18. Sullivan

18

SULLIVAN

R ather than walk to the castle, David and I rode in the enclosed golf cart someone had left near Thistle Gate’s front door.

I clutched my laptop bag, which contained the microSD card, close to my body. Today would be the first time I shared all its contents with anyone. Something I hadn’t been able to imagine doing prior to now. That it was with David, Con, Tag, Gus, and Fallon, made it easier. They’d gained my trust, even in the short time I’d known them. David more so than the others.

My original plan was to share my findings with my uncle, Clive, given he was my immediate superior. Now, though, I couldn’t imagine doing so. Not only had he lied about Fallon wanting to kill my investigation, but there was also a chance he’d conspired with Weber to kill me . When I shuddered, David reached over and took my hand.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “We don’t have to do this now if you’re not.”

I shook my head. “I was just thinking about Clive.”

He nodded. We’d talked about it a little while we were still at the flat in London, when he was sharing a story about his annoying uncle. I commented then that at least he didn’t want David dead.

The first person we saw when we walked in the door of the castle was Mrs. Drummond.

“Thank you so much for all the lovely things you arranged at the cottage,” I said, approaching her.

“It was a joy, my lady. I’ve precious memories of Thistle Gate.” Her misty eyes were as curious to me as the statement. Had she spent much time here? Or maybe that’s where she’d lived, and now, David and I had displaced her. I made a mental note to ask after the conclusion of our meeting.

“Come, they’re waiting,” he said after also thanking her with an affectionate embrace.

The four others were already in the room and immediately stood when David and I entered his office.

“Welcome back,” said Fallon, walking over and taking both my hands in hers before we cheek-kissed.

“I’m happy to be,” I said with sincerity before greeting Con, Tag, and Gus.

“I’ve asked Sullivan if she’d be willing to brief us on her investigation of Tower-Meridian, and she agreed.” David turned to me. “Begin whenever you’re ready.”

“The entirety of what I’ve learned about the company, as well as about Eric Weber, is contained on this microSD card,” I said, holding up the piece of cardboard where it was still affixed. “For now, I’ll review it verbally, then at the conclusion of our meeting, I’ll ask for copies to be made and distributed as necessary.”

I began by recalling the night I’d first heard Eric Weber’s name and how I’d overheard two men discussing him. “When one said he wouldn’t dare show his face even after donating a billion dollars, I was intrigued. I suppose this is the perfect example of why curiosity kills the cat.”

My eyes met David’s, and in them, I saw such warmth. It—he—gave me the confidence to continue.

“While Tower-Meridian is well publicized for donations of that nature, along with their commitment to the distribution of humanitarian aid and medical supplies as well as emergency response services and refugee support, I believe it is all a smokescreen. What they really do is sinister at best, terrifying at worst.”

Everyone in the room sat up straighter.

“Let’s start with medical supplies…” I began as I had when I first told David about my investigation. “The arrival weights are significantly different from those taken at departure. This is also true of shipments containing humanitarian aid in the way of food supplies.” I added that the difference was sometimes as much as thirty percent, and along with it, there were lost containers and suspicious and undocumented or traceable detours in shipment arrival. “The most obvious theory would be Tower-Meridian was selling the donated items on the black market.”

“What led you to believe it was beyond that?” Fallon asked.

Again, I outlined the pieces of evidence like I had for David, saying that inventory reports on the manifests didn’t match and the required temperature logs for sensitive medications were either incomplete or missing altogether.

“The biggest mystery was how a shipping company as large as this could experience communications blackouts as well as blocked satellite tracking.” I pointed at the drive. “There are multiple documents detailing everything I’ve just told you.”

“Where did you get this information? Who were your sources?” Con asked.

My eyes met Fallon’s, and she shook her head.

“I’m not ready to divulge that information. I may never be.”

Rather than anger, what I saw in Con’s eyes was respect. His question had been a test that I’d passed.

“Explain about the two ports,” David prompted.

“Right. Most larger UK shipping companies, of which Tower-Meridian is one of the biggest in existence, are registered in Felixstowe. Tees is the home port for every vessel I’ve identified as being theirs.”

“If I may,” said David.

“Go ahead.”

“The working theory is that Weber is intentionally exploiting the inherent chaos in traveling between two such different ports.” He looked over at me. “Right?”

I smiled. “Correct and close to verbatim what I said. And, as David alluded to, the manifests are signed off at Tees and spot-checked in Felixstowe.”

“Where they’re most likely getting rubber-stamped without anyone ever checking,” said Tag.

“Correct.”

“What do you think he’s transporting?” Con asked.

“As I also told David, my first theory was he was heavy into human trafficking. Based on the communications blackouts alone, combined with blocked tracking, Tower-Meridian’s ships could make any number of stops virtually anywhere in the world.”

“And now?” Con pressed.

“Weapons are the next most obvious.”

I caught a look between him and David.

“Except that isn’t enough,” Con muttered. “The risk they’re taking is disproportionate to either form of trafficking.”

“As David said the other day, a series of well-timed raids would bury them,” I added.

Con nodded. “Which means whatever it is they’re moving isn’t discernible or at least not immediately obvious.” His eyes met mine. “So what is it?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Do you have a guess?” Fallon asked.

Had anyone else posed the same question, I would’ve responded, in my line of work, I couldn’t afford to guess. Fallon too would’ve given the same stock answer.

“Something far worse, obviously, but what? I can’t fathom.”

“You’re right about whatever it is being far worse. The problem as it stands right now is Weber believes you’ve figured it out. And if you haven’t, you’re close enough that he sees you as a big-enough threat that he’ll take you out regardless of risk,” said Con.

“What do you think it is?” Fallon asked him.

“Weapons of mass destruction would make sense, but how would he get his hands on them, in the first place, let alone load them into containers? The payoffs at the ports would be staggering, plus with that number of people, the odds of discovery are astronomical,” I responded.

“Except you also believe that whatever it is, isn’t discernible. WMDs certainly would be, unless what he’s moving is something no one has ever seen before,” said Gus.

My eyes met Fallon’s. That was exactly right. And if no one had seen whatever it was before, how could it ever be detected?

“Where do we go from here?” Tag asked.

“Let’s take a look at the UK’s biggest enemies. Not just ours, but the rest of the world’s,” said Con.

“Russia and China,” Fallon responded. “And in China’s case, they see the US as the biggest threat. Not that they’re alone in that opinion.”

“But collectively, Russia and China are neck and neck,” said David.

“So the next step is to dig deeper into who Tower-Meridian would most likely partner with,” said Con.

“Both,” I responded.

Con and Fallon nodded.

“Right,” she muttered.

“Well, Happy Christmas, one and all,” said Tag, pushing back his chair. “And before you apologize, my guess is you didn’t want to do this today any more than the rest of us did,” he said to me.

“I did not. However, I personally don’t believe we have the luxury of burying our heads in the sand any longer.”

Everyone in the room murmured their agreement.

“Before we break for the afternoon, can we talk about tomorrow?” Con asked. “Given the security risks inherent with a large gathering, I propose those of us here presently celebrate together.”

I looked to David, who appeared to be surveying the room and noticing, that like I had, everyone seemed to be in agreement.

“I’d not ask to take you away from your families,” I said.

“The reality is, Sullivan, that everyone here is in a great deal of danger. I’d suggest we all consider that spending time with anyone outside of our small group puts those we come in contact with in peril,” said Con.

“Understood.”

I walked over to the window and looked out at the loch while David spoke with the other men.

“I’m proud of you,” said Fallon, coming to stand beside me. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Not at all. It’s an honor.”

“You and I have much to discuss, but it can wait a couple more days.”

“Such as?”

She leaned closer. “What I found in both Glenshadow’s and Blackmoor’s libraries and what I believe might be in the ones here. Also, Clive Edwards. We’ve been keeping tabs on him while, at the same time, taking a deeper look at his financials of the last few months.”

My stomach clenched. “Oh God,” I groaned.

“I’m sorry, Sullivan.”

“Don’t be. Whatever my uncle has gotten himself involved in is his doing. Not yours or mine.”

“I agree. I’ll add that finding out one’s relative might be linked to the very man you’re investigating as part of the job where he serves as your superior can be disconcerting.”

“Thinking he had something to do with someone trying to kill me is far worse.”

She put her hand on my arm. “I’m glad we’ll be spending part of Christmas together.”

“As am I.” We embraced when Con asked if she was ready to leave.

I hung back when David walked them out, as did Gus.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Better than I was when I was mostly alone in all this. When you don’t have anyone else’s feedback or input, it’s easy to think it’s all too far-fetched.”

“Now, you know it isn’t.”

“Listen, I know this is asking next to the impossible, but I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something.”

“Anything.”

I smiled. “There’s something I want to give to David tomorrow.”

He raised a brow. “How far to the ends of the earth must I travel to get it?”

“Not far at all.”

“Then, consider it done.”

I quickly explained what I wanted when I saw David on his way inside.

“On my way,” Gus said, winking.

“I don’t know about you, but I am ready for it to just be you and me back at the cottage.”

“Sounds perfect.” I looked around the room we were in. “What was it like growing up in a castle?”

“Surprisingly ordinary. It’s my belief that regardless of the size of one’s home, there are only certain rooms where we spend the majority of our time. If I were to really think about it, I doubt it would be more than the total number in Thistle Gate.” He touched the tip of my nose with his finger. “You, on the other hand, would have to explore every nook and cranny of each and every one in this place.”

“How many are there?”

“Can you believe I’ve no idea?”

“Mrs. Drummond would.”

“Let’s ask her tomorrow.”

I smiled, put my arms around his neck, and kissed him. “Sounds perfect.”

He put his arms around my waist and nuzzled my neck. “God, I love you.”

I felt David freeze. I wasn’t sure he was even breathing. I leaned away far enough to see his face, but he wouldn’t look at me.

“Forgive me,” he whispered.

I put my hand on his cheek. “Are you apologizing for saying the words to me I’ve dreamed you would someday?”

His eyes were misty when they met mine. “It was too soon.”

I shook my head. “It’s taken you twenty years.”

When he smiled, I kissed him, then took his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

“I cannot tell you how good that sounds.”