by Bryan Murray
“This is my nephew Tim,” Dennis began. “You bring the cash?”
Jake Sr. nodded. “Of course, hi, Tim,” he began. “Did your uncle tell you what I need?”
The boy nodded, looking round furtively. He pulled his laptop out of his carrying bag and switched it on. “Yes, sir, you want an address for a credit card, right?”
Jake Sr. nodded.
“Piece of cake,” Tim replied. “You got the details?”
The old man passed him a copy of the receipt while the youth was already warming up the computer. He sat down on a gravestone, his laptop on his knee and his fingers flew over the keys at lightning speed. It took about 5 minutes as Jake Sr. looked on in admiration of the kid’s talent.
Finally, Tim looked up, a smile on his face. “You got the money, mister?”
Jake Sr. handed him the money and the boy swung the screen round so that he could see the information. Miraculously, there on the screen clearly displayed was the name, card number and a street address. It was Thirty Monkton Lane, Stroud. Gloucestershire.
Jake Sr. made a quick note of the address, thanked Dennis and his nephew and hurried out of the churchyard down the road. He looked back over his shoulder towards the church, a determined look in his eyes. “This is for you, Edith!” he sighed as he continued on down the road.
CHAPTER 18
Just like it had been the previous night in the Cherry Tree Pub, the bar in the Dog and Duck Pub was equally busy as Jake Sr. was nursing his pint of Guinness, sitting in the tap room expectantly around 9 o’clock, having talked himself into another game of dominoes. His tail from MI5 had given up and left and Jake Sr. had bought Jeff the bartender a drink, telling him he would be getting a call.
The phone rang and after checking who the caller wished to speak to, Jeff passed the phone to Jake Sr.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Gramps, how are things?”
Jake Sr. almost had a smile on his face. “Things could be looking up, son.” he replied
“What happened?” Jake inquired and his grandfather quickly filled him in on the story of the man with the long white hair and how he had managed to get an address with the help of a fifteen-year-old computer nerd. He gave Jake the address and Jake scribbled it down.
Jake was amazed. “That’s excellent, Gramps, so, we’ll be paying this bastard a friendly visit!”
Jake Sr. cautioned him. “Be careful, son, he could be legit, so set your trap carefully before you do anything drastic.”
Jake was in agreement. “Once I know he is the guy who killed Nan, he’s gonna tell me who hired him before he dies!” Jake sounded determined as the old man smiled wistfully. “Right, son, and if he is the one, make the bastard suffer for me!”
“Don’t worry, Gramps, he will, gotta go, love you.”
“You too, Jake,” the old man replied. “I’ll be back at the Cherry Tree tomorrow night same time if you need me.”
“Thanks, bye.” Jake rang off.
* * *
Back in the car, Jake gave Sarah the latest news from Jake Sr. and they were discussing tactics. Sarah was studying the map they had taken from Jake Senior’s car and they already had the GPS hooked in to get the route options and distance to the address in Stroud.
Sarah was jotting down notes. “According to the GPS we’re about 80 miles from Stroud which on these roads would be around a couple of hours, so, what’s the game plan?”
Jake thought a moment. “I think we should make it as close as we can tonight and then hole up somewhere out of sight for another luxurious night in the car and then be ready to go after this bastard in the morning.”
She nodded in agreement. “And what about the car?”
“By then, this beamer will have outlived its usefulness, so we’ll look for a change.”
She smiled. “Isn’t this what they call compounding a felony?”
He looked at her and smiled. “I don’t know what they call it, but I call it survival!”
“You got my vote,” she added. “So, what do we do when we find this guy?”
Jake thought for a moment. “Well, first of all, I hope he’s a single guy, because if he’s the one who killed Nan, he’s gonna die after he tells me who hired him.”
She was in agreement with his logic. “And what if he doesn’t want to talk?”
Jake had a vindictive look in his eye. “Oh, he’ll talk, believe me,” he was suddenly pensive. “Question is, how do we approach him?”
She nodded. “Same thought occurred to me. I mean we can’t just walk up to him in broad daylight, because our faces are all over the media, he’s bound to recognize us immediately and make a run for it.”
“Correct,” Jake was still thinking out loud. “Perhaps now we have a name and address we can get a phone number and give him a call, see who answers, they won’t recognize either of our voices.”
Sarah was thinking a little more clearly. “That could scare him off before we get our hands on him. Maybe we could snatch him, scare him to death by telling him he was sold out by the people who hired him for the Cheltenham job and see if he breaks?”
“And if he doesn’t?” Jake asked.
“Then we start a finger at a time until we’re sure he’s not our man!”
Jake smiled. “Remind me never to piss you off, okay?”
“So, are we agreed?” she asked.
“Yes, I snatch him if I have to and work on him.”
“Great, we’d better hit the road, find somewhere to sleep, I’m hungry, exhausted, need a shower and some sleep in that order.”
He grinned. “Well, would you settle for some fresh, mouth-watering snacks from a five star vending machine and the luxury of spreading out in the back seat?”
She grimaced. “Will this life of luxury never end?”
They drove off into the enveloping safety of the night.
* * *
The next morning, Jake and Sarah were up early and after they got out of the car to stretch the creaks out of their bones, they finished the last of their snacks and headed for the local restrooms in the small town square, near where they had parked discreetly out of sight the night before.
They got back inside the car, switched on the GPS and also the radio to find that there was another nasty surprise waiting for the two of them. It was the story of the bank robbery that was all over the media with Jake now implicated in that as well as the assassination attempt on the Queen. Apparently the robber had stolen over sixty thousand pounds from a small bank just outside Cheltenham.
Jake and Sarah were in total shock. However, it was the latter part of the radio broadcast on the bank robbery that caught Jake’s attention, when it was mentioned that another accomplice at the bank robbery had now been identified from CCTV tapes. The accomplice was named as Mickey Hennessey, a known RIRA terrorist.
Jake spotted a newspaper vending machine in the town square and he quickly jumped out of the car and bought a copy of the newspaper with the picture of Mickey Hennessey on the front page under the heading that read ‘RIRA now involved in bank robbery with Wanted Assassin’. He quickly got back in the car and showed it to Sarah.
Jake and Sarah were now totally confused. “So,” Jake began. “Whoever is going around looking like me is working with the damned RIRA!”
“RIRA?” Sarah asked.
“A real bunch of bad ass terrorists,” Jake explained. “Motivated to end British rule in Northern Ireland!”
Once again, Sarah’s clinical mind kicked in as she scratched her head thoughtfully. “So, presumably this guy we’re going to flush out in Stroud, was hired to kill your grandmother, just to get you over here, so that some guy wearing a look-alike mask of you, working with the RIRA, could try and assassinate the Queen, making sure he was spotted as you, so that the world’s media and the authorities would have seen your face as the villain and be chasing you on British soil?”
“Exactly!” he replied.
“Well, my love,” Sarah continued. “For someone to go to
all that trouble, you must have done something totally unspeakable to piss them off that much!”
“I agree, Sarah, but what and when?” he answered. “Jeez, this is the first time I’ve even been over here in many years and the last time it was only on vacation!”
“There has to be something here that we are totally missing.” Sarah added.
“You got that right!” Jake sighed.
CHAPTER 19
Jake and Sarah would have been even more concerned if they had seen the line waiting in immigration at Heathrow from the flight that had just landed from Washington DC.
The clean-cut, attractive, young American couple stood in line, their false passports stating that they were Mr. and Mrs. John Fitzgerald. They had told the immigration officer that they were from Nebraska, over in England for a two week vacation. In reality they were Steve Bessemer, tall, blond in his thirties and Jane Oxley, dark-haired, slim and attractive, two of the deadliest CIA ‘black-ops’ assassins on the payroll of Senior Agent Decker!
Both of them were known to Jake, hence their final briefing by Decker who had told them that under no circumstances should Harrigan even suspect that they could be on his tail. If he did, they needed to abort immediately.
They moved swiftly through immigration and picked up their red VW Passat rental car before meeting up with their UK contacts for a full briefing on what had happened so far, since the unsuccessful British security forces had still been unable to apprehend Jake and Sarah.
At this stage, even the CIA had no idea that it was not Jake who had carried out the unsuccessful assassination attempt on the Queen or pulled off the bank robbery. Consequently, Steve and Jane, following their briefing, decided to head for the area where Jake was reportedly last seen, the scene of the bank robbery. This at least was a cold trail that would buy some additional time for Jake and Sarah.
* * *
After parking the stolen BMW in an inconspicuous corner of a hotel parking lot near Stroud, it took Jake only seconds to find a recent model Audi that the owner had forgotten to lock and after hot wring the vehicle, he and Sarah were already heading along the M4 Motorway into Stroud with Jake Senior’s GPS hooked up in the stolen car as they got closer to the address of Damien Flanagan.
They had actually found a fast food place with a drive-thru so that they were not easily recognized and they were now hungrily munching on a breakfast sandwich and coffee as Jake drove along, still watching carefully for roadblocks. With their trail getting increasingly colder for the frustrated MI5 operatives, the roadblocks were being strategically reduced, although Jake, assisted by the GPS, did avoid one along the way.
* * *
In the safe house near Cheltenham, Quinn was not a happy camper. They were watching the morning news on TV when they saw Mickey’s face plastered all over the headlines as an accomplice at the bank robbery. His known connections to the RIRA, mentioned in the newscast, was already embarrassing the Army Council back in Belfast.
Quinn looked at Mickey. “For Christ’s sakes, Mickey, it was only me dat was supposed to be on the CCTV not you and now we’re all blown. De guys in Belfast will be spittin’ feathers, dey’ll be so pissed!”
Mickey looked concerned. “I stayed way back near de door. So, what do we do, Sean?”
Quinn thought for a moment. “We need to get de escape boat at de same spot near St. Bride’s Bay tonight. We needs to get our arse back to Belfast quickly. Make de call!”
“Will do.” Mickey replied.
* * *
Back in Belfast, the Army Council of the RIRA were back in conference and as usual, their topic of conversation was Sean Quinn.
“I just knew it!” Brady fumed. “That idiot Quinn has our name on the front page again and for all the wrong fuckin’ reasons!”
Tim O’Brien, the Operations Director was in agreement. “Right, Seamus and that cretin Mickey is too stupid to tie his shoes, gettin’ caught on the bank CCTV!”
Brady was trying to think about damage control. “Well, so far this guy Harrigan is still the target for the attempt on the Queen and the bank job is also down to Harrigan, but now with the additional connections to us, thanks to that moron Hennessey! What do you think, Tim?”
O’Brien thought for a moment. “It’s not a total train smash, Seamus,” he began. “An’ if Quinn tops up the coffers on what he spent with cash from the bank job, it’s just another day for us bad ass RIRA boyos!”
Brady nodded. “I suppose so, but what the hell are we gonna do about Quinn?” he asked.
“Lemme think about it, Seamus an’ we’ll talk again, because it’s not just Quinn, it’s his entire stupid, moronic team that bothers me!”
CHAPTER 20
Jake and Sarah approached the outskirts of Stroud and he was relieved to see that the stolen white Audi they were now driving had almost a full tank of gas.
The GPS was telling him he was about 10 miles from the required exit when once again, the GPS flagged a traffic jam ahead, just in time for them to exit quickly without any hindrance as the GPS then proceeded to direct them through the back roads until they came to the road outside a small village where Flanagan’s house was located.
They parked about thirty yards down the street from the house as Jake got his bearings from the surrounding neighborhood. It was a semi-rural setting and Flanagan’s home was a small detached cottage with a fence out front. There were no other houses within fifty yards of either side of Flanagan’s home and there was an open field on the opposite side of the road.
Jake turned to Sarah. “Of course there’s a good chance that this isn’t our guy.”
She nodded. “Yes, and if he isn’t, we can always apologize and move on. It’s a lot better than doing nothing.”
He gave a wry smile. “Believe me, Sarah, if this is the guy who killed my grandmother, he has only minutes to live!”
“Okay, let’s do it.” she replied.
Jake checked his weapon and turned to Sarah. “Okay, you stay here, be ready for a quick getaway. Whatever goes down in there, you can always say you had no idea what went on.”
“But...” she began
“But nothing,” Jake replied. “Just pray he has no family in there!”
She nodded resignedly. “Good luck!”
He looked in the back seat of the Audi where the owner had left a golf jacket and cap. Jake put on the jacket, tucked the gun in his waistband and pulled the cap down to partly hide his face. “I’m gonna play this one by the seat of my pants, so bear with me.”
He gave a grim smile as he got out of the car and casually walked the twenty yards or so to the front of the house. He opened the gate and walked up the path to the front door.
His eyes were darting everywhere as he approached the door. There were no signs of kid’s toys in the garden, which looked somewhat overgrown. There was a rickety old shed at the side of the house that looked like it hadn’t been used in a long time.
Most encouraging of all, there was a reasonably new Ford car parked outside the shed and as Jake got closer to the front door, he checked that he had not been observed from behind moving curtains as he rang the doorbell.
The door opened and Damien Flanagan was standing there, long white hair and a weather-beaten face, a man in his early fifties. “Yeah?” he asked.
“Mr. Flanagan?” Jake asked, a smile on his face.
“Who’s askin?” Flanagan replied.
Jake continued to smile. “I was recommended to talk to you about using your services.”
As the small talk continued, Jake had been absorbing the state of the house over Flanagan’s shoulder. The untidiness, clothes on the floor, empty beer bottles amid pizza boxes on the table, had bachelor pad written all over it. Jake added quickly. “I’m prepared to pay you a lot of money!”
Flanagan was now looking at him more closely, now that money had been mentioned. “Pay me to do what?” he asked, still keeping Jake standing on the doorstep. Suddenly, his face changed as he recognized J
ake’s face from the TV and newspapers. He started to try and close the door, but Jake was ready for him, pushing him back, his gun miraculously in his hand, He pushed Flanagan further inside and closed the door behind him.
Flanagan was now concerned as Jake stayed totally calm, his gun pointing unwaveringly at Flanagan’s heart.
“Take it easy,” Jake began. “I was told that you may be able to help me,” he pointed to the gun in his hand. “Sorry about the gun, but as you can see, I’m not exactly the most popular man in the country right now.”
Flanagan was trying to size up the situation, cursing himself that he had left his weapon in the bedroom under the pillow. He decided to humor the intruder. “So, who told you I may be able to help you?” he inquired.
Jake was ready for him. “The guy who used you for the graveyard job in Cheltenham. He said you did a great job, very professional.”
It was then that Flanagan made the mistake that was about to end his life as he replied. “Yeah, be nice if the bastard actually paid me!” he snarled.
Bingo! Jake had his man. He continued as if he was still ready to hire Flanagan. “Which of the guys were you dealing with, Was it the top man?”
Flanagan nodded negatively. ‘I don’t think so, his name was Mickey, that’s all I know, ten grand and I need my fuckin’ money!” he snarled.
Jake continued to bait Flanagan. “I don’t blame you, have you tried talkin’ to Mickey’s boss?”
Flanagan nodded negatively. “Never even got close! How about you?”
Jake gave a wry smile. “Not really!”
Flanagan suddenly realized that he was the one answering all the questions. “You said I was recommended to you and you don’t even know who Mickey’s boss is?”
Jake suddenly raised his gun, pointing it unwaveringly at the Irishman’s head. He gave a venomous smile. “You know what, I lied!”
Flanagan was confused. “Whaddya mean? So you don’t know Mickey’s boss either?”
Jake was now ready to do what had to be done. “No, I had a different role in that entire affair.”
“Different role?” Flanagan was now starting to sweat.