in this very room where the master directive was fleshed out more than fifty years before, the plan members of the LP had been working on since that day. All the original members were dead now, but their vision remained. And it was for the fulfillment of this vision that Hardwick had developed his proposal.
"Sit down," Mr. Kidd said. He was a robust seventy-four. Sharp, in shape, and full of an energy Hardwick himself also possessed. His face gave nothing away, though, as he watched the younger man take the seat next to him.
"How did it go?" Hardwick asked.
There was a pause, then Mr. Kidd began to smile. "Exactly like you predicted. Your proposal was clear and to the point. Most were able to see the merits immediately. For a few, it took a little bit longer."
Several hours longer, Hardwick knew, but only said, "So I can get started?"
"A question first. Do you know if Mr. Rose was able to confirm the event he's selected for his target?"
"Yes," Hardwick said. "I'm told it's locked, and there is little chance it will be changed."
"And the procurement?"
"I had to be careful getting this information, of course, but it appears Mr. Rose has someone he's hired from the outside already on it. I understand they have already picked up," he paused, "children from various locations. His target number is between twenty-four and thirty."
Mr. Kidd frowned. "Distasteful. But necessary, I guess."
"So Mr. Rose seems to believe."
"Well, James, you now have the full backing of the council," Mr. Kidd said.
"So I can start immediately?" Hardwick asked. He could feel his excitement building, but he let none of it show.
"Yes."
"Thank you," he said to his boss. He started to stand. "I should go. I have plenty to do."
"There is just one other thing," Mr. Kidd said.
Hardwick stopped next to the chair, worried that some condition had been added to his plan that would jeopardize its success. "What is it?"
"From now on, you can address me as Chairman."
Hardwick stared at his boss for a moment. "Seriously?"
"Chairman Vine . . . Mr. Vine suggested it himself, and the others agreed."
Hardwick thrust out his hand. "Congratulations, sir. This is fantastic."
"Is it?" Chairman Kidd said. He didn't take Hardwick's hand. "If your proposal doesn't work out, I'm fairly certain I'll become the shortest-term Chairman in the history of the LP." He locked eyes with Hardwick. "I'd appreciate it if you could make sure that doesn't happen."
Hardwick grinned as he reached down with both hands and grabbed his boss's, shaking it with confidence. "I guarantee it."
CHAPTER
1
MAY 25
THE MEETING LOCATION HAD BEEN CHOSEN FOR ITS isolation, an abandoned Catholic church on the east side of a little-used road fifty kilometers northwest of Cork, Ireland, near the border between County Tipperary and County Cork. The structure that remained was all but invisible from the road. One of those places only a local would know about, then forget over time.
As a bonus, no one lived within a kilometer and a half of the ruins, making it a natural choice for an exchange. In the two days Jonathan Quinn had been scouting the location, no more than a dozen cars a day had driven past, and not a single one had even slowed, let alone stopped.
The roof of the church had long since disappeared, leaving only the gray, pitted stone walls of the chapel. Encouraged by the wet Irish climate, vegetation had grown up around the building, both surrounding it and filling the inside. It was as if a congregation of flora was waiting in the open-air sanctuary for a priest who had yet to arrive.
Nearby, an untended cemetery provided the only reminder that people had once worshipped here. Quinn didn't know how long the compound had been abandoned, but the most recent grave marker he'd located had been for someone named Maureen Owens, year of death 1889. So it wasn't hard to imagine that it had been at least a century since any parishioners had gathered between the chapel walls.
Quinn did a last walk-through just after noon, careful to step only on broken stones or patches of grass to avoid leaving any trace of his presence. He double-checked to make sure all the cameras and microphones were well hidden and working. When he was satisfied, he returned on foot to the van parked a half kilometer away.
The meeting was scheduled for nine that evening. According to the agreed-upon terms, the informant was to arrive from the south, while the man from Quinn's client—an organization