Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
Jack woke to the incessant ringing of a cell phone somewhere in the dark.
Emily lay spooned against him, her naked back pressed into his front.
Instantly, he hardened.
But the ringing didn’t stop.
Jack carefully slid his arm from beneath Emily and rolled out of the bed. Once on his feet, he padded into the living room where Emily had left her phone on the counter next to the wine bottle.
As he lifted the device and read the name Finn on the screen, it stopped ringing.
“Who was it?” Emily asked in a gravelly voice as she emerged from the hallway, wearing only the top of her pajamas.
“Finn,” he answered and carried the phone to her.
Emily frowned down at the device, brought up the text messages and gasped. “Ciara was attacked tonight. Finn got one of them before he could get away.” She keyed a return message and spun around, heading for her bedroom.
Jack followed her and gathered the clothes they’d washed the night before after they’d made love. He slipped into his jeans and pulled on his shirt, socks and boots.
All the while Jack dressed, he couldn’t keep himself from watching Emily as she slipped her slender legs into dark pants, snapped her bra in place and pulled a charcoal gray sweater over her head. She quickly dragged her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and slipped her feet into a pair of black running shoes.
He grinned at her. “You look like a cat burglar.”
Her brow wrinkled. “We don’t know what we’re walking into. Since it’s still dark outside?—”
“We might need to fade into the shadows.” He bent and pressed his lips to her forehead. “You make a beautiful shadow.”
She gave him a brief smile before her frown returned. “I’m worried about Ciara. Finn didn’t say how badly she was hurt. And I’m worried about Finn. What if they come back for the guy he caught? They could easily outnumber him.” Emily stuffed her cell phone and her car keys into her pocket and ran for the door.
Jack followed.
When they reached her Mercedes, Emily didn’t hesitate; she climbed into the driver’s seat.
Jack hurried around to the other side and jumped in.
Emily shifted into drive, backed out of the alley and drove onto the street while Jack pulled up the map on his cell phone and brought up the address of Ciara’s apartment. With little traffic out that early in the dark hours of the morning, they made it there in less than fifteen minutes.
An ambulance was leaving as Emily pulled into the parking lot.
Emily and Jack leaped out of the car as Finn emerged from the shadows cast by the apartment complex.
He didn’t say a word but waved for them to follow him to the rear of the building. There, he pointed to two vehicles parked side by side.
Jack rounded the back of the first and glanced at the ground between the vehicles. A man lay unmoving on the pavement, staring up at the dark sky.
Emily stepped up beside Jack and gasped. “Is he...?”
“Dead,” Finn confirmed. “Ciara picked me up at the wharf when I got off my shift. They jumped us as we were getting out of her car. There were three of them wearing black ski masks. If I hadn’t insisted on keeping the tire iron under the seat...” He shook his head. “As it is, they knocked Ciara down before I could go after them. I got a good hit on all three. When I hit this one, he fell and smacked his head on the side mirror of the car. He didn’t get up. I was more worried about Ciara. After I called for an ambulance, I checked for a pulse on this guy.” Finn met Emily’s gaze, his forehead deeply creased. “There was no pulse, and he wasn’t breathing. He’s dead.” He shook his head from side to side. “I’ve never killed a man before.”
Emily went to her brother and wrapped her arms around him. “You did what you had to do to defend Ciara and yourself.”
“They could’ve killed her,” Finn said.
His sister backed away, letting her arms fall to her sides. “How is she?”
“Banged up,” he said. “She hit her head on the ground when they knocked her down. She might have a concussion.”
“Why didn’t you go with her to the hospital?” Emily asked.
“I needed you to get here,” Finn shoved a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do about him. I could be arrested for murder.”
“It was self-defense,” Jack said.
Finn paced away and back. “If this guy is one of the Radical Nationalists, whether it was self-defense or not, they’ll call it murder.”
“Did you check his pockets for identification?” Jack asked.
Finn nodded. “He wasn’t carrying a wallet or any kind of ID.”
Jack leaned over the deceased and snapped photos with his cell phone. “I’ll have our computer guru run his face through some databases and see if she can get a match through facial recognition.” He straightened and forwarded the images to Lucie.
“What do we do with him, now?” Finn asked.
Jack glanced up at the apartment building. “Are there any security cameras anywhere near here?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Finn said. “Ciara said the tenants have asked the landlord to install some for safety reasons, but he hasn’t done it. As for nearby buildings, I have no idea. Even if there were, there are trees on either side of the structure, and this complex backs up to a drainage ditch.”
“Then let’s drag him into the drainage ditch and leave him,” Jack said. “Maybe his buddies will come looking for him. Let them dispose of the body. If not, we’ll deal with him later.”
“Shouldn’t we report the attack and the dead man?” Emily asked.
“The press would be on your brother in a heartbeat. If it got out that Finn killed the man, and he ends up being one of the Radical Nationalists, they’ll come after Finn.”
“Won’t they anyway?” Emily asked. “The two that got away will know and spread the word.”
“Maybe so,” Jack said. “But not as quickly as the news reporters.”
“If I live long enough to go to jail, they’ll come after Ciara next.”
Jack grabbed the man beneath the shoulders. “It might be time to get some help from my Brotherhood Protectors team. I’ll give them a call as soon as we get this guy moved.”
Finn lifted the man by the ankles. Between the two men, they carried him into the drainage ditch and several yards further away from the apartment building.
Emily followed.
After they laid him down beneath a scrubby bush, all three of them scrambled up the banks of the ditch and returned to the parking lot.
“Get in my car,” Emily said. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
Finn followed her to the Mercedes and cursed when he saw the writing sprayed across the finish. “Bastards. They hit you again?”
“Not me personally,” Emily said.
Finn clenched his fists. “It’s only a matter of time. They’re getting bolder and attacking more often. Something has to be done about the Radical Nationalists.”
“Do we know for certain that they were the ones who attacked you?” Emily asked.
“Who else could it be?” Finn flung his hands in the air. “They hate Travellers.” His lips pressed into a tight line. “And we hate them.”
Jack climbed into the passenger seat. Emily slipped behind the steering wheel and started the engine.
Once Finn dropped into the back seat, Emily drove out of the parking lot.
Emily glanced at her brother in the rearview mirror before returning her gaze to the road ahead. “Finn, you’ve been hanging around Rory and his bunch, right?”
“Yeah?” he murmured. “So?”
“Is it possible someone from his group is stirring up trouble?” she asked.
“Why would you ask that?” Finn leaned forward. “Do you think the Travellers, a nomadic people, like having their families hiding in a basement because they’re afraid they’ll be attacked on the streets? What purpose would it serve to make the Radicals hate them any more than they already do?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said.
“It’s the Radicals who are serving up hatred on social media platforms,” Finn said. “Have you seen some of the messages they’ve been posting?”
Emily nodded. “That’s just it. We’ve seen messages supposedly posted by Travellers spreading the same kinds of things.”
Finn shook his head. “It’s not coming from the Travellers. They get enough bad press without throwing gasoline on the fire.”
As Jack listened to Emily and Finn, he composed a text to the Brotherhood Protectors International lead, Ace Hammerson, explaining what had been happening and how he suspected they might need assistance soon if the situation spiraled out of control. At the very least, he wanted guidance on what to do with the dead man. He sent the message, wondering what Ace’s reaction would be when he read the part about them moving the body when they should have called the Garda and let them handle it.
He hoped by the time Ace got the text, Lucie would have a match on the facial recognition database.
“Do you get the feeling the attackers aren’t members of the Radical Nationalists or the Travellers?” Jack voiced his thoughts aloud.
Emily and Finn turned to stare at him.
“If not either of them, then who?” Emily asked.
“And why?” Finn added.
“That’s a good question.” Jack glanced over his shoulder at Finn and then across to Emily. “You two have been in this country longer than I have. Who would benefit most by stirring up trouble between the Travellers and the Radical Nationalists?”
“No one,” Emily said. “It would be insane.”
“Maybe it’s someone who still dreams of making Ireland one nation only?” Finn said.
“If that were the case, wouldn’t they move the fight to Northern Ireland?” Jack said, playing Devil’s advocate.
Emily shook her head. “It makes no sense to get the two factions fired up and angry with each other. If they wanted to unify North and South, picking fights between the Radicals and Travellers won’t accomplish anything.”
“Unless whoever is pushing the narrative is creating a distraction for something else?” Jack glanced back at Finn again. “Anything going on in Dublin they might want people to ignore or miss?”
Finn frowned. “Not that I can recall. And we hear a lot of the rumors on the wharf.”
Jack nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt to keep our eyes and ears open for something unusual looming on the horizon.”
“In the meantime,” Emily said, “we’re here.” She pulled into the hospital parking lot as the gray light of predawn crept over the city.
“Tell Ciara we’re thinking about her,” Emily said. “If you or Ciara needs anything, let me know.”
“Where are you going?” Finn asked.
“I want to check on Uncle Paddy,” she said. “Hopefully, he’s awake and feeling better.”
“Be careful, Sis. I don’t know what’s happening or why, but there are a lot of angry people in Dublin right now.”
Emily stared at her brother in the rearview mirror. “Same goes for you. Don’t get caught up in mob mentality with Rory and his friends. We might not have all the right information, which could mean someone is manipulating both sides of this equation.”
Finn reached for her hand over the back of the seat. “Love you, Em.”
She clasped his hand and smiled at him through the reflection. “Love you, too, Finn.”
Her brother pushed open the car door, jumped out and hurried toward the hospital entrance.
“You don’t want to check on Ciara?” Jack asked.
“I want to see Uncle Paddy. If he’s awake, he might remember something or have a clue as to why this is happening.” Emily shifted into reverse, backed out of the parking space and headed for Dr. Kelly’s place.
“You might want to park behind the doctor’s building,” Jack said. “With the new paint job, your vehicle is highly conspicuous.”
Emily nodded and drove around to the back of the building into an alley.
They climbed out of the Mercedes and pushed through a garden gate into the townhouse’s small backyard. Jack knocked sharply on the back door.
Moments later, a curtain shifted in a window beside the door. The click of a deadbolt being unlocked sounded. Peter Atkins pulled open the door. “Collins, Ms. O’Brien.” He stepped aside and allowed them to enter.
Standing further back in the hallway, Dr. Aoife Kelly smiled at Jack and Emily.
“Good morning, Aoife,” Emily said with a smile. “We’re sorry to drop by so early, but we wanted to check on my uncle.”
“I’m glad you did,” Aoife held the door wide. “Please, come in. Your uncle is awake, hungry and cranky. Maybe you can distract him while I prepare breakfast for him.”
“Sounds like he’s feeling better. We’ll do our best to distract him. Go. Do what you need to,” Emily said and ducked into the room where they’d taken her uncle the night before.
Jack fell in step with Peter Atkins as they followed Emily into the room.
“Em, my darling child,” Paddy O’Brien called out in a booming voice. “Did you come to spring me from this prison and its warden?” He threw aside his blanket and started to swing his legs over the side.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Emily touched a hand to his legs, stalling his effort to climb out of bed. “Stay,” she said.
“I already have one woman giving me orders,” her uncle groused, “I don’t need another.” With Emily standing at his bedside, Paddy couldn’t get up and loom over her with his bushy eyebrows like he did when he wasn’t getting his way. The old man sighed. “I’m not sick. I don’t need to stay in bed all day, every day.”
“I don’t expect you to.” Emily smiled and laid a hand on her uncle’s arm. “Are you ready to tell me why you were attacked and who attacked you?”
Uncle Paddy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I might have information they want.”
Jack moved closer to Paddy’s bedside. “What information?”
Emily’s uncle met his niece’s stare and held it, his brow furrowing. “You might be angry when you hear it.”
“Angry or not,” Emily said, “let’s hear it.”
“You know that automobile crash that supposedly took your father?”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Supposedly?”
“Well,” her uncle said, “it might not have been your father in that vehicle.” He grimaced. “In fact, the body in the vehicle might already have been dead when the vehicle went up in flames.”
“Uncle Paddy,” Emily said, “you need to stop beating around the bush and tell it to me straight.”
Paddy shook his head and winced. “Damned headache.” He sighed. “Anyway, that wasn’t your father’s charred remains in his vehicle.”
Emily glared at the old man. “What are you saying?” she asked, her voice low and intense.
“Seamus O’Brien didn’t die in the crash. He’s alive and well, and hiding in Dublin.”
Emily gasped. “He isn’t? That’s wonderful!” Her eyes widened, and joy spread across her lips for a brief moment before her frown returned. “But the body... Who was it?”
“They borrowed an unclaimed body from the morgue,” her Uncle Paddy said.
“They?” Jack asked.
Paddy looked left, then right, before meeting Jack’s gaze. “The J2, also known as the DMI.”
Emily frowned. “J2? DMI? As in Ireland’s Directorate of Military Intelligence?”
Her uncle nodded.
“Why would they do that?” Jack asked.
“Seriously?” Atkins said. “Government entities don’t normally ‘borrow’ bodies from morgues.”
“Since his cover was blown,” Paddy said, “I suppose it doesn’t matter if I tell you what I know.”
Emily shook her head. “What cover? What are you talking about?”
“Your father, Seamus O’Brien.” Her uncle spoke to her as if she were a thick-headed child. “He was an undercover informant to J2 in a special peacekeeping effort created shortly after the Troubles ended.”
Emily shoved a hand through her hair. “How did I not know this?”
Her uncle’s brow rose. “If everyone had known, he wouldn’t have been undercover.”
“But he’s my father.” She waved her hand in the air. “We’re family.” Her eyes narrowed. “But he told you. Does anyone else know?”
Paddy grimaced. “I think Finn suspects as much.”
Emily drew in a breath and let it out in a huff. “Am I the only one in the dark about my father?”
“Apparently not,” her uncle said. “As I was sayin’, his cover was blown while he was searching for the source of the propaganda pitting the Radical Nationalists against the Travellers and vice versa.
“Fortunately, he found the explosives attached to his car before it was too late. He contacted his handler in J2. They immediately commandeered a body from the morgue, placed it in Seamus’s car and remotely triggered the explosion, making certain the body inside burned past recognition.” Paddy touched his niece’s hand. “He hated doing that to you and Finn, what with the funeral and all. But he had been discovered. He wasn’t safe, and he wasn’t sure you and Finn would be safe unless he died or disappeared.”
Emily’s brow dipped low. “You knew all this time?”
Paddy shrugged. “Not all that time.”
“Did you know at the funeral?”
The old man shook his head. “No. Like you, I thought he was dead. Imagine my surprise when he stepped up beside me in the supermarket on the fresh produce aisle, wearing a trench coat, a flat cap and a full beard.” Emily’s uncle chuckled. “I thought I saw and heard a ghost and nearly knocked over a display of apples.”
Emily’s frown softened. “Is that why you were attacked behind the pub?”
Paddy nodded. “They wanted me to tell them where he could be found.”
“You know where he is?” Emily asked.
“No,” Paddy said. “I told him I didn’t want to know, that he would have to contact me via burner phones and supermarket meetups.” His lips twisted. “I’m not going to lie. If I could have, I might’ve told them where to find him.” He rubbed a hand over his chest and winced.
Emily took her uncle’s hand. “Instead, you took one for the team.” She lifted her chin. “You need to lie low and not go out until this situation is resolved.” When he started to say something, Emily raised a hand. “At the very least, you need to lie low until you heal. You’re not a spring chicken anymore.”
“This old body can take a lot more than you think.” He tried to sit up, groaned and sank back against the pillows. “Well, it was three against one.”
Emily smiled. “If my father contacts you, let him know that I know he’s alive and kicking, and that I’m glad. I had a feeling that wasn’t him in the car.”
Her uncle raised an eyebrow. “Really? How so?”
“No ring on his hand,” she said. “He never takes off his wedding ring.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to her uncle’s forehead. “Stay inside and safe.”
“You’re a good lass, Emily O’Brien. So much like your lovely mother,” Paddy said. “You need to stay safe. From what I heard, they have you in their crosshairs now. They might think you know where to find Seamus.”
Jack stepped forward and cupped Emily’s elbow. “I’ll keep an eye on her, sir.”
“I trust you will,” Paddy said.
They left the old man’s room to find Aoife and Atkins waiting in the hallway.
“He’s full of sass and orneriness, is he not?” Aoife said with a grin.
“He is,” Emily said. “I’m glad. I was worried.”
“We’ll take good care of him,” Atkins said.
Aoife nodded. “Before long, he’ll be back on his feet, driving you crazy.”
As they left the doctor’s garden and slipped into the Mercedes, Jack’s cell phone chimed with an incoming text from Lucie.
With the message, she sent two images. One from the photo he’d taken of the dead man, the other a picture of the same man, not so gray and apparently alive at the time the photograph had been taken.
Lucie: Your stiff is Frank Bycowski, former Idaho SWAT team and diehard survivalist. Last suspected employment was with Shadow Syndicate, an organization notorious for providing guns for hire to the highest bidder for personalized takedowns, including target neutralization. I take it you are aware of the resurrection of Seamus O’Brien?
Jack’s jaw hardened as he responded to Lucie’s text.
Jack: I expect full disclosure on assignments. Why was this information kept from me?
Lucie: Mr. O’Brien asked that we not share the knowledge until he knew how badly his cover was blown. He suspected the attacks were being conducted by a third party, not the Radicals or Travellers.
Jack: Now that we know the truth, what’s the plan?
Lucie: Taking it to the boss for guidance. In the meantime, I’ll follow the money trail from Bycowski to the source.
Jack: Roger. Thanks.
Emily drove the Mercedes away from the doctor’s apartment complex. She shot a glance toward him. “News from your friends at the Brotherhood?”
Jack nodded. “The dead man was a mercenary.”
Emily’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Do you think the ones who attacked Finn and Ciara are the same ones targeting the Radicals and the Travellers? All the attacks have been by men in black ski masks.”
Jack nodded. “It appears that way.”
“So, it’s a ruse to make each side think the other is causing trouble.” Emily’s lips thinned as she headed back across Dublin toward the pub. “Who would do this and why?”
“That’s what we have to find out.”
Emily’s worried frown faded into a smile. “And my father has been working the issue from the start. The best news of the day is that he didn’t die in the crash.” Her lips turned downward. “But that crash was meant for him.”
“And now, they’re after the rest of your family.” Jack didn’t like that at all. The attacks weren’t random. They wanted all of the O’Brien family.
“Do you think they’re going after us to bring my father out in the open?” Emily asked, her voice hushed.
Jack gave her a grim glance. “I’d bet money they are.”