23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Finn
W hen we arrive at the farmhouse in the rolling hills of west of Cork, we’re greeted by two cattle dogs and a six-foot-tall bear of a man with a shotgun.
“You Francois?” I put my hands up.
Lorcan, beside me, also has his hands raised. We’ve both got a gun at the small of our back. “Pierre-Jacques sent us,” he offers.
The man lowers his gun and whistles for the dogs. “Damned PLA,” the man grumbles as he motions for us to follow him. We keep our distance as he leads us to one of the barns behind the house. Fan-fucking-tastic. The PLA lives in a barn. My hopes for something better than a seventies mansion are fading fast.
When we get to the door, I eye my brother. We haven’t discussed a strategy for the first meeting, but since we don’t know who is in the barn other than Francois, sending Lorcan in blind is idiotic. Northern Ireland is generally safe from recognition. We didn’t spend much time there in our youth. But the south? We ran around here like a playground while we went to school.
“You stay here. Watch my back.”
Lorcan nods and leans against the side of the barn.
“He’s not going in?” the bear of a man asks in a thick accent.
“Just me.” I motion to the door. “Do you need to tell him I’m coming or anything?”
“Doubt it,” the man says. “Just Francois in there, hiding out. My brother is a useless tit who thinks you all can give him more than an honest day’s work.”
A smile plays at the edges of my lips. He tells it like it is. I’ve got no problems with that. “He’s your brother, and he’s named Francois?” I arch my brows.
“Changed his name. The twat. That woman of Pierre-Jacques’s gifted him the new poncey moniker.”
“It’s just him in there?” The realization I’m not walking into a substantial crew hits me between the eyes. Lorcan’s plan depended on more than the three of us.
“Aye.” He snaps his fingers for the dogs and heads toward the farmhouse.
“It’s still too risky for you,” I say to Lorcan.
“You don’t know everyone I used to know.” He scratches the back of his head. “You could call me in there, and I’ll recognize him, anyway. Least if I go in, we’ll realize straight away what we’re dealing with.”
I scuff my feet in the gravel outside the entrance and squint into the fading light. Can’t disagree with his logic, even when I don’t like it. I unlatch the door and step into the barn.
“Francois?” I call out, surprised at how clean and modern the place is. From the outside, it looks like a wooden barn, but inside it’s renovated in neutral tones with wood-and-steel accents. Much nicer than the mansion up north.
“Up here,” he responds from the loft space. “Be there in a tic. You Finn?”
We’re going to need to talk about security. While his bear of a brother might be menacing, he gave up Francois without mounting any defense or question. “Yeah,” I respond. “The one and only.”
He lilts down the stairs, tucking a wallet into his front pocket. “Right, we have ta be at the pub in the next ten minutes.”
“The pub?” I scan him as he rushes from the bottom toward us. Has to be in his twenties. Too young to have been friendly with either me or my brother.
“Right, yeah. That’s where the crew is. Dish out the assignments. We’ve got a week, yeah?” He eyes me. “You’re older than I expected, mate.”
“You don’t have Google?” I give him a mild look and tip my head at Lorcan. “This is Lachlan.”
He shakes Lorcan’s hand and then leads the way to our PLA car. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but we’ve got about twenty lads lined up.”
“All trustworthy?” I frown as Lorcan slides into the driver’s seat.
“All hungry for money. Best kind of loyalty.” He takes out a cigarette and lights it in the back seat. “Finn? Lachlan?” He offers the pack to us.
It’s times like this when I start to feel each of my forty-one years. Did I smoke in my twenties? Sure. Now? Not a chance. I got enough things that might kill me, no need adding to the list. “Nah.” I wave him off. “We’re good.”
Francois cracks a window and blows the smoke out as we drive. “You’ve got the plan, yeah?”
I tap my temple. “In here. Are the lads around your age?”
“Yeah. They’re my mates from school.” He grins.
How in the hell is the PLA an organization worth the CIA’s time when it’s run by a bunch of twenty-year-olds who don’t have a clue?
“Did you meet Jade?” he asks. “She’s fit, ain’t she?”
I smirk. If he thinks Jade’s attractive, Carys would blow his young mind. “Does Pierre-Jacques realize you’ve got a thing for his girlfriend?”
Francois chuckles. “I reckon she likes to be wanted. Prancing around in her tiny outfits, flirting with the lads.”
Lorcan and I exchange a glance up front. Not the impression she gave us. At every turn, she’s got a new face. “She’s a flirt, is she?”
“Vindictive tart is more like.” He laughs. “I reckon that’s why we’re after the McCaffrey family. She used to run with them when she was younger.”
“Oh.” It’s the first word he’s uttered since his introduction. “Was she shagging one of the McCaffrey boys?”
“Not from what I heard.” He shakes his head. “Wanted to, I’m sure. I reckon she’s like that.” He taps ash out the window.
I let out a grunt. Much better when idiots ramble with the information I want rather than having to drag it out of them. He hasn’t realized he shouldn’t be chummy with us yet, which suits me fine. Maybe the fact he isn’t privy to my reputation will work in my favor. “So, what? She hung out with them?”
“Don’t know, exactly.” He flicks the butt of his cigarette out the window before rolling it up. “Just heard she used to run with them. Was a long time ago, mate.”
Does that explain the familiar feeling I have whenever I look at Jade? Was she in the background when we were younger, toying with the McCaffrey boys? If that’s the case, does she know me better than I think? Does she recognize Lorcan? My blood cools and then runs hot.
“We need to talk,” I mutter to Lorcan.
“Agreed.” He catches Francois’s attention in the rearview mirror. “Whereabouts are we headed?”
“Ah, right. Sorry. Left here. Pub’s on the right. I’ve secured you a room above the pub. Nothing fancy, but better than sleeping on my settee.”
At the pub, Francois walks ahead of us, and I mutter, “Does Jade know us?”
“Not a clue,” Lorcan says. “Her personality is giving me whiplash. There’s an agenda hidden under these layers.”
“What, though?” I rub the back of my neck. “I’ll get in touch with Jay.”
“I’ll tell Kim they should be on high alert. Jade can’t be trusted.”
For the next six days, Lorcan and I systematically take down each of the McCaffrey business interests. Dare I say it? It’s kinda fun. Being here is not without its frustrations. My inability to talk to Carys is a thorn in my side. Whenever we schedule a call, she gets waylaid by Pierre-Jacques or Jade and can’t get outside to answer. If I phone out of the blue, she’s having tea with Jade or in the middle of a video chat with Lucas or doesn’t pick up at all. Texting or emailing her any of the information we found out about Jade is risky given the amount of time they’re spending together. An unlocked phone is a gift.
Other than the constant queasiness in my stomach, I don’t have any proof Jade’s the devil in disguise. But it doesn’t seem right for a woman to wear so many faces or be so adept at adjusting to her audience. Young boys? The flirt. Pierre-Jacques? The obedient girlfriend. Lunch with new contacts? The cougar. Tea with Carys? The lonely, abused woman. Carys says women wear different faces all the time, especially if they feel threatened in a man’s world. I suppose that’s true of some women. I’m not convinced that’s Jade’s reality.
“We got him.” Lorcan gestures to his phone from the bar where he was ordering us dinner. “Francois called. Sieged the house. They’ve got Donal waiting for us.”
I could have had one of the boys Francois recruited kill Donal or ordered Francois to do it himself. But I have questions I need answered before I’m going for the jugular. “Are you coming?” I rise from the table we’ve used as command central in the far corner of the pub.
Lorcan grimaces as he wanders closer. “Don’t think I should. If they brought him here, maybe. Too many eyes might see something we don’t want if I go there.”
Like the fact Lorcan Donaghey is still very much alive. Keeping him here coordinating Francois’s lads has worked out well. Lorcan could be a central part of the action while meeting very few people. This pub is sleepy and on the edge of a village outside Cork. Not many in or out of the place. To the lads, I was the public face of the operation, going wherever another pair of hands was needed. My brother was the brains and the steady calm in the storm I raged. By the end of the week, most of the men knew if they wanted courage to do a difficult job, they came to me. If they wanted strategy then they went to my brother.
“We’ve come this far,” I agree. “No point in screwing it up now.” I squint at Lorcan. “You think he was serious about the head?”
He nods slowly. “Unfortunately, the only way to be sure is to take it.” He runs a hand along his neck. “If he meant it, you’ve done well. If he didn’t mean it, the fact you were willing to do it sends a pretty strong message.” He stares at me for a beat. “Not sure this needs to be said, but I’ll say it anyway. Shoot him dead before you chop off his head.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, striding to the front entrance. “Mercy and all that shit.”
When I arrive at the country property, Francois meets me at the iron gates. He climbs into the passenger seat for the drive up the laneway.
“Where’s Lachlan?” Francois asks.
“Left him at the pub in case anything comes up.”
He seems lost in thought for a minute. “The two of you have this…” He purses his lips. “Slick system, as though you’ve worked together for years.”
“Sometimes you get lucky and gel with someone.” I shrug. “Doesn’t happen that often.”
He points to the side of the massive house. “Around the rear. In the barn. Didn’t want to make a mess in the house. We’ve got McCaffrey’s men, the ones still alive, digging a grave for the others, cleaning up any trouble.”
We do not need the authorities sniffing here, looking for people. “You don’t do a mass grave. You need an incinerator. When families ask questions and you’ve got no answers, they’re gonna search this property.”
“Won’t be our problem,” Francois says. “We don’t want the land. Just the men and other assets.”
I let out an annoyed sigh. The bodies aren’t my problem either. Lorcan’s been in touch with the CIA since we started this mission, and while they aren’t thrilled with our methods, they’re more concerned about what comes next. The McCaffreys isn’t where the plan stops.
I park the car and follow Francois to the barn door. The structure is newer and smells of hay. Cattle mill around in the pasture, but the swinging doors are closed, keeping them out of the way.
When we enter, Donal is tied to a chair, beaten and bloody. Someone worked out their frustrations while we were gone. Dirt, hay, and blood are mixed together on the surrounding floor.
“Leave us,” I say, and his good eye cracks open.
“Finn,” he mutters. “’Twas you?”
“PLA.” No need to hide the source of his demise since he won’t be around to speak to anyone. Everyone but Francois files out of the barn. Guess he thought my order didn’t apply to him.
“You’re workin’ for them now?” Donal asks.
“In a way.” I shrug and remove my gun from the small of my back. “You can leave too,” I say to Francois.
“Lachlan isn’t here. I’ve been told to make sure you’re kept in line.” He leans against the barn wall and takes an apple out of his pocket and bites into it. The crunch sets my teeth on edge.
I rotate and fire my gun at him. The bullet grazes his upper arm and lodges in the wood.
“What the bloody hell?” Francois’s free hand covers the spot where blood trickles out of the hole in his shirt. “What was that for?”
“’Cause if the PLA thinks you’re keeping me in line, they got another think coming. I said out, and I meant get the fuck out. That was a warning shot.”
He pushes off the wall, cradling his upper arm with his hand, and he leaves without further comment. He finally did an internet search on me midweek. I enjoyed watching the color drain from his face while he read my list of crimes.
“Fucking women,” Donal says as soon as Francois is gone.
“I know he looks like a pansy, but he’s actually a man.” I cock my head. “Well, boy, really.” I let my gun hang at my side, and I turn to Donal.
“Not who I meant. PJ’s sex toy.”
“Jade?” I thought I’d have to bring her up to milk him for information. A stroke of luck or a bad omen?
“Is that what she’s calling herself now?” Donal glares at me. “You’re the reason she’s got her knickers in a twist.”
“I’d remember if I twisted her knickers.” I smirk. Not that my list of women is short, but I can’t imagine that’s how I recognize Jade.
“You murdered her boyfriend about… What’d it be now? Almost twenty years ago?”
I narrow my eyes. He has to be talking about when Carys was stabbed. When I tracked down each of the men from the bar brawl, a few of them claimed Paddy’s girlfriend had been with him at the pub. I found him last. He begged me for his life on his knees in his apartment. After I shot him, there was no trace of a woman. Hunting her hadn’t been worth my time when Carys was in the hospital. Looks like mercy might bite me in the ass. Again .
“Paddy?”
“Aye. She came wailing to me about wantin’ retribution for Paddy’s death. We put a bounty on yer head. But you were gone by then. Back to America. Daddy swept in.” His tone is mocking. Admirable, given that I’m about to shoot him between the eyes and cut off his head. I’m quite fond of men who don’t know when to show their belly.
“You’re lucky he did. You would’ve lost a whole lot more men trying to take me down.” I wave my gun. “Why would this takeover have anything to do with her?”
“She reckoned I didn’t do enough to avenge his death. Said one day she’d have more power than me. This is her flex, ain’t it?”
If her pursuit of the McCaffreys is for revenge, why is she having me deliver it? There’s a knock on the door, and Francois calls, “Have you lopped off his head yet?”
Donal pales. “My head?”
“In a box. Suppose it’s a lover’s gift from Pierre-Jacques to his sex toy. I don’t find it sexy, but she must. Fetishes. No accounting for them.” I raise my gun. “Don’t worry, I’m going to kill you first.”
“Wait, wait,” he cries. “Can’t—”
I fire my weapon, and Donal’s chin slumps to his chest, blood trickling out of the bullet wound in his forehead, spatter on the barn wall behind him. My mind drums with this new information. Is Jade after me? She could have tried to kill me a number of times already. They could have executed me on the roof of the prison.
What’s her game?
Is she really the person in charge of the PLA?