“Nobody’s going to touch them.” Santiago studied the screen. “He won’t get near them.”
“No, he won’t.” Calm now, cold and calm, she used the image and her memory of visits to lay it out. “Here’s how we play it.”
When she walked into the cockpit, she sat down. “I don’t know how much you heard. We’ve got the locals moving your family into town. Abernathy’s mobilizing Interpol as backup. I know you’ve got some security on the farm, and I’ll need them to do what I say when I say it.”
“They won’t leave. The family.”
“They’ll have to.”
He shot her a look. Grim, worried. “Haven’t I just spent near to twenty minutes arguing with Sinead, my uncles all, countless cousins? They won’t leave.”
“We’ll deal with that when we get there. What I’m telling you is he won’t get through us to them, wherever they are. You’re the big fate guy, right? Well, I’ll buy into it right now. We’ve got a shuttle full of good, smart cops, and if that’s not fate, fuck me.”
He let out a breath. “I’m grateful for them.”
“Right now, you’re one of them, so suck that up. Where are you going to put this thing down?”
“The north pasture, nearest my cousin Aidan’s. They’re clearing the cows out now, as I’ll need to do a drop landing.”
“Drop?” All the spit in her mouth dried up. “I don’t like how that sounds.”
He glanced at her. “You won’t like it at all, but it’ll be quick.”
“I don’t like quick and drop together in landing.”
“You’ll strap in. Cobbe can do a glide, as he won’t give two fecks about taking out livestock or anything else, though I think he’ll try to be more subtle. If he’s any sort of pilot, he’ll cut his engines, glide for the quiet, and use the little forest to the south of the farm for cover. His shuttle’s smaller, and he could manage it if he’s any good.”
“He’s supposed to be. So, we look for him to come in from the south. Can you show me the most likely route?”
“Not now I can’t, as we’re about to start the descent. I’ll show you when we’re down.”
“Landed. Don’t say ‘down.’ ”
He smiled a little, as she’d hoped. “Go on back and strap in.”
“I’m fine here.” With you, she thought, and grabbed the harness.
Roarke hit the intercom. “It’s going to be a bit rough,” he announced. “I’m sorry for that. We’ve got some rain, it’s Ireland, after all, and we’ll have a few bumps heading down. The landing’s going to be a jolt, so you’ll want to strap down any equipment and yourselves. I’m thankful for all of you. Pints are on me once we’re done with this bastard.”
Bumps, Eve thought. Heading down. Drop. Quick drop.
If she could get through all that, Cobbe would be a walk on the beach.
Then they hit the bumps.
“A few?” she said as her teeth rattled.
“Just clouds. Some bad-tempered clouds, a few crosswinds. Not to worry.”
Some of the clouds—gray ones, spitting rain on the windshield—thinned enough for her to see land below.
Green, green, green, with the rich contrast of brown.
And rising up at a speed she considered entirely too fast.
She decided there was no point in looking.
She heard Callendar let out a wild laugh. “What a ride! Look at that! It really is green.”
You could crash in green, Eve thought, just as effectively as you could on concrete, or in the ocean, or into the side of a mountain, or—
They dropped like a stone.
Her eyes flew open again. Always better to face death than hide from it, since it came anyway. Her ears slammed shut, then popped like a balloon as all that green rushed up.
She thought she heard her bones crack as they landed with a thud, bounce, thud.
“Welcome to Ireland,” said Roarke.
She got off fast—her legs wobbled some, but she got off fast.
She recognized most of the group of men who stood in the field, hands on hips or in pockets.
“And there’s our Eve.” Sinead’s husband strode straight to her, gave her a hard, welcoming hug. “And how’s it all going then?”
“We’re on the ground.” In the soft, thin rain with cows watching on the other side of that low stone wall.
They could get over it, she imagined, anytime they damn well wanted.
“Robbie, it would make my job a lot easier, if you would take the family—everyone—into Tulla until we have Cobbe in custody.”
He gave her an easy smile, and a pat on the shoulder. “We’ve sent the children off with the Garda, and some of the women with them to keep them behaving. As for the rest of us, well, it’s our land, our home, you see. So here we stay. And it’s Roarke himself.”
Leaving her, he walked to embrace Roarke.
“Podock, security.” The black man, built like a monument to fitness, offered a hand. “We have Trace at the main farm and Ando at Nan’s house.” He grinned a little. “She said we were to call her Nan if we were going to be in her kitchen.”
Abernathy moved in. “Inspector Abernathy, Interpol. I expect four agents to arrive within minutes.”
“You can station one in each outlying house, two in the main,” Eve said. “Cobbe will most likely head in from the south, and we’ve got less than two hours to set this up. We’ll stay in constant communication. If we’re wrong about his direction, if he aims for one of the other houses, we’ll converge. Since you already know the ground, Podock, you can direct the agents when they arrive.”
She turned. “Aidan.”
Roarke’s cousin, a big man with a thatch of straw-colored hair under a battered cap, bent to kiss her cheek.
“Welcome back to the homeplace.”
“Yeah, well. I need my team outfitted. I need them to look like farmers. I need them to look like they’re doing whatever you would all be doing if this was a regular day.”
“Oh, sure and that’s easy enough.”
“Is Sinead at the farm—the big house?”
“She is that, along with Mary Kate and Kevin and Rory, and Seamus. It wasn’t easy to move Nan along, but we managed it. I got my Rosie to move as well, using the baby and the one on the way. But for the rest of us, we’re staying.”
“Let’s just take a minute, all of you, because that’s all I’ve got. I get this is your place, your home, but this man’s a professional killer. We’re the cops, and you’re not. We’re here to stop him, arrest him, and to protect you and your property. How are you going to defend yourself against a professional killer with hundreds of bodies, hundreds of dead? Do you have weapons?”
“Well now, we have these,” Aidan said and bunched his fist. “And come to that, we’ve axes and picks and shovels, knives, oh, and that baseball bat young Ryan bought himself when we visited you in New York City last. We’re Irish, you see. We’ve fought on and for the land for all time.”
“Axes and shovels,” she muttered. “We need to get to the main house. Baxter, Trueheart, you’re with Aidan. Callendar, you’re their geek.”