soon as he said it, he was on thin ice. No one he knew would regard those two little words as provocative, but Caitlín McConnell was like no one he knew and he held his breath, waiting for resistance or worse, a tantrum. She hesitated for a second and he saw the cogs turning. He read her mind. It was a trap. She’d do all the work, enter the codes, he’d grab the laptop, hit her or maybe even kill her and press confirm. Job done. No time to think through how illogical it was. He had to accept he had no right to assume her trust, he had to earn it. “I’ll go and stand over there, okay?” He put his hands up in surrender, turned away and walked towards the mini-bar. He perused the small menu, keeping his back to her, but she made no sound for twenty seconds.
“Jack? I think you should come and watch I don’t hit the wrong button. Please.” It was tentative and cautious. It sounded unconvincing, but it was the best she could do and as a leap of faith, it was huge. He returned to the desk and kneeled down beside her as she went through the process and entered a payment of fifteen million, stopping at the final confirmation stage.
“Cancel it before your finger slips!” She pressed cancel and the previous screen reappeared. She let out a sigh of relief. He put a hand on her shoulder and kissed her forehead. “Well done…” he started to say, but her lips were on his in an instant, reducing his words to an unintelligible murmur. She slid off the chair and pressed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his neck, hungrily massaging his lips with hers and forcing her tongue into his mouth. He held her body tightly, feeling it shake with passion, letting her lead the embrace until she slowed down and drew back so they could each catch their breath.
She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and gripped him and they remained kneeling on the floor, clutching each other for a moment or two before she loosened her hold and kissed him gently.
“I want to have sex with you now,” she said, “before it’s too late and before I change my mind.” He caressed her cheek and kissed her again. “This may be our last chance.”
“I hope not. I plan to make sure we have plenty of opportunities in the future.”
“I’d like that.”
They stood up and she led him by the hand to the bed. He kissed her again and they undressed with an urgency born from some irrational fear either might think of a reason not to, or they might be interrupted by some unforeseen event. He wrenched the covers off the bed and they fell naked onto the linen sheet, rolling left then right on top of each other before they settled, her warm body under his, legs wrapped around his waist. She wriggled her hips and he adjusted position before sensing the right spot and pushed slowly, feeling heat rise up his body and hot breath in his ear as the penetration made her gasp.
They synchronised the movement of their bodies into a gentle rhythm and she tilted her head back so he could kiss her neck and shoulders, massage and kiss her breasts, but the pace soon intensified, and he leaned back, supporting his undulating body on outstretched arms so he could watch her writhing under him, willing him on until eventually, they lost control and burst through the pleasure and pain barrier together.
He slumped over her, exhausted, and after a moment shifted to one side to ease the pressure of his weight on her slim body. They lay together, conjoined and entwined, stroking each other’s hair and periodically stealing a kiss. Her eyes were bottomless pools of the purest green and her cheeks glowed pink under a sprinkling of dark brown freckles.
“I love you Jack Fleming,” she said at last, drawing her nails over the stubble on his cheek.
“Does that mean you trust me as well?”
She gave him a playful pat on the face and laughed. “That’ll take a bit longer, so it will,” and he laughed with her.
“Shall we go get some dinner?”
“Maybe we should put some clothes on first?”
***
Inside the shower cubicle, they made love against the cool of the wall tiles under the torrent of a hot, steamy waterfall until their bodies ached with the exertion and finally sated, dried each other with the luxurious bath towels. It was eight o’clock by the time they arrived at the restaurant and he found himself scanning the tables for men in black with sinister intent, just like she had on the Isle of Wight.
“I look forward to the day I’m not lookin’ over my shoulder, so I am,” she said sipping an Irish Mule.
“I wish I could guarantee that. We need to go through the plan again and work out what’ll go wrong.”
“Maybe nothin’.”
“No, something always goes wrong, we just have to be ready for it. Apart from the complication with Charlie, we hold the power. Once Maguire knows he’s got his money, the balance shifts absolutely to his side. We must assume he’s planning the worst for one or all of us and I won’t get a steer on that until I meet him.”
“You sound like you’ve done this sort of thing before.” He didn’t know if it was meant to be a compliment, or she was still searching for some hidden agenda; something she still didn’t understand about him that made her suspicious.
“I’m tempted to say I’m way out of my depth, but I don’t want to frighten you.”
“Then don’t say it.”
“I haven’t been in a real conflict situation since Kuwait.”
“When were you in Kuwait?”
“Gulf War, number one.”
“You said you were just a jumped-up mechanic.”
“Yes, but they trained us to do the full combat thing, in case we were attacked by a bunch of towelheads.”
“Are you allowed to say that?”
“I feckin’ am!”
She spluttered into her drink and had to wipe her mouth. “Attaboy! You’re learnin’ the lingo at last! So were you?”
“What?”
“Were you attacked by a bunch of Arab miscreants?”
“Yes. The war was over and Saddam was hunkered down in Baghdad, but he had his sympathisers; forerunners of Islamic State. A load of them attacked the base. Five Toyota pickups with heavy weapons crashed through the perimeter fence and started firing RPGs and automatic weapons; the works.”
“Jeez. What happened?”
“We fought them off.” He shrugged, not wishing to elaborate.
“And did you kill any of them?”
“Yes. One or two. When you think your life’s at risk, something kicks in automatically. You stop rationalising and debating and just react to the threat, as if you get a sudden overdose of survival drug and it drives everything you do. The whys and wherefores come afterwards, by which time it’s too late.”
“What? You mean guilt?” She was studying him closely and he returned her stare, trying to decide whether it was another challenge or just an attempt to understand.
“I saw you wield a poker. How far would you have gone if I had let you?”
She managed to acknowledge the point while remaining defiant. “All the way.”
“There’s no guilt in trying to stay alive. At all costs.”
“And you’re walkin’ into the lion’s den tomorrow. I want you to come out alive.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “Whatever it takes.”
“Charlie comes first, that’s the only condition.”
“I understand.”