Page 94

Slowly, he sat back as the broker told him about a piece of a book written by Oscar Wilde.A work of fiction about a powerful secret society.The owner of the piece—an American with more money than sense, and who went by “Dodge”—wanted to find the rest of the book and then sell it for a small fortune.

He’d used electronic crawlers to monitor for anyone accessing or searching for terms specific to this lost Oscar Wilde manuscript and identified a Frenchman who was staying at a private residence in Dublin.The Frenchman searched a digital library, using terms that made it clear he was looking for the same thing as Dodge.

Dodge hired a man to question the Frenchman, but instead, the amateur decided to break into one of the buildings the Frenchman had visited—the Admiral Archive.The fool never even made it inside.

When the Frenchman and two companions went to New York, Dodge hired another idiot to either question them or take anything that looked like a book if they had it on them.

That man lost an eye for his trouble.

Dodge had finally decided to be smart and hire a professional, since clearly one of the three people he was currently tracking electronically was more dangerous than anticipated.The trio had just returned to Dublin, back to the Admiral Archive, and Dodge wanted someone to go in and force them to turn over the rest of the pieces of Wilde’s lost work of fiction.

Which might not be fiction at all.

“I’ll take the job,” he told the broker.“I can’t go personally right now, but I’ll send in a team.”

“Fee?”

“Charge him double.A penalty for being stupid.And I need that manuscript.”

“The manuscript?”

“The physical manuscript piece that he has.I need it in my hands by tomorrow, or I won’t take the job.Tell him it’s necessary.”

He ended the call.

Colum O’Connor, Eric Ericsson’s brother—for lack of a better description—was finally in play.He was well aware of who Colum was to Eric, but the Irishman had been a dead end since he never went anywhere or did anything.Except now, he was crossing the Atlantic with a trinity, maybehistrinity, looking for the rest of whatever it was Dodge had.

This might be it, might be what he was waiting for.He could go to Dublin and…

Slowly, he sat back.No.He wasn’t going to Dublin.He was going to stay right here.He’d make sure the men he sent to Dublin dropped the right hints.He’d hate for Eric to live in ignorance thinking the upcoming attack in Dublin was an isolated incident.Much more fun if he realized things were connected.

He studied the image of the blonde in her garden, an odd feeling gripping him.

Maybe it was time he made her acquaintance.

ChapterSeventeen

Franco: Best comic book villain.

Colum: Joker

Franco: That’s a basic bitch answer.Be better.

Colum: Evil Deadpool.

Franco: Now we’re talking.

Annie sat bolt upright, lunged over Colum—who grunted when she braced an elbow on his stomach—and snatched the state-of-the-art security control panel off the bedside table.

It was chiming discreetly.Someone had rung the doorbell of the archive upstairs.Which would be fine if it wasn’t three a.m.

And they hadn’t rung the front doorbell.The image showed a collection of darkly clad men standing at the rear entrance that led to the long, narrow outdoor space that in turn let out onto the small street bordering the back of the properties.It was now used for parking, and all but two of the spots were rented out to the businesses and organizations with offices along this side of Merrion Square.During the day, people came and went from the back of the building regularly, which was why, as Colum had explained, no one used that back door.Plus, he had to go in and out through the front door to access his flat.

All this ran through Annie’s head as she rolled over the top of Colum?—

“Oof.Jaysus, Annie what’re you at?”

—and started pulling on clothes.