Chapter Twenty-Four
In which Fee and Alec hire a wedding planner.
Fiadh …
When we arrived on the farm it was pissing rain and as cold as only a West Irish summer could be.
No surprise, Da had the kettle on when he knew we were close so we walked into a steamy warm kitchen that smelled of Barry’s Tea and fresh baked biscuits.
American-style chocolate chip ones, since Da had found out that Alec went to school in the States for a while and wanted to give him a surprise. I wasn’t the only one in the family that was taken with the man.
Rather than joining us, Da ran out to the car to see to Noreen. Alec had agreed to let her fly on his obscene plane if Fintan agreed to let a qualified vet drug her for the flight. She was coming around logy, grumpy, and the rest of the animals and the herb plants would probably pay for the indignity she’d endured, but for the moment she was tucked up in some clean hay whilst my Da made sure she was ok. He was probably singing 'The Gartan Mother's Lullaby' to her, if I knew him.
Him being out of the way meant we could talk about the plan for the wedding ambush.
Alec pulled out an extra-large laptop, something specially cooked up for him by his mad techies, and engaged a special, criminals only version of Zoom. After a few moments, Alastair and Sorcha, a few high up members of the Davies family of funsters, Raul and Meghan Emily from my cohort both looking nervous but excited, and two of the MacTavish brothers were all online.
When Sorcha and Alastair had first broached bringing her family in to the plan Alec had a quiet, internal explosion that I swear took out his pancreas and possibly one of his kidneys. Then he calmed himself and agreed, especially as they already were part of it and it would solve the problem of having enough guests to make it look like a real wedding.
Everyone gave cool, professional greetings as they signed on.
Then, being they were all UK criminals, we had to wait because when they saw we were having our tea they needed to order some up as well.
Fintan had scowled at the fuss of a nice tea made for someone he considered slightly less desirable than cryptosporidiosis parasites in the geese and the sight of those handsome, well-coiffed criminals. Still, he took a cup and several biscuits, which he proceeded to eat by snapping them hard with his teeth as he stared at Alec.
I wasn’t worried about his going along with the plan. No matter how he felt about Alec, Grandad would do anything for me, and enjoyed a bit of violence.
“The first thing we need to do, is you need to get your people to take my animals somewhere safe," Grandad said. "I won’t have the chickens or cows disrupted. Or the goats neither.Noreen can stay, and the ram, Pilib Dubh - he’s a nasty piece of work, he’ll eat his way out of the barn to get into a fight - and the geese, of course. They can probably fight better than any of you posh gobshites and Uni kids.”
Everyone showed their wisdom by not laughing.
“Don’t worry,” I said, putting a hand over one of his, “that is what my people are for. Alastair is supplying some very high-quality trucks, Raul and Meghan Emily will oversee getting the animals to Red Grouse Farm. They’ve agreed to look after them for us. We’ll only leave a few here so it doesn’t look suspicious, and when the uninvited guests arrive they will herd those few up as well and get them into cover in one of the root cellars.”
“You didn’t say there would be geese,” Raul was pale at the thought.
“I’ll handle the geese,” Meghan Emily said. “I have experience with them.”
The criminals looked bemused at the concern over a few farm animals. One of the MacTavishs, Lachlan I think though who could tell, they were like Highland clones, started to say something and wisely respected the look I gave him by staying quiet.
“It is critical that this wedding looks real. The Bonas aren’t stupid even if Leevil seems to be, and as to that, the chatter I’ve picked up lately is saying that he has some special security consultant working his end. A former ghost, a true, scary bastard sort.”
“Ghost?” Sorcha asked.
“A spy, probably US, definitely dangerous if he’s in the private sector.Proper spies either die or get desk jobs, the ones who do it for the sport of it tend to be too hampered by even the little bit of regulation they are given,” Alec told her. “Ok, so to make it look good what do we need? Cake, er, music, chairs?I haven’t been to a wedding in a bit.”
For some reason Sorcha and her brothers started laughing to beat the band.
Cameron, who was apparently the Most MacTavish, spoke. “Let us handle that part. We have a lot of experience with weddings, especially more unorthodox ones. If Mr. Cassidy can send us some photos of his property we will arrange everything. My mother loves planning these events and she is from our world so she understands how things need to be set up for the best range of fire.”
“I can supply drone footage,” Alec added, clicking a few keys. “Sending now.”
Though he seemed calm, a typical billionaire crime family boss faffing about with his computer, at the mention of the MacTavish family matriarch his knuckles had gone white. My free hand went to his forearm, where the touch couldn’t be seen by the camera. His muscles were like stone, that softened slightly under my touch.
It was the only time that had happened.
“I know a band who is made up of former gunrunners,” I offered. “The fiddle player owes me a favor.”
“Send me their information,” Cameron said, making notes. “The Lady Elspeth will want your thoughts on cake, when you have a moment.”
“My thoughts on cake are I prefer anything made with free trade chocolate and plenty of it.”
“What is your favorite type of flower? Yes, I know this is mad and silly at a time like this, but trust me, you’d rather tell me now than having her call you later. I feel like you and our mother would be about as good a combination as a bull and a china shop that was guarded by trained assassins.”
We wasted several minutes as I gave my preferences on a large number of things I couldn’t have given less of a fuck about.Alec sent his man Charles’ information to Cameron, so he could put together the guest list.
“You’re Catholic, too, I imagine?” Cameron asked me.
“In a purely technical sense, yes.”
“I’ll bring the priest, then!” Lachlan chimed in, grinning like he was about to eat a plate of Scottish tablet all by himself. “He’s our family priest and he understands about this sort of thing. Davies, you best have your cheque-book with you, he drives a hard bargain.”
Not knowing what that meant, and yet not wanting to talk to his half-siblings any more than he had to - despite his softening towards Sorcha who could make a boulder smile - Alec moved on.
“Most of the guests will be my people, or members of our respective organizations. That said, in order for it to look right we will need a few important non-combatants. Fee’s father, members of her cohort, my mother.”
That was news to me and a surprise to Alastair.
Alec turned and looked at me, green eyes mischievous, “How about your mum, my bride?”
“HAHAHAHAHAHA! No.”
“That’s fine, Fintan can walk you down the aisle with Martin.”
“The hell I will,” Grandad mumbled.I pushed the biscuit plate towards him, trying not to start laughing again.
“One or two normal guests as well, but the bulk of the guests will be here for the fight. No kids, so we will have to figure out a ring-bearer and flower girl.”
The whole thing was giving me a headache.It would be a relief when the planning was done and the firefight could break out.
“Sorcha,” Alec looked at his sister, “I know you like a good fight, and from what I have heard can hold your own, but it’s important that we have no distractions so I am hoping that you’ll make it your job to see all of those who need to be out of the fight are brought into the farmhouse basement and that they stay there until it's all over. It’ll be safer than trying to load them in cars and drive away and I trust you to be reasonable and keep the situation in hand. Which is more than I can say for most of the people here today.”
I saw a quick look pass between Alastair and Alec, so quick as to be invisible to anyone who had not spent a fair bit of time observing the Davies / Taylor dynamic. There was little doubt in my mind that Alastair had asked Alec to find a way to employ his child bride since she would insist on being useful, whilst still keeping her out of the line of fire.
“Is there going to be any trouble with the local authorities?” one of the Davies people asked.Preet, I thought Alec had said her name was.She was older, with pure white hair and a manner that told anyone with sense she was a very bad woman, indeed.I imagined Grandad was probably half in love with her already.
“The Garda?” he asked, and then laughed, “I could have a MOAB go off out here and they’d not notice.You don’t happen to have one of those, do you, miss?” Grandad asked, all but batting his eyelashes at her.
She smiled and didn’t answer.
Plans for where extra weapons would be hidden around the farm were worked out using the drone footage. For the moment at least Grandad was pleased at seeing his land from that angle, even if things were to go wrong it might all be gone in a few days.
We might all be gone, for that matter.
It was such a pretty place. The purples and greens and golds of the herb patch, just starting to heal up from the last attack. The neat, emerald rows of beans, perfectly straight and true, hard next to the carrot beds, which hid their rainbow jeweled bounty of heirloom brands. The potato fields, nothing to look at, yet lovingly tended to.
The chicken coop, the two barns, the pens for the goats, the few cows kept to supply milk to a cheesemaker in Cork. It was my Grandparent's life, my Da’s heart, my dream of what the world should be like, and I was about to let it be shot to hell.
What a world.
“We all have a lot of work to do, is there anything I haven’t covered before we get started?” Alec asked.
Sorcha raised her hand, “What are we going to do with the bodies? Mr. Cassidy-”
“Fintan to you, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, but my mother wouldn’t stand for it. Do you have pigs on your farm? That would be easy, if there were enough of them. And organic, Fee would like that.”
“Darling,” Alastair murmured, “that is truly revolting. Clever, but revolting.”
“Sorry, I don’t keep ‘em. We can bury the bodies. I have some scrubby woodland in the back of the beyond, no one will find them there. Though if His Nibs,” he jerked a thumb in Alec’s direction, “decides to keep having guests to MY farm I’ll expect him to buy me a drove of Tamsworth pigs. They make a fine bacon.”
Several of the people on the call went a bit green at that point, though not any of the MacTavishs.' Or me. I knew exactly how the sausage was made, having raided factory farms on a few occasions. A properly cared-for pig with an unorthodox but organic diet wasn’t such an upsetting idea compared to some of the things I’d seen.
“Ok, then let's all get to work,” Alec said.
As everyone disconnected, Sorcha called out, “Fee, there are already a few dresses on the way to the farm for you to try on, and I have ideas for Meghan Emily’s and my bridesmaid's dresses as well.”
“Just pick something for me.”
“Don’t be silly. A woman only gets fake married once, I think, you should feel like a princess. ”
Then Alastair disconnected before I could retort.
Alec and Grandad came to a temporary detente at the idea of me as a princess, both taking a fiddle laugh until I reminded them that as the bride I could see them both in powder blue tuxes with ruffled shirts and they’d have to like it. That sobered those hysterical fuckers up but quick.
No sooner had that happened than a van pulled up containing said gowns. A few dresses my ass.
There were twenty-seven.
And she hadn’t mentioned the shoes.
Alec and Da helped me carry armfuls of silk and taffeta, lace and satin, into the house, throwing them on to my bed. They took up so much room it was like a horde of ghost women had decided to invade.
Alec stretched out on my bed, arms behind his head, and grinned. “I suggest starting with the one that has the velvet blush roses on the train and the pearl tiara to hold the veil. That seems you, princess.”
“Are you expecting a bit of show then, Mr. Davies? And if you call me ‘princess’ again you’ll be taking a mobility aide down the aisle.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. Only one or two of them, please? Or seven?”
“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her gown before the wedding? I think we need all of the luck we can get.”
“Hmm… maybe so.” He sat up, looking serious. “Just one, please? The most princess-y ridiculous one of the bunch. I have such filthy thoughts of despoiling you in one of these virginal get-ups.”
“Well, if you’d only said so first. Turn your back, then.”
Eventually he had to use the lace veil to gag me, otherwise Grandad would have killed him before the Bonadonnas had the chance.