The 28th for a trial run? Wyl thought. The 29th is the day he plans to launch the cyberattack.

“Well, let’s start with lunch,” Wyl said. “Where are you taking me?”

“We have a decent canteen here on campus,” Ailbe said. “We can grab a couple of sandwiches and come back to my office for a chat over lunch.” Ailbe winked as he said the word chat.

“Chat, eh?” If Ailbe wanted to play a game, Wyl must play along. “After our chat, I can delve into more projects.”

“Follow me,” Ailbe said.

“Lead the way.” Wyl figured Ailbe thought he was a pushover, precisely what he wanted him to think.

* * *

O’Brien strolled down the hallway of the Arts Millennium Building on the Galway University campus. Reaching his destination, he tapped the doorframe of Declan Knowlan’s office.

Declan glanced up from his desk. “Yes, sir?”

“Mr. Knowlan, I’m Chief Superintendent O’Brien of Garda. Might I have a word with you?” A brief flash of alarm showed in Declan’s eyes.

Declan forced a smile and stood. “By all means, Chief Superintendent. Won’t you come in and have a seat?” He motioned toward the chair before his desk.

“Thank you.” O’Brien entered the office and sat in the comfortable cloth chair.

“What can I do for you?” Declan occupied himself, straightening the papers on his desk before he sat and gazed at O’Brien.

“Mr. Knowlan, may we have a private conversation?” O’Brien nodded his head toward the open door.

“Aye. Let me close the door.” Declan moved around the desk to shut his office door. “Now, what warrants your visit?”

“I’ll come straight to the point, Knowlan,” O’Brien said. He dropped the familiar Mr. from his name. “Phone records show MacGowan telephoned you at unusual times within twenty-four hours of each of the suspicious student deaths. I need you to tell me about the nature of those phone calls, and in return, I might consider a deal.”

“And what makes you think I have anything unusual to report?” Declan perched his butt on the corner of his desk, one foot dangled with the other foot planted on the floor, remaining above O’Brien in a superior position.

“Knowlan, you and MacGowan have a habit of talking on the telephone every afternoon. On two occasions, you connected for a brief morning conversation.”

“I assume you have recordings of these conversations, Chief?” Declan folded his arms across his chest.

“No, but the coincidence between the two calls and the two murders is something I want to follow up on.” O’Brien removed the small notebook and pencil from his pocket. He flipped open the notebook and wrote.

“Chief, on both occasions, Dr. McGowan’s lab experienced connection problems. He called to find out if my campus encountered similar difficulties. A simple yes or no question needs no further explanation. I fail to understand how a quick phone call is tied to a criminal investigation.” Declan glared at O’Brien, his brow furrowed and his jaw set.

“I assume you reported these problems to your IT department?” O’Brien asked.

“Chief, a temporary outage requires no trouble ticket or IT involvement.”

“I understand…” O’Brien made notes.

“Chief, if you have an accusation, make it. Otherwise, you’re wasting my time.” Declan stood to open the door.

“Very well.” O’Brien folded his notebook and stuffed it and the pencil into his pocket before heaving his ample frame from the office chair, huffing as he stood. He stopped in the doorway and faced Declan. “I’m watching you, Knowlan. Coincidences are never coincidental.” He paused. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

O’Brien turned and left.

* * *

Back in Ailbe’s office, they sat to enjoy their lunch. Wyl sat in front of the desk, with Ailbe in his usual seat.

“So, how long have you been gay?” The crinkle of waxed paper crowded Ailbe’s words.

“What an unusual question, Ailbe,” Wyl tugged at a small bag of crisps to open one end.

“You and Rod are so different. I figured you to have a military man tucked away somewhere for weekend trysts. A little something on the side?” Ailbe bit into his chicken salad sandwich and chewed as he gazed at Wyl.

“I never dated anyone until Rod came along.” Wyl aimed an unblinking stare at Ailbe. “During my service years, the Marines transferred me often, so I didn’t develop relationships. Too difficult to sever when I moved on.” Wyl fingered a crisp into his mouth and crunched.

“You haven't answered my question about you being gay.” Ailbe reached for his bottle of cola. The cap hissed as he twisted it open.

“Rod is the first person I let myself be close to besides family. I never considered being gay or straight and struggled with my attraction to Rod. But now I can’t imagine myself with anyone else.” Wyl bit a corner from half of his cheese sandwich.

"We make quite a team, you and me,” Ailbe said. “Our combined expertise and experience opens the world up to us.” Ailbe’s cold, calculating stare conveyed his seriousness.

“I’m on my honeymoon, Ailbe. I hope you’re not suggesting I dump my husband and set up housekeeping with you.” Wyl figured Ailbe hoped for such a scenario.

“Be aware you have options.” Ailbe popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth.

They finished their lunch in silence. After lunch, Ailbe handed Wyl five completed projects to review. The intensive review took several hours. Wyl spent the afternoon inspecting the code, looking for any glaring errors. On occasion, he keyed the code into the computer and used an internal code-checking application to validate. He found no errors. The solid, clean work impressed him.

By four o’clock, he returned the finished projects to Ailbe’s office.

“I’m taking off for the day,” Wyl said. “Rod and I are planning a quiet evening at home tonight,”

Ailbe took the stack of papers from Wyl. “You go and enjoy your evening. Come again in the morning when you’re ready. I’ll leave five more projects on the desk in your office.”

“Perfect.”

“And think about our conversation at lunch. Wyl Sterling - World Power.”

“Interesting proposal. I'll be in tomorrow.” Wyl turned and headed outside, calling a cab to take him home.

* * *

Wyl entered the flat to a wonderful aroma. “What are you cooking, babe?”

“Dinner for my hard-working husband.” Rod leaned in for a kiss. “How did your day go with Ailbe?” Rod turned back to the stove, stirring the saucepan.

“Okay.” Wyl wrapped his arms around his husband from behind, nuzzling his ear. Based on his husband's reaction when they had their play-the-game conversation, Wyl wouldn’t share about Ailbe’s proposition at lunch. “Is it dinner time already?”

“No. You’re smelling the sautéed onions and peppers for the stuffing. I’m making stuffed pork chops. They must bake for an hour, so dinner won’t be for a while. What did you and Ailbe do today?”