Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Jack held Emily with one arm and the stranger with a hand clamped on her elbow. He waited until his breathing and heart rate slowed almost to normal before he stepped back and glared at his captive.
“Let go of me,” she said. “I won’t run.”
“I’m not letting go until we get some answers,” Jack said, his grip loosening slightly. “First, who are you?”
“Ciara Thomas.” Her gaze darted right, then left. “Could we take this off the street?”
“Are you afraid of someone?” Emily asked.
Ciara nodded. “I was afraid of you.”
“Of us?” Emily frowned. “Why?”
“At first, I thought you were someone else.” She grimaced. “That’s why I hid when you entered the flat. I climbed over the balcony railing and hung on, praying you wouldn’t step through the sliding doors. When you did, I lost my footing and fell.” Ciara’s gaze swept the area surrounding them. “Please. They could be watching.”
“Who are you afraid of?” Emily asked.
“Those who wish to hurt us.”
“How do you know we wouldn’t hurt you?” Jack asked.
The young woman’s lips twisted. “You wouldn’t have helped me off that balcony, if you wanted to hurt me. I also figured out who you were. At least one of you.” She tipped her head toward Emily. “We need to get off the street. I know of a pub where we can talk safely.”
When Jack didn’t move, Ciara sighed. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but it’s not safe to stand on the street. If you don’t want to come with me, take me where you feel safe, and I’ll answer your questions.”
Jack met Emily’s gaze.
She gave him a slight nod.
“Lead the way,” Jack said, and dropped his hand to his side.
Ciara pulled her hoodie over her head and hunched her shoulders, making it impossible to see her face beneath the hood. Then she set out at a brisk walk.
Jack and Emily hurried to keep up with her.
Ciara turned left onto the side street that was narrow and dark. The buildings lining it blocked what little sunshine broke through the ever-cloudy Irish skies.
Two blocks in, she made a right onto another street that was blocked for foot traffic only.
She slowed in front of a pub with a sign hanging over it with bright red letters proclaiming its name as Pick Your Poison Pub. After a quick glance around, Ciara pushed through the door and disappeared inside.
Jack and Emily followed.
Ciara lifted her chin toward the bartender.
He tipped his head toward the back of the tavern.
Jack didn’t like that he knew nothing about Ciara, yet here he was following her blindly into a place he’d never been before.
The room in the back of the pub was empty of customers. Jack thought the girl would stop there, and they could talk. She didn’t. Instead, she touched her hand to a wall. A hidden door swung open, revealing a staircase that led down into darkness. She reached for a flashlight hanging on a hook on the wall, turned it on and started down the steps.
When Jack stopped short of the door, Ciara looked back with a frown. “I promise, no one will hurt you. It’s just safer here than most anywhere in the city. I’m trusting you with the knowledge and location of this door; you can trust me that you will not be harmed.”
Jack turned to Emily.
“We just risked our lives for this woman. And she obviously knows my brother since she was in his apartment. I want answers,” Emily stepped past Jack and followed Ciara down the stairs into a stone-lined tunnel.
Jack guessed they’d walked the length of a city block before they came to a heavy steel door.
Ciara pushed it open into what appeared to be an old storage closet with items dating back to what appeared to be World War II.
By this time, Jack was beginning to wonder if she was leading them into a trap. He touched Emily’s shoulder and motioned for her to get behind him.
With a frown, she let him pass her silently.
Ciara led them through broken furniture, old crates and stacks of cardboard boxes to another hidden door. Jack wouldn’t have known the door was there if Ciara hadn’t opened it by pulling a lever that appeared to be a hook on the wall that could have been placed there to hang a broom or mop on.
She switched off her flashlight, plunging them into darkness, and then pulled the door toward her, revealing a cavernous room at least half the length of a football field. In the room, there were dozens of cots lined up on either side of the walls. Lights hung from the ceiling, casting a soft yellow glow over the people going about their lives hidden beneath the streets and buildings of Dublin.
Children gathered in various groups with an adult teaching lessons using old-fashioned chalkboards. Other women worked sweeping, cleaning, cooking or caring for infants and toddlers. A few old men sat in a corner, talking among themselves.
Ciara turned toward them with a finger pressed to her lips.
Jack and Emily moved closer to her.
“This is the basement of what once was a distillery. It was used as a bomb shelter during World War II and now houses eighty-seven souls trying to escape the violence that has overtaken their lives in and near Dublin,” Ciara whispered. “These nomads have had to hunker down and hide over the past months.”
The door in which they stood occupied a shadowy corner of the basement. They could see out, but Jack doubted anyone would notice them standing there.
“Travellers?” Emily asked softly.
Ciara nodded. “The men still try to work where they can find jobs to help pay for food and clothing, but those jobs are fewer and harder to find. Employers are afraid to hire Travellers for fear of the violence coming to their businesses.”
“These people shouldn’t have to be afraid to live,” Emily said. She turned to Ciara. “Do you live here as well?”
Ciara shook her head. “I attend Trinity College and live in a flat not far from there. I don’t share my family connection with other students, faculty or anyone who might have an issue with my heritage. I just wanted to further my education and pursue other opportunities not normally afforded to our kind. When the violence started, I had to be even more vigilant, hiding my true identity while doing what I could to help my people.”
“When did they go into hiding?” Jack asked.
“The first murder didn’t send us running. The victim hadn’t been active in the family for some time. Only the old-timers knew he was one of us as he’d more or less hidden that part of himself from others in order to blend in and build a business in financial advising and investments. He was so well insulated from his people that he was engaged to marry into the Irish society.”
“What happened to him?” Emily asked.
“His body was found floating in the River Liffey.”
“Cause of death?” Jack asked.
Ciara shrugged. “The medical examiner didn’t find any drugs or poisons in his system. There were no wounds or bruises, so they couldn’t definitively say he was murdered. The news reported his death as suicide, assuming he’d jumped off a bridge.
“The Traveller family wasn’t as convinced but didn’t question the ruling until one of our brothers, who was working the night shift at the wharf, disappeared during his shift. He was found in a metal container days later. He’d been beaten to death. He was a good man, working to provide for his family. He left behind a pregnant wife and two small children.”
Emily shook her head. “It’s so senseless.”
“When your father was killed in that automobile accident, our leader started moving families into hiding,” Ciara said.
Emily’s brow creased. “You knew my father?”
“Not personally,” Ciara admitted.
“But you know my brother,” Emily stated.
Ciara nodded.
“He moved out of his apartment,” Emily said. “Do you know where he’s staying?”
Ciara hesitated for a long moment, her gaze meeting Emily’s. Then she nodded. “He’s staying with me.”
Emily’s eyebrows rose.
The young woman gave Emily a weak smile. “We met at the Pick Your Poison Pub a few weeks ago. He was looking for his roots in the Traveller community. I was decompressing from semester exams.” Ciara shrugged. “We talked for hours. He told me about his father, who’d died recently, his older sister, who ran the family business and how much he missed living in the United States.”
“He’d lost his mother and left so many friends he’d grown up with,” Emily said. “I think it was hardest on him. I missed my mother, but I’d moved on from my school friends and was trying to make it on my own.”
Ciara’s lips quirked upward on the corners. “He told me all that and how he wasn’t ready to go to college, though his father and sister had been pushing him in that direction. When your father died, he felt like there was nothing left to keep him at the place he’d never considered home.”
“I wish he would’ve talked to me,” Emily said.
The young woman nodded. “I listened. We spent more and more time together. My people began moving into the shelter little by little under the cover of night. Those who work on the surface are careful to come and go without drawing attention to the secret passages leading to this shelter. Several times a week, supplies are smuggled in.
A commotion at the far end of the basement made all the occupants tense and turn to see what was happening.
Several men entered, carrying cardboard boxes and large canvas bags.
Everyone gathered around as the contents of the boxes and bags were distributed among the inhabitants.
A single booming voice carried across the room. “It gets harder and harder to bring food here and remain undetected. How long are we going to cower in the bowels of Dublin?”
Ciara tilted her head toward the tall, broad-shouldered man setting a box on the floor. “That’s Rory Gallagher, one of the most outspoken members of the community.” Ciara’s lips pressed into a tight line. “He believes violence should be met with violence. Many of the young men and women are leaning toward his ideology.”
“Are we going to allow the bloodthirsty Nationalists to continue picking us off, one by one?” Rory boomed.
A quieter voice answered, “We’ve worked so very hard to blend into other communities, to avoid violence at all costs. Basically, to be invisible. Violence will only draw more attention to us, making us more of a target.”
“It’s too late. The internet is flooded with news of the Travellers’ violence. Anytime a Nationalist is injured or killed, they blame us. They hide behind masks and attack at night like cowards.”
“We can’t add to the violence. It will only make matters worse,” the Travellers’ leader stated.
“Worse than being killed one by one?” Rory said. “Before long, they’ll find this shelter. Then our women and children will be at risk. Eventually, there will be no one left to carry on our culture.”
“We will not respond by promoting more violence,” the man in charge said, lifting his chin. “There are people searching for the truth, to reveal the real culprits behind the attacks both on our people and on the Nationalists. They need time.”
“Well, I’m not willing to stand around and do nothing. And there are others who feel the same way,” Rory announced.
“Don’t do anything that will give the Nationalists more reason to hate us,” the leader said.
“Wake up, Tristan,” Rory said. “We don’t have to do anything. They hate us anyway.” He turned and left the shelter, followed by several young men who’d arrived with him.
Ciara backed into the store room, closed the door and switched on the flashlight.
“Why did you bring us here, Ciara?” Emily asked.
The young college student’s jaw tightened. “You needed to know what was going on. Finn didn’t want to worry you after your father died, but he’s in deep, following Rory. It’s not that he promotes violence, he just wants to know who’s behind the masked attacks.”
A range of emotions washed over Emily’s face. “I really need to talk to my brother,” she said softly.
“Do you know where we can find him?” Jack asked.
Ciara nodded. “He’s at work on the wharf. He’ll be there another couple of hours. But be careful. The wharf can be a hotbed of skirmishes breaking out between Travellers and the Radical Nationalists.”
When Emily glanced up into Jack’s eyes, his gut knotted. “You want to go there, don’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes. I need to speak with Finn.”
He sighed. “I hoped you’d change your mind.”
“I have to go. My brother could be in over his head,” Emily said.
Ciara nodded. “I can already tell you that he is.”
Great , Jack thought. He bet he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of talking Emily out of going to this hotbed of danger.
Ciara led the way back through the tunnel and into the pub. She stopped in the back room, hung the flashlight on the hook and closed the door so that it blended into the wall.
She gave Emily a tentative smile. “I’m glad I finally got to meet you. Finn talks about you all the time. He’s very proud of his sister and sad you had to take on the burden of the family when your mother died. He loves you very much.”
Emily’s eyes welled with unshed tears. “He has a funny way of showing it. He didn’t take long after my father’s accident to leave home, and I haven’t seen much of him since.”
Ciara’s head dipped. “We met shortly after he left your home. He wanted to learn more about his father’s past, his people and our community.” She smiled shyly. “I wanted to learn more about his life in the United States. We discovered we have a lot in common. Music, the desire to travel, family.” She glanced up. “He worries about you but thinks it best to stay away and limit communication, especially since he’s working to gain Rory’s trust and that of his group of angry young people. Finn might not welcome your visit to his work site.”
“I need to see him. Our uncle was attacked last night,” Emily said. “He asked me to warn Finn.”
Ciara’s eyes widened. “Uncle Paddy?”
Emily nodded.
“What did he want to warn Finn about?” Ciara asked.
“That’s just it,” Emily glanced toward Jack.
“We don’t know,” Jack finished. “We hoped Finn would tell us. Maybe we can help.”
The young Traveller’s forehead creased. “I don’t know. Finn and I talk about almost everything, but sometimes, I think he holds back. I figure he’ll tell me what he thinks I need to know.”
“Are you aware of the posts on social media blaming Travellers for the attacks on Radical Nationals?” Jack asked.
The young woman’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I am. They’re lies. You heard our leader, Tristan. He doesn’t advocate for violence.” She frowned. “Although I don’t know if Rory and his gang have started fighting back. I also see the posts blaming Radical Nationalists for the attacks on Travellers. I’d be more willing to believe those.”
“Do you know if one of your own is sending out the posts blaming the Nationalists for the violence?” Jack asked.
Ciara shook her head. “Whoever is posting changes his name, but I can tell it’s the same person based on the content. The members of our community who have that kind of technical skill are few, and they wouldn’t be sending them out of the shelter. There’s no reception there.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”
“The posts are getting more intense. We think they’re being used to recruit people on both sides.”
“Which could lead to an all-out war, or at least the return of the Troubles…?” Ciara drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll look around. If I find someone posting such things, I’ll let you know. Although I don’t know what you can do about it.”
“Knowing who is fanning the flames might help us come up with a plan to arrest the spread before the fire burns out of control.” Jack’s lips twisted. “Anything you learn could help.”
She nodded. “And for the record, I care about Finn. I don’t like that he’s in with Rory, even if it’s just to find out what’s happening. I’d happily help you douse this fire that seems to be growing throughout Dublin. Our people cannot live like they are for long. We’re a nomadic people. I understand Rory’s anger. Being boxed in is never good for a Traveller.”
Jack stuck out his hand. “Thank you for trusting us enough to share your secret. We won’t pass it on to anyone else.”
Ciara placed her hand in his and stared at them together. “Thank you for lending me this hand and pulling me to safety.” She let go of his hand and hugged Emily. “And thank you for risking your life to come to my aid.”
Emily hugged her back, her brow dipping. “I’m glad Finn has someone he trusts and can talk to and a place to stay.”
They left Ciara in the pub and stepped out into the street.
Jack glanced both ways, studying the people on the sidewalks or standing nearby. Seeing an entire community holed up in an underground shelter made it even more imperative to find the source of the propaganda and make it stop.
Having heard the anger in Rory’s voice and witnessing his desire to meet violence with violence, Jack wondered if it was even possible to stop a movement that was taking on a life of its own.