Page 79 of The Chain

Seamus is going to rat.

And not even to the cops but to the goddamn U.S. Marshals Service.

She looks at the data on Rachel again. An uninteresting but surprisingly competent link so far. She has done everything right. Paid the ransom fast, paid the increased ransom fast, carried out a successful kidnap.

She is capable and good. Her ex-brother-in-law is helping her. Another interesting dude. Honorably discharged from the Marines but he had taken some heat for the September 2012 Camp Bastion incident. No pension. Only the minimum VA benefits. Arrested in Worcester, Massachusetts, in 2017 for possession of one gram of brown-tar heroin. Charges subsequently dropped. The mug shot is of a haunted, dour, prematurely middle-aged-looking man.

Is the ex-husband helping too?

She Googles Rachel’s ex-husband, Marty O’Neill.

Now, that’s a good-looking guy. A very good-looking guy indeed. She’s surprised she hasn’t come across him before. The pool of eligible bachelors in Boston is remarkably shallow. Harvard grad, lawyer, dating some drippy blonde. Born in Worcester, lives in Boston, is a partner at the white-shoe law firm of Banner and Witcoff. Yeah, he’s the brains of the family.

Well, let’s see how they collectively handle a little curveball.

She logs into the Wickr app and messages Rachel:

Seamus Hogg is defecting. He is going to rat. He e-mailed his uncle, a retired U.S. marshal, and he’s meeting him tomorrow at ten a.m. in Stamford, Connecticut. Obviously, this meeting cannot be allowed to take place. The Dunleavys have screwed up. They have picked an unreliable target. And their screwup is your screwup, Rachel. Kill your hostage and pick another target or stop this meeting and remind the Dunleavys and the Hoggs that they are part of The Chain. If you do neither of these things, the blowback will come for you and your family. We know where you live. There is nowhere you can go where we will not find you.

38

Sunday, 10:59 p.m.

Black Atlantic. Black sky. A dusting of drab stars. Rachel is sitting on the deck smoking a cigarette when the Wickr app on her phone sounds an alert. A message for her.

She reads it, digests it, goes into panic mode, calms herself, gets a burner phone, calls Pete at the Appenzellers’, and reads him the message.

“Aren’t the Dunleavys supposed to take care of this?” he asks.

“The Chain bastards contactedme.This is the blowback they were talking about, Pete. If the Hoggs screw it all up, that means the Dunleavys have screwed up, and I’m supposed to kill Amelia and pick a new target or they’ll come for me.”

“Wait there. I’ll be right over,” Pete says. “Amelia’s asleep.”

Rachel dials Helen Dunleavy’s number but the phone rings and rings and eventually goes to voice mail. She dials again, but no one answers. She waits a minute and dials a third time, but still nothing—either the stupid bitch is dead or she’s turned her phone off.

Their PC is off too. There are no traces from any of their electronic devices. What’s happened to them? What the hell?

She signs into Wickr and sends a message to 2348383hudykdy2:Dunleavys not answering phone.

There’s an immediate response:That’s not our problem, Rachel. That’s your problem.

A minute later Pete arrives. “What did the Dunleavys say?” he asks.

“No answer. The stupid bastards have their phone turned off.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I’m not going to kill Amelia and start again.”

“Of course not.”

Pete hopes that Rachel doesn’t notice his glazed eyes. He shot up about fifteen minutes earlier. He’d thought they were done for the night, and his body was craving opiates. He had to give in and shoot up in the Appenzellers’ kitchen.

“Pete?” Rachel says.

“I’m out of ideas,” he replies dully.

“We go down to the Dunleavys’ now, tonight, and we tell them they have to get their boy in line.”

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