Chapter 26 #2
The progress bar hits ninety-nine.
Everything stops.
A new line appears across the screen.
TERTIARY CONFIRMATION REQUIRED.
PRIMARY AUTHORITY: SPEAK COMMAND.
Below it, a single blinking cursor waits.
Cillian steps back. “It’s ready.”
“How much time is left on the countdown?”
“Two minutes,” Declan confirms.
“Then we wait.”
“Dervla—” Cillian starts.
“I said, we wait.”
He nods grimly and goes back to staring at the screen.
I reach out and squeeze her hand. She didn’t have to do this for a man she doesn’t even know. But part of me knows she didn’t do it for him. She did it for me. So I can keep the life I’ve always known, even though I’d give it all up for her in a heartbeat.
“Ninety seconds,” Declan murmurs.
Sixty.
No one talks.
Dervla doesn’t look at me. She stares at the screen.
Fifty.
Cillian shifts first. “If your father is still exposed—”
“He knows how to protect himself,” I cut in.
That is true enough. My father built an empire by surviving men who thought they were cleverer than him. If he cannot move his money in five minutes, then maybe he deserves to lose it.
Still, I can feel the old pull under my ribs. Blood. Obligation. Habit. The ugly architecture of being somebody’s son.
Forty-three.
Séamus glances at Dervla. “Once this goes, there will be retaliation beyond St. Augustine’s.”
She finally turns her head. “Good.”
Thirty-seven.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Every muscle in me tightens. I pull it out and look at the screen.
Dad.
I answer without taking my eyes off Dervla. “Yeah.”
“Done,” he says. “Tell her she can proceed.”
No thank you. No softness. No request. Just business.
It’s the way it is. I hang up and pocket my phone. “Dad’s done.”
She nods and steps forward. “Go ahead,” she says to the machine.
Nothing happens as Declan snorts into his hand while Cormac looks like he is about to blow every gasket he has.
“Confirmation check,” the switchboard suddenly blurts out. “Voice recognition for Dervla Callaghan not accepted.”
“What?” she snaps, her fist bunched, ready to smash something in. “How dare you? You fucking stupid piece of shit!”
“Positive match for Dervla Callaghan. Proceed.”
The laugh that escapes me is impossible to hold back.
“I needed your true voice, not something someone could clone,” Cillian mutters, trying to hide his smile.
“Fuck you,” she grits out.
The screen lights up in flashes of red.
The panel spits line after line across the screen.
I step closer to read. Columns start populating so fast they blur. Every respectable lie in the country is getting dragged naked into daylight.
Dervla stares at it with an expression that belongs on a battlefield. “Tell me it’s working.”
“It’s working,” Cillian says. “Another minute and everyone not on the ó Briain payroll will be going up in flames.”
“Alanna?” Dervla asks.
“She’s protected,” Cillian says.
“Where is she?”
“At the estate,” Séamus says. “She says she is too old for all of this nonsense.”
“Sounds like Alanna,” I mutter.
The panel gives another hard beep, and the red flashes randomly turn green.
A new block of text appears across the top: Transfers initiated.
“Transfers?” I ask, but I already know. “You fucking sneaky fucker.”
Cillian shoots me a smile that is as cold and sinister as I’ve ever seen. “And now Dervla owns the parts of the country that Séamus doesn’t.”
“Fuck off,” she breathes and moves closer to the screen as if that will tell her more.
“Congratulations,” I snort. “You just had a billion euros in assets moved to accounts you control. Nice. I see now what all this was for. All the cloak and dagger bullshit. This was espionage the likes of which will go down in the history books as unbelievable. All done by a dead man no one can accuse.”
“Someone will always challenge the status quo,” Séamus warns.
“Dad?” Dervla croaks. “What have you done?”
Cillian doesn’t look away from the screen when he answers.
“I’ve handed you enough leverage that nobody can box you in again.”
Dervla stares at him like she is deciding whether that is devotion or treason with nicer wording. “You stole a country for me.”
“Reallocated,” he says. “And it’s not the whole country. All government assets are still government assets. You probably control half of what was shut down.”
“Which means you own less than me,” Séamus adds with a smug smile. “In case you were thinking otherwise.”
“That is what you’re going with?”
“It’s accurate.”
“Is Aidan right?” she asks. “You died for this, so that you couldn’t get arrested for treason?”
Cillian finally drags his eyes from the screen and looks at her properly.
“I died for this,” he says. “If I had stayed alive, they would have seen the move coming. They would have scattered assets, buried records deeper, killed Whitmore sooner, and come for you harder and earlier. If I had done it in my own name, yes, they would have called it treason. They may still. I don’t particularly care. I’m dead.”
Dervla gives a short, disbelieving laugh. It is not amused. “And me? I have your name.”
“You have my name fronted by your grandfather’s. It’s already done. Whether you choose to use it in the day-to-day is up to you. Oh, and Alanna insisted, so you are actually Dervla ó Briain-Callaghan-Colthurst.”
She closes her eyes. “This is insane.”
“No,” I say, taking her hand and squeezing it. “This is legacy.”