Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
“We need concrete information fast,” Jack said into his cell phone, “something tangible and big enough to get the attention of a massive crowd before they turn on each other.”
“You don’t need information,” Lucie Monroe said, “you need a miracle.”
Jack had led Emily up the stairs to her apartment, sat her at her dining table and fixed her a cup of tea. Then he’d placed a three-way video call to Lucie Monroe and Ace Hammerson.
Lucie leaned toward the camera on her monitor. Though her youthful appearance with her purple eyebrows and purple hair didn’t inspire adult confidence, her results did. “We have information coming in as we speak. Ace, you want to fill them in on what we know so far?”
“We’ve been receiving data and images over the past thirty minutes. Some from Seamus O’Brien and some from the queries Lucie has made through her contacts on the dark web.”
Lucie jumped in. “More deets on the dead mercenary. He was from a particular team of mercenaries who call themselves Night Shade. They used to work for the Shadow Syndicate. Though the Syndicate’s owner disavows any responsibility for their work, my contacts in the dark web say the Syndicate is behind their efforts. Though if they’re caught, they’re on their own. That specific group of his is known not just as guns for hire, but as assassins for hire. They’re skilled in a variety of weapons, hand-to-hand combat and demolitions. A call went out on the dark web approximately three months ago by an anonymous source looking for assistance with a special project needing the help of Night Shade.”
“Lucie followed the money flowing into an account owned by our dead guy, Frank Bycowski,” Ace said. “The money came from another account in the Caymans under a corporate name buried in another account fed from another in Switzerland under the name Bacon Meister Enterprises.”
“For the record,” Lucie said, “Bacon Meister was the name of Frank’s pit bull that had to be euthanized after it bit a kid’s face off back in Missouri.”
“Lucie found a large sum of money dropped into the Swiss account that fed the others in smaller sums,” Ace said. “When she went after the drop in the Swiss account, she found it had come from one of the Shadow Syndicate’s secret accounts.”
“Long story short,” Lucie cut in, “the money came from an account in Dublin—a campaign funds account that supports one of the Nationalist Party’s prime candidates.”
“Cormac Faherty?” Emily had come to stand beside Jack.
“That’s right,” Ace said.
“Why would he want to pit the Radical Nationalists against the Travellers before his big campaign rally?” Emily asked. “You’d think he would want a peaceful rally to demonstrate his ability to maintain order.”
“I can’t read the man’s mind,” Lucie said. “All I can feed you are the facts. Money from his campaign donations is funding the mercenaries killing people from the Radical Nationalists and the Irish Travellers.”
“What information has my father provided?” Emily asked.
“Photographs of weapons, plastic explosives and detonators brought into Dublin’s port and stored in a warehouse. He has also provided photos and videos of men dressed in wharf worker coveralls going into the warehouse either empty-handed or with an empty bag and coming out carrying full bags and stacks of cardboard boxes on hand trucks. They wear baseball caps and keep their heads down to hide their faces. Fortunately, Seamus was able to get clear enough shots to run their faces through facial recognition software. They match with more of the Shadow Syndicate’s rogue operatives that now make up the Night Shade team.”
“When did you get that information?” Emily asked.
“Last night,” Lucie said. “Getting the match on Bycowski helped us tie things together through his bank account all the way to Faherty’s. That took a hot minute.”
“What we haven’t determined is the identity of the person pushing the hate narrative,” Ace said.
“The Flamethrower, as Jack has tagged him,” Lucie said. “Good one, by the way. I was able to refine the photograph you sent of the man leaving the alley beside Ms. O’Brien’s pub. Although his face wasn’t visible, I determined the nature of the tattoo on the back of his hand.”
Lucie flashed an image onto Jack’s cell phone. “That’s a tattoo of a Celtic cross with ivy and a ribbon draped over either side of the cross. Normally, when you see such a tattoo, it’s in rich colors, celebrating the tradition of handfasting. As it is, all black, it represents the death of someone the wearer had handfasted.”
Jack frowned. “Handfasted?”
“Married,” Emily said softly. “Not all weddings are performed in a church. Handfasting was a common way to pledge one’s life to another.”
“So, this guy who could potentially be our social media flamethrower lost a loved one.” Jack shook his head. “How does that help us find him?”
“Could he have lost her through a conflict between Radical Nationalists and Travellers?” Emily asked.
“I ran searches on clashes between the two factions and didn’t find any deaths of a female Traveller attributed to Radical Nationalists,” Lucie said. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And based on the guy’s hand, he’s not that big and maybe young, like a teen. I could only do so much to enhance the photo.”
“What does it matter anyway?” Jack shook his head. “Even if we find this guy, it’ll be too late. From what you’ve said, the mercenaries have collected enough weapons and explosives to kill a lot of people. If it’s happening at the rally, it might be too late to stop them.”
“Can we get the government to call off the rally?” Emily asked.
“The two sides are gathering as we speak,” Jack said. “Even if the government calls it off, they’re going to be there. The Flamethrower has thrown down the gauntlet, inciting both sides to riot.”
“We have to do something. People will die,” Emily said. “I think about the women and children hiding in the basement of that distillery. Their loved ones are going to that rally to fight for them, but they’re fighting for the wrong reasons and the wrong people. They need to know before it’s too late. Cormac Faherty needs to be exposed for what he’s doing to our city. To our country. This could reignite the Troubles and destroy the peace people have worked so hard to attain.”
The doorknob to Emily’s apartment rattled.
Jack stiffened and moved to stand between Emily and whoever was trying to get in.
“What’s happening?” Ace’s voice reminded Jack he still had his cell phone in his hand, and it wasn’t much of a weapon.
“Someone is trying to get into Emily’s apartment,” Jack said softly.
Emily grabbed one of a pair of heavy candlesticks from an end table and handed it to Jack. She took the other.
Jack hurried toward the door. If he could reach it before the intruder crashed through, he could use the element of surprise to smash the candlestick over his head.
He didn’t make it to the door before it swung open easily.
Jack rushed toward the intruder with the candlestick raised above his head.
“Jack, no!” Emily yelled.
The man in the doorway raised his hands to ward off the blow.
Jack slid to a stop, his weapon still held high.
“Don’t hurt that man,” Emily called out, her voice sounding choked. “Don’t hurt him. That’s my father.”
As Jack slowly lowered the candlestick, Emily rushed past him and into the arms of the man.
“Oh, my sweet, lass.” Seamus O’Brien stroked Emily’s hair as she sobbed against his chest. “I’m sorry I had to put you and your brother through so much.” The older man glanced over Emily’s head at Jack. “Thank you for looking out for my girl.”
Footsteps sounded on the landing behind Seamus.
Emily’s brother, Finn, helped his girlfriend Ciara into the apartment and closed the door behind them.
Emily stepped back and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Ciara, are you all right?”
Ciara had a wound on her forehead and a massive black eye, but she stood straight and nodded. “Finn instructed me to respond to any comments on my appearance with, You should see the other guy. ” She chuckled.
“Shouldn’t you still be in the hospital?” Emily asked.
Ciara shook her head. “They observed me for concussion and released me. I feel fine, other than the scuffs and bruises.”
Emily glanced between her brother and father and back to her brother. “You knew?”
Finn nodded. “Working on the wharf, I thought I saw him a couple of times.”
“Once I knew he’d seen me, I pulled him aside and let him know what was happening, but that I wouldn’t tell him where I was staying in case someone tried to force that out of him. I’m just sorry they found out I was still around and came after my family.”
Emily turned to her father and hugged him again. “I’m just happy you’re here and alive.”
Finn joined in on the hug.
The joy on Emily’s face warmed Jack’s heart. He was glad her family was together and safe, for the moment.
“Jack,” Ace’s voice sounded from the cell phone Jack held in his hand. “What’s going on?”
“This.” Jack brought the phone up and turned it so that Ace and Lucie could see who’d come through the door. “Ace Hammerson, this is Seamus O’Brien, his son Finn and his friend Ciara Thomas.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. O’Brien,” Ace said. “Peter Atkins has nothing but good things to say about you and the work you’ve done as an informant for J2.”
“Pete and I go back a ways. We met in a pub in Dingle during our younger days and bonded over a few pints and a fist fight. Kept in touch ever since. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t answered his cell phone in the middle of the night a week ago. At that point, I wasn’t sure who I could trust with the information I’d discovered. Thank you and the Brotherhood Protectors for your help.”
“That’s what we do,” Ace said.
“So Pete told me.” Seamus nodded toward Emily and Finn. “I’d hoped that my death would protect my family, and it did, for a while. I was able to move about the city in the shadows, gathering information. I knew something wasn’t right with the attacks, but it took my boy, Finn, taking out one of them to learn they were hired killers. That’s when everything started falling into place, and I was able to locate the warehouse, the weapons movement and more.”
“What now?” Emily said. “We know the attacks were made by mercenaries. How do we tell both sides the truth? They’re so angry and out for blood. They won’t listen.”
Her father nodded, his mouth set in a firm line. “We need access to the microphones and speakers.”
“Just because you tell them the truth, doesn’t mean they’ll believe you,” Emily argued. “We have to get Cormac to admit to everything he’s done to start this war. He needs to do it in public—at the rally.”
Seamus’s brow dipped. “We’d have to get to him before the rally to let him know we have proof.”
“Even if you show him the proof, why would he get up in front of all those people and confess to being behind all this?” Emily shook her head. “And that might only appease the Radical Nationals. The Travellers owe Faherty nothing. As far as they’re concerned, Cormac is a Nationalist. He’s the same to them as the Radicals.”
“Then we confront Faherty on stage with the proof. We take the leader of the Travellers with us to address his people at the same time,” Seamus said.
Emily shook her head. “The mercenaries murdered the leader of the Travellers last night.”
Seamus’s eyes widened. “They killed Tristan Doyle? Mary, mother of god.” His eyes filled. He brushed away a single tear and straightened. “If not Tristan, then who?”
“What about Rory Gallagher?” Finn asked.
Emily frowned. “He’s a hothead, ready to jump into a fight.”
“He’s been recruiting young Travellers to fight, yes, but only because they’ve pushed all the Travellers into a corner.” Finn stood taller. “I’ve been working with him on the wharf. Rory’s not a bad guy. He’s just defending his people and way of life.”
“Actually, that might work,” Jack said. “His recruits will listen to him. We just have to convince him that the Nationals didn’t start this fight. If they start killing each other, it’s only going to make things worse and play right into Faherty’s plan. So far, the attacks and murders have been at the hands of the mercenaries. We want to keep it that way. And if possible, catch them in the act of sabotage.” Jack met Finn’s gaze. “Do you know where we can find Rory before they gather for the rally?”
Finn nodded. “I have a good idea where he might be.”
“What about the explosives?” Emily asked. “They could have set them around the site where the rally will take place.”
Seamus’s lips spread in a grin. “While I was in the warehouse taking photos, I disabled the detonators.” His grin faded. “I didn’t want them using explosives on anyone. I saw what it did to my car. If I’d been in it at the time...”
Emily touched her father’s arm. “I’m glad you weren’t.”
“It’s good to be back home with the people I love. I hear your Uncle Paddy is doing well. I was worried when I heard about the attack.”
“He’s alive, kicking and cranky,” Emily said with a smile.
Her father laughed. “Sounds like a normal day with Paddy.” He looked around at the people gathered. “I’ll touch base with my contact at J2 and let them know what’s coming. They might want to have agents in place or need to coordinate with the Garda’s efforts.”
“Jack,” Ace’s voice drew Jack’s attention away from Emily’s family reunion.
“Yes, sir.” Jack stepped away from the family gathering and stared down at Ace’s image on his cell phone.
“I’ve already got backups in the air from Zurich and London. They should arrive at least two hours before the rally begins. Since the Night Shades’ efforts seem to have been concentrated on stirring up hatred among the opposing parties, they will likely be attending the rally, ready to initiate the fighting. I can pull Atkins from guard duty on Paddy O’Brien, as well. You can expect Fearghas, Dax, Giva and two of the newer members of the team, Dane Ryan, former Navy SEAL, and Callum McCall, Scottish SAS. They have your contact information and will let you know as soon as they touch down.”
“Roger. Good to know we have help heading our way,” Jack said. “Hopefully, we can stop the aggression before it gets started, and the backups won’t be needed.”
“If that’s the case, have a pint of Guinness on me at the Temple Bar.”
“Will do,” Jack said.
“Have you got anything else, Lucie?” Ace asked.
“Not yet.” Lucie’s face replaced Ace’s on Jack’s screen. “I’ll keep looking for the identity of the Flamethrower. Not that it will help at this point, since he’s achieved his purpose of stirring up the opposing factions. The rally seems to be the culmination. Good luck.”
“Out here.” Ace ended the call.
Emily slipped her hand through the crook of Jack’s elbow. “Getting reinforcements from your team?”
Jack nodded, pocketed his phone and covered Emily’s hand with his. He liked the feel of Emily standing next to him.
She sighed and leaned her cheek against his arm. “Seems like a drop in the bucket. How can so few stop so many from starting a war?”
“It seems insurmountable, yet we can’t stand by and let one individual manipulate these people into something no one wants.”
“Exactly.” Emily smiled at her father and brother, deep in conversation. “Do you think they’ll get Rory to go along with the plan to confront Cormac Faherty?”
Jack’s lips quirked. “If your father and brother are anything like you, they will convince him to do the right thing. You care about your community, and you want them to live in peace.”
“I hope that caring is enough to stop the insanity.” Emily looked up at him. “And when the rally is behind us, I hope we can see each other again.”
His hand tightened over hers. “I hope so, too. As much as we promised no expectations past the one night, no strings and no promises, I’m not sure I can agree to all that.”
Emily looked up and met his gaze, her lips lifting on the corners. “I’m glad you said that, because I was thinking the same. I’d like you to call me, to share a meal and...” she glanced at her father and brother, “well... you know.”
Jack slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “To be clear,” he said. “If I ask you out, you might say yes?”
She shook her head.
Jack frowned down at her.
Emily’s eyes danced with mischief. “There’s no ‘might’ about it. I absolutely would say yes.”
“Emily O’Brien, will you go out with me?”
She stared up into his eyes. “Yes. I’d like that very much.”
Jack’s heart swelled in such a way that he hadn’t felt since Laura’s death. It scared him, but not as much as it made him feel more alive than ever.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. “What do you say we stop a war and get on with life?”