Chapter 32 Chapter Thirty
Sinead sat on the hospital bed and finished her toast and some tea.She feels terrible, but even worse, she's still alive.
A woman from the Irish embassy visited her last night and said she would be transferred to a hospital in Dublin as soon as possible, reminding her that she remained in police custody and faced serious charges and a lengthy prison sentence.
She guessed, therefore, that this was the reason for the armed guards flanking the door to her private ward.
A nurse came in and checked the medical records at the end of the bed.She took Sinead's temperature and checked her blood pressure. "It doesn't seem to be a problem," she said softly, smiling at Sinide. "Your medicine should be delivered soon. Are you feeling alright?"
Sinide nodded, turning her face away.She finds it hard to look people in the eye, as if there is some shameful secret to hide.Of course, everyone knows why she's here.
I'm a mad Irish woman trying to blow up a plane.Also killed a retired family doctor, though no one seems to have found his body yet.
How she longed for the good old days - active in the country, avoiding detection by the British, laying traps for the bastards who would impose the rules on them.She thinks of the brave men who sacrificed their lives for the cause.Ireland is at peace today, but have people ever been grateful to them?She was very suspicious.Does anyone remember them?Except for diehards like her.
nobody!
Then she thought of Rory.Ironically, the man who ruined her life also saved her.
He did it on purpose, and it would be more painful for me, that bastard!
"Would you like to watch TV?" the nurse asked, preparing to leave the room.
"It doesn't hurt to have a look." Sinide muttered.It's also a pastime if you have no other choice.
"What channel?"
"you decide."
The nurse tuned to the news channel and closed the door behind her when she left.
Sinead glanced at the screen, then lay back on the bed and looked at the ceiling.She had just closed her eyes when she heard a voice say "big news...".She sat up suddenly, her eyes wide open.
"My God!" she exclaimed, sweating all over with excitement.
Winterbottom was at the front door of the hotel to receive Sir Finn Schneider and Sir Timothy Bedford.Both of them had just flown in from London, and both were exhausted but wanted to find out what was going on right away. The three hurried to Winterbottom's room without even checking in - there would be time to check in later. Winterbottom took up the cut glass decanter and poured them each a glass of brandy.But both said no, it was too early to drink. "Do you mind if I drink a little?" He said and poured some into the glass. On the face of it, the three men have little in common other than their hidden wealth and co-ownership of a small firm called Global Oil and Minerals Research Group Ltd in London's alternative investment market .The company's only assets are its four directors, and they are known to be on the verge of despair.The latest global recession has greatly reduced its cash reserves, which explains why its stake is only 0.31p.The majority of the company's shareholders are private investors, and winning an exploration license would make the market for the company and its shares more attractive, and they would then be able to call on this group of shareholders to hand over more cash. "When will we meet?" Schneider asked. Winterbottom glanced at his watch. "Within the hour, I'd hailed a water taxi." "Who will be there?" asked Sir Timothy. "Erik Juul, personal aide to the Norwegian envoy to Russia," said Winterbottom, "and of course Niels Eide, the personal secretary of the Ministry of Fuel. They were all very nervous and excited and couldn't wait. " "You mean they're after the money? Who else knows about this meeting?" Sir Timothy paced the room. "Only by invitation." "Are they aware of what's about to happen?" "Absolutely." Winterbottom said firmly. "Any news from the Governor's Palace?" Sir Timothy asked, having difficulty relaxing at this time when everything was coming together.Winterbottom shook his head. "And what about Deverge?" "What happened to him?" Winterbottom asked back, narrowing his eyes and thinking in his mind. "I don't trust the devil, never," admitted Sir Timothy, "he only cares about himself. Why isn't he here?" "He should be here!" Schneider interjected, feeling uneasy in his words. "He'll come, don't worry," Winterston replied, but the uncertainty in his tone gave him away. "Anyone want another drink?"
Nick hugged Athena tightly to his chest.She was shivering and cold, but at least she was alive. "Where are we?" She made a hoarse voice, trying to see her surroundings, thankful that she was still here. "Not yet," Nick replied, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.They were both tied up in an old underground workshop. "We're locked up, but it's not just us." He could hear voices on the other side of the door, one of them clearly Irish.O'Callaghan was apparently feuding bitterly with Ackbar over differences of opinion. "I said we'd finish them off as soon as we got out. Where the hell is Stephenson?" "He'll be where he wants to be," O'Callaghan said. "He's a real bastard. As for our friends? I said leave 'em here and maybe the rats will pick them up. We'd be far away before anyone found them. How can anyone come here so often." Akbar looked around.Garbage and bits and pieces of old factory machinery and furniture piled up to the ceiling, the floor was dirty and wet with some puddles several centimeters deep.The five-storey building is said to have been abandoned and in disrepair.Surrounded by canals, the only way to get in is by boat. "No matter what, I'll leave as soon as it gets dark," Akbar said resolutely, "Just do what you have to do." "Okay, we're exposed," O'Callaghan agreed. "Let's go separately. Stephenson may not be far." "Let him go to hell." Akbar looked at the Irishman with deep eyes. "I just need to deal with a small problem, and then I will go far away." "What's the problem?" O'Callaghan asked. "You won't understand," Akbar said. "It has to be said that it was not a very pleasant meeting, Irishman, may Allah be with you." "You too, friend, you too."
Winterbottom was at the front door of the hotel to receive Sir Finn Schneider and Sir Timothy Bedford.Both of them had just flown in from London, and both were exhausted but wanted to find out what was going on right away. The three hurried to Winterbottom's room without even checking in - there would be time to check in later. Winterbottom took up the cut glass decanter and poured them each a glass of brandy.But both said no, it was too early to drink. "Do you mind if I drink a little?" He said and poured some into the glass. On the face of it, the three men have little in common other than their hidden wealth and co-ownership of a small firm called Global Oil and Minerals Research Group Ltd in London's alternative investment market .The company's only assets are its four directors, and they are known to be on the verge of despair.The latest global recession has greatly reduced its cash reserves, which explains why its stake is only 0.31p.The majority of the company's shareholders are private investors, and winning an exploration license would make the market for the company and its shares more attractive, and they would then be able to call on this group of shareholders to hand over more cash. "When will we meet?" Schneider asked. Winterbottom glanced at his watch. "Within the hour, I'd hailed a water taxi." "Who will be there?" asked Sir Timothy. "Erik Juul, personal aide to the Norwegian envoy to Russia," said Winterbottom, "and of course Niels Eide, the personal secretary of the Ministry of Fuel. They were all very nervous and excited and couldn't wait. " "You mean they're after the money? Who else knows about this meeting?" Sir Timothy paced the room. "Only by invitation." "Are they aware of what's about to happen?" "Absolutely." Winterbottom said firmly. "Any news from the Governor's Palace?" Sir Timothy asked, having difficulty relaxing at this time when everything was coming together.Winterbottom shook his head. "And what about Deverge?" "What happened to him?" Winterbottom asked back, narrowing his eyes and thinking in his mind. "I don't trust the devil, never," admitted Sir Timothy, "he only cares about himself. Why isn't he here?" "He should be here!" Schneider interjected, feeling uneasy in his words. "He'll come, don't worry," Winterston replied, but the uncertainty in his tone gave him away. "Anyone want another drink?"
Nick hugged Athena tightly to his chest.She was shivering and cold, but at least she was alive. "Where are we?" She made a hoarse voice, trying to see her surroundings, thankful that she was still here. "Not yet," Nick replied, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.They were both tied up in an old underground workshop. "We're locked up, but it's not just us." He could hear voices on the other side of the door, one of them clearly Irish.O'Callaghan was apparently feuding bitterly with Ackbar over differences of opinion. "I said we'd finish them off as soon as we got out. Where the hell is Stephenson?" "He'll be where he wants to be," O'Callaghan said. "He's a real bastard. As for our friends? I said leave 'em here and maybe the rats will pick them up. We'd be far away before anyone found them. How can anyone come here so often." Akbar looked around.Garbage and bits and pieces of old factory machinery and furniture piled up to the ceiling, the floor was dirty and wet with some puddles several centimeters deep.The five-storey building is said to have been abandoned and in disrepair.Surrounded by canals, the only way to get in is by boat. "No matter what, I'll leave as soon as it gets dark," Akbar said resolutely, "Just do what you have to do." "Okay, we're exposed," O'Callaghan agreed. "Let's go separately. Stephenson may not be far." "Let him go to hell." Akbar looked at the Irishman with deep eyes. "I just need to deal with a small problem, and then I will go far away." "What's the problem?" O'Callaghan asked. "You won't understand," Akbar said. "It has to be said that it was not a very pleasant meeting, Irishman, may Allah be with you." "You too, friend, you too."