Chapter 33
We lingered in the doorway to the Record Tower, allowing O to view what we had narrowly prevented from happening, and all under his nose.
The blasting caps had already been removed to avoid an accident, and Willoughby had scarpered off, not willing to trust that he wouldn’t be arrested for the phosgene incident.
I couldn’t blame him. We were taking a chance ourselves.
But with Captain Maxwell and a few other officers serving as witnesses, we hoped to thwart any attempts O made to turn this against us.
“I understand Lord Ardmore is lying dead in the Chapel Royal,” O bit out.
“He was attempting to kill my wife to stop her from alerting anyone to his plans,” Sidney stated plainly.
If anyone thought to doubt his word, the bruises around my neck and my hoarse voice were evidence enough.
Given how much my throat still hurt, I’d opted to remain silent and let Sidney do most of the talking.
O’s gaze lifted to the ceiling. “And the men in the room above?”
“His cohorts.”
He nodded, turning to survey the room once more. Though he was attempting to appear sanguine about the matter, the pallor of his skin said otherwise. “Very good.” He began to move toward us and the door. “Thank you for alert—”
But Sidney stepped into his path, holding up a hand. “Just a minute more of your time, please.”
O scowled. “Out of my way, Kent. There is much to do. And undoubtedly some Shinners to be rounded up for aiding Ardmore—”
“No,” Sidney interrupted again. “There was no republican involvement. That was a ploy to fool you. As Ardmore has fooled you multiple times before.”
O flushed red with fury.
“So, this time, I suggest you listen before you make things worse for yourself.”
We had already informed him of Lieutenant Harlow’s involvement, as well as the role some of the women invited to the Auxiliaries’ ball had played.
The party was still going on, but I suspected it would be sometime before the men were allowed to conduct any such entertainment ever again.
As for the women, the last thing the Castle wanted was the embarrassment of having to explain why they’d arrested them, so I suspected they would all be returning home fifty quid wealthier.
“Now, here’s what is going to happen.” Sidney’s bearing lost all semblance of ease as he straightened to attention as if addressing soldiers.
I knew his next statements would be as much for the benefit of our witnesses as O.
“My wife and I have completed and now exceeded the scope of our directive. We are no longer obligated to remain here and will be returning to London unimpeded.”
“Captain Xavier …” O interjected, his eyes cutting toward the Auxiliary officers.
“Has his own handler and it is not Mrs. Kent. Take it up with him.”
“That may be, but despite your claims otherwise, I’m not certain I believe that Xavier hasn’t gone over to the rebels.” O peered sharply at me. “Without you here, I cannot offer any assurances that he won’t be detained.”
It was obvious what he was doing. He was threatening my friends in order to try to compel me to stay in Dublin.
My hands clenched the edges of the blanket that had been draped around me against the chill, simmering at the underhandedness of such a move.
But fortunately, Sidney was the one answering for us.
“So be it,” he declared dismissively, the intensity of his gaze the only thing to indicate he was not so nonchalant about the matter.
“Though one can understand an agent’s desire to take extra precautions to ensure his identity remains secret after what occurred to fifteen of our men just a month ago. ”
I’d not failed to note how carefully Sidney had worded this, speaking in hypotheticals so as not to perjure himself, or how directly this point had hit home, riling O into condescension.
“You haven’t given us Collins. And I believe that was …”
“Colonel Winter, please,” Sidney disputed wearily. “If you and all your men haven’t been able to apprehend him, what makes you think my wife can?”
It did not speak well of me how much savage delight I took in seeing O utterly stymied by this statement. For he couldn’t counter it without admitting that it was because I was the best damn agent they had. And O would never do that.
Signaling the discussion was at an end, Sidney turned to the officers. “May we request an escort home?” After all, it was after curfew.
“It would be my pleasure to escort you,” one man stepped forward to say.
O looked so angry that he might burst into flames, though he didn’t naysay this appeal. Perhaps he thought he could thwart us later.
“Mrs. Kent will submit a full report to her superior in London,” Sidney added for good measure before we turned to follow the officer. This was just to make ourselves crystal clear in front of everyone. He was not our commanding officer and never would be.
In the yard outside, Sidney shook Maxwell’s hand and I embraced him, grateful for all that he had done and concerned that he not suffer any consequences for it.
I urged him to visit us once his commission here was done, and he promised he would.
I could only hope and pray he would survive this war to do so.
The Auxies who had been unfortunate enough to be on duty tonight, and forced to miss the ball, appeared to perk up at the sight of us, knowing tomorrow they would have a tale to tell their hungover comrades.
However, the drive through the streets of Dublin in their tender was relatively uneventful.
Apparently, everyone wanted to start off the New Year on the right foot.
At home, Nimble was ready for us, though we had to wait four more hours for curfew to end.
Then we loaded our last few bags into the Pierce-Arrow, hugged Mrs. Boyle goodbye, and set off through the lingering darkness toward Kingstown.
Mr. Finnegan had already agreed to arrange the shipment of our trunks and other effects.
We drove into the rising sun, our hopes seeming to be borne aloft with the ascending orb in the sky.
None of us had slept, but I wasn’t tired.
I was too keyed up from the evening before, too anxious to see this escape through.
At the dock, we drove almost straight onto the awaiting ferry.
If O still had men posted here who were supposed to stop us, we saw no sign of them.
What workers there were all crowded around Sidney’s motorcar, eager to have a look.
He gave them permission to gawk all they wanted before we were ushered above deck and into one of the best cabins, with Nimble placed in his own smaller cabin next door.
There, I paced for two more hours, anxious that we not be foiled at the last minute. When the engines began to rumble and the ferry blasted its horn, pulling away from the dock, I nearly sank to my knees in gratitude. We were finally … finally … leaving Ireland’s shores behind us.
By all rights, I should have collapsed then and fallen into a stupor if not a deep sleep. Yet, I found I couldn’t lie down. I couldn’t sit still. Not until I’d properly said my goodbyes to the land of Erin.
Sidney found me a short while later standing at the rail, watching the green hills of Ireland recede into the distance.
The cold sea breeze stung my cheeks, making my eyes water.
Or perhaps it was the ache in my heart for this island, for its people, for all they had been through.
For everything I had faced there and how it had changed me.
There was no denying that I would never be the same.
“Handkerchief?” Sidney asked, holding the white fabric in front of me to flutter in the breeze.
I couldn’t tell if this was an unconscious echo of his first word to me on another ferry trip, one we’d taken to Belgium the previous July, or if he’d remembered and done so on purpose. One look at his face told me he knew precisely what he was doing.
“This dashed wind,” I replied. Though I couldn’t recall exactly what I’d previously said in response, I was letting him know I was aware of what he was doing.
That ferry journey had been a beginning of sorts, when we’d both acknowledged how very fragile we were, how very fragile our marriage was after the war and his alleged death.
It was when I’d shared why I’d become an intelligence agent and how I’d come to work behind enemy lines.
It was when Sidney had first faced the reality of the role I’d played and the danger I’d courted.
Now, here we were, eighteen months later. I’d thought the war and most of our hardships were behind us. How wrong I’d been.
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his embrace, and I tipped my head, resting it against his chest. We stood that way for some time, Sidney’s feet braced wide to support us as we sliced through the icy waves of the Irish Sea.
The captain had informed us we were racing a squall, and clouds could be seen gathering on the horizon behind.
I expected this time we would outpace it.
Though, not everyone would be so lucky to escape the rising storm.
The revolution would rage on in Ireland for seven more months before peace came, as Sturgis had predicted, with almost the same terms as might have been had in 1920.
In all that time, Collins never took the easy way out, even though he might have gone to the United States to fundraise when de Valera pressured him to do so.
Instead, he stayed and stuck it out to the end, making the British negotiate for peace.
Alec also survived the year, but both of their roads ahead were still rocky and Collins’s was ultimately too short.
Wick was arrested again for writing articles unfavorable to the Crown Forces, and this time he was kept incarcerated until the truce.
Later, he would pen a series of essays based on my experiences.
I insisted upon remaining anonymous, for it would be decades before relations between the Irish and the British would thaw, but my identity was essentially an open secret among some circles.
Sadly, as is too often the case, in some instances justice was never served.
Many of the men who harmed, tortured, and sometimes murdered in cold blood were never punished, and lived out their days, sometimes to acclaim.
Even Lord Ardmore’s involvement in any treasonous schemes or crimes was glossed over to protect those powerful men still living who had, knowingly or not, aided and abetted him, and the case against him was declared closed with his death.
All of this merely solidified the decision I made once and for all on that windswept ferry to wash my hands of the entire business.
I was done spying, and I told Sidney as much, in no uncertain terms.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his dark blue gaze searching mine.
I swiveled to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck so that he could look directly into my eyes and see how earnest I was.
So he wouldn’t miss any of the words issuing from my raspy voice.
“I want to be free of the lies and manipulations! There are other ways we can help the Irish and the other causes we believe in without placing ourselves in such perilous circumstances. And I’m not just speaking physically.
” I made a sound of disgust. “The number of deceitful, unscrupulous men I’ve had to deal with. ”
He arched a single eyebrow so high it disappeared beneath the brim of his hat pulled low against the wind.
“Not you.” I grasped the lapels of his trench coat, pulling his face closer as I allowed a small smile to play across my lips. “I rather like you.”
“Is that so?” he teased in return, clasping his hands around my waist.
“In fact, I think I’d like to keep you around. To drive through the countryside in your Pierce-Arrow.”
“It is a rather fine motorcar.”
“And warm my feet on your legs at night.”
“I suppose I can manage that.”
“And make babies with.”
This one surprised him. “Babies?”
I smiled more broadly. “Yes.”
His playful tone deepened. “I’d like that.”
“And grow old with,” I whispered, my lips now a hairs-breadth from his.
“I’d like that even more.”
Our next action might have scandalized the other passengers had there been any on deck to see it.
Fortunately, we had its full expanse to ourselves and took advantage of it.
When Sidney pulled away, I suggested we warm ourselves below.
A proposal I didn’t have to make twice. I laughed as he took my arm and, together, we strode side by side into the future, whatever might come.