The Devil's Due: An Irish Historical Thriller

by L. D Beyer

  Cumann na mBan – The Cumann na mBan (the Cumann or Irish Women’s League) was an Irish republican women’s paramilitary organization formed in 1914. They operated as an auxiliary of the Irish Volunteers and, later, the IRA.

  Easter Rising – An armed rebellion in Dublin led by Irish Volunteers to declare independence from Britain. The Rising began on Monday, the day after Easter, April 24, 1916. Although Britain was caught off guard, after five days of heavy fighting, they succeeded in squashing the insurrection. Over 450 people were killed and 2,500 wounded. Irish opinion and support for the independence movement surged after Britain’s swift arrest and execution of the Rising’s leaders.

  Fenians – Fenian was a universal term for the Fenian Brotherhood—a U.S.-based organization sympathetic to the Irish cause that provided financial and moral support—and the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB), which operated in Ireland.

  Free State Forces – Following the signing of the Treaty with Great Britain in December 1921, ending the War for Independence, the IRA split between supporters and opponents of the Treaty. The Treaty resulted in the partition of Ireland with the twenty-six counties in the south and west forming the new Free State, while the six counties in the north—most of Ulster—remained part of Great Britain. The Anti-Treaty faction of the IRA did not support the Treaty and, within months of its signing, went to war against their former comrades, who had sided with the Free State.

  Gaelic League – A social and cultural organization that promoted Irish culture, heritage, and the revival of the Irish language, in defiance of British attempts to eradicate a separate Irish identity.

  Irish Citizen’s Army – The Irish Citizen’s Army (the ICA or the Citizen’s Army) were volunteers from the Irish Transport and General Workers’ Union established in Dublin to defend protesting workers from the heavy-handed tactics of the RIC. They assisted in the planning of the Easter Rising in Dublin in 1916.

  Irish Republican Army – The Irish Republican Army (the IRA) evolved from the Irish Volunteers, a group of nationalist-leaning rebels that had fought in the Easter Rising. The Rising’s leaders were quickly arrested and executed by Great Britain. Consequently, it took several years for the group to reform. When it did, it changed its name to the IRA.

  Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) – The Irish Republican Brotherhood (the IRB or the Brotherhood) was a secret oath-bound fraternal organization founded in 1858 and was dedicated to achieving independence from Great Britain. They helped establish the Irish Volunteers as a military organization. The IRB were the key architects of the Easter Rising.

  Irish Women’s League – See Cumann na mBan.

  Irish Volunteers – The Irish Volunteers (the Volunteers) was a military organization established in 1913 by Irish nationalists seeking independence from Great Britain. Membership swelled to 160,000 by 1914. They were the primary fighting force that took part in the Easter Rising in Dublin in 1916.

  Peelers – A nickname for the Royal Irish Constabulary (the RIC). The term Peeler was in reference to Sir Robert Peel, British statesman and former prime minister, who is considered the “father” of policing in Great Britain. Interestingly enough, the term Bobby, used to refer to constables in Great Britain, is also a reference to Peel.

  Royal Irish Constabulary – The Royal Irish Constabulary (the RIC) was the Irish police force. They were loyal to British rule, and their job was to maintain law and order in Ireland. They were referred to as Peelers by the IRA.

  Sínn Féin – Sínn Féin was a political party that sought to achieve independence through political means. In the 1918 United Kingdom general election, Sinn Fein won the majority of the seats, effectively representing Ireland in British parliament. Although operating independently, Sínn Féin did support the IRA during the War of Independence.

  Tans – See Black and Tans

  War for Independence – The Irish War of Independence, fought from January 1919 to July 1921, was a guerrilla conflict between Irish nationalists and British forces in Ireland. The war ended in a Treaty that effectively partitioned Ireland into north and south. The twenty-six counties in the south and west formed what today is known as Ireland or the Republic of Ireland, achieving independence from Britain. The six counties of the north remained below British rule. This partition, above all else, is what led to the civil war that followed.

  For a preview of The Deadliest of Sins, the next installment in the Matthew Richter Series, read on…

  The Deadliest of Sins

  New Delhi, India

  May 1992

  Thomas Braxton, III jumped at the noise, the sound sharp in the confined space, the loud crack seeming to bounce off the tiles, sucking the air out of his chest. The heavy wooden rolling pin spun once on the tile floor then rolled below the cabinet. He raised his now empty hand, his eyes wide as he stared at it, his fingers curled around the rolling pin they no longer held.

  What have I done?

  The young woman lay crumpled at his feet. She coughed several times—more of a gurgling, choking sound—then her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She shuddered for a moment then suddenly went still. His breath came in ragged gasps, and Thomas fought the sudden wave of panic. Head swimming, he reached behind him, searching for something to hold onto, to steady himself, before his hand finally found the countertop.

  What have I done?

  He closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to will away the nightmare. But when he opened them again, the grisly scene was still there, splayed out on the gray tile floor of the butler’s pantry. The floor appeared to have been dusted with flour, the ceramic storage canister lying in shards. The pool of blood grew before his eyes, spreading across the tiles, dark red-black tentacles stretching out in a geometric grid along the grout lines, leading the way for the advancing puddle that followed. It seeped around the broken pieces of ceramic until they looked like they were floating. It formed small piles of dark red sludge when it reached the flour.

  Thomas turned away, gagging, and barely reached the sink before he was sick. Hands on the countertop, head low as if he were prostrated in prayer, he sucked in mouthfuls of air. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten again, trying to slow his breathing, trying to will away the growing hollowness in his belly—that terrible feeling that threatened to consume him.

  After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted his head. He reached for the faucet and splashed water on his face. Unable to find a cloth, he raised the sleeve of his monogramed shirt to wipe his mouth. His arm jerked short at the sight of the dark red splatters that ran up his arm.

  What have I done?

  He took several deep breaths again. Think! he told himself. He could make this right. He had to make this right. He was a Braxton, damn it! Isn’t that what his father had told him time and time again? He could make things happen. He was better than the rest!

  He forced himself to turn and face what he had done. The girl’s arms and legs were splayed at odd angles, her brightly colored sari—ripped by his own hands—was now, like his own shirt, splattered with blood. He stared at her face, at the bindi, the bright red dot between her dark eyebrows. Once the only adornment on the girl’s face, now there was a series of red spots and smears that extended from her nose across one cheek and jaw then down her neck.

  Why did she have to fight?

  Her mouth was open slightly, as if she were moaning, and several strands of bloody hair were stuck to her face.

  Why didn’t she understand her place?

  He shook his head, chasing the thoughts away before the panic overtook him again. His mind raced as he debated what to do. After a moment, he awkwardly stepped across the girl’s body, careful not to touch her, careful to avoid the blood. He stared down at her face again, just for a moment, before he looked away.

  Christ! He couldn’t even remember her name!

  He shook his head and reached for the phone on the wall. Mechanically he punched in the extension.

  “Maloney,” he heard a
fter a click.

  He turned his back to the girl, took another breath, and lifted the receiver to his mouth.

  “It’s Thomas,” he said. “I, uhhh…there’s…” he stammered, then paused. “Something’s happened.” He paused again, not sure how to explain. Finally, he blurted, “I need help.”

  “Stay where you are,” he heard before the phone disconnected. He let out a breath, relieved at the sound of the crisp, efficient voice that would take care of everything. Just as it always had.

  He hung up the phone, leaned back against the wall, and shut his eyes. The overpowering stench of the girl’s released bowels suddenly filled the air. As if that weren’t bad enough, he smelled the acidic stink of his own vomit. He clasped his hand over his nose as the bile rose in his throat again. He took a few more breaths then tried breathing through his mouth, hoping that would help. Strangely, on top of the stink, he noticed a metallic coppery smell. Before he had time to figure out what that was, there was clatter of shoes on tile, and the door burst open. Gun held in two hands, Gene Maloney stopped on the threshold. His eyes darted around the room, taking only a moment to figure out the sequence of events that had led to the grisly scene before him.

  “Christ,” he muttered under his breath. He looked up at Thomas. “Are you hurt?”

  Thomas shook his head. Then it came to him. “It’s Anupa,” he blurted, suddenly remembering the girl’s name.

  “I know who she is,” Maloney snapped as he holstered his gun. “It was just you two?” Maloney asked as he carefully stepped into the pantry. “No one else?”

  Thomas shook his head. “No one else.” He opened and closed his mouth several times looking for words to explain what had happened. “I told her…” He paused. “I just wanted…”

  “I know what you wanted!” Maloney hissed, his eyes dark.

  Thomas shrank below Maloney’s glare. He leaned back against the wall and, with his face in his hands, stifled a sob. Maloney barked a series of orders into his radio. Thomas only half listened. There was little he could do. This was now in Maloney’s hands.

  “I need a cleanup team,” he heard Maloney say.

  Thomas dropped his hands. A cleanup team?

  “And you’d better wake Castle,” he added before he disconnected.

  Thomas felt the sudden hollowness in his belly again. “Hey, wait. You don’t need to wake him,” he said, suddenly standing straighter, trying to be the man his father kept telling him to be. “We can handle this.”

  “Not another word,” Maloney snapped, his finger pointing like a gun. His eyes scanned the room again, looking for anything he might have missed. They settled on the rolling pin sticking out from below the cabinet. “Is that it?” he asked.

  Thomas followed Maloney’s eyes. He looked up and offered a weak nod, knowing what Maloney was asking.

  Maloney pulled open several drawers, searching, before he found a dishtowel and a plastic garbage bag. He carefully stepped over the dead girl and picked up the pin with the dishtowel, dropping both into the bag.

  There was noise from the kitchen, and the door behind Maloney opened. Two more security officers stepped into the room. Like Maloney, their eyes quickly took in the scene. They exchanged a glance, then one opened the bag he was carrying and pulled out the things they would need. As they slipped on the white biohazard coveralls, gloves, and booties, Maloney explained what needed to be done. They nodded silently.

  Once they were suited up, they unfolded the body bag and laid it on the floor next to Anupa, careful to keep it out of the growing pool of blood. One at each end, the two men lifted the girl and gently—surprisingly so—placed her in the bag. Then they carefully folded her arms across her chest.

  Two more men entered the room. They too stopped to survey the scene before they looked at Maloney for instructions.

  “Get him cleaned up,” Maloney barked, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Thomas. “I want him on the next plane back to the States.” Maloney’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men. “One of you will need to go with him.”

  One of the men—Romano? Thomas could never remember his name—slipped on a pair of latex gloves then stepped around the two men in white suits. They were now on their knees, trying in vain to clean the floor, picking up shards of ceramic and spreading towels. God, there’s so much blood! The cleanup crew stuffed the blood-soaked towels into the body bag with Anupa. Anupa’s sightless eyes stared up at nothing.

  God forgive me!

  Thomas flinched when Romano grabbed his arm, harder it seemed to Thomas than he needed to.

  “Take off your clothes,” Romano snapped. “Now,” he added before Thomas could object. His eyes, like Maloney’s, were dark. Meekly, Thomas complied, handing his shoes, pants, and shirt to one of the white-suited men on the floor. These were stuffed into the body bag alongside Anupa.

  He was handed a pair of white booties and, after he slipped them on, Romano grabbed his arm again and led him around the body bag. The pool of blood was now gone, and the men were spraying something on the floor then wiping again to remove the last traces.

  What had repulsed him only moments before now mesmerized him. Anupa’s head had tilted to the side, the hair above her ear matted and sunken, where her skull had caved in. Unsure why, he reached down but was suddenly yanked back. He continued to stare as Romano, a vise-like grip on his arm, dragged him toward the door. As they stepped around Mahoney, Thomas saw the security chief hand the white-suited cleanup crew the plastic bag he had been holding. That’s the rolling pin, Thomas said to himself, unsure why that was important. The men stuffed this too in the body bag with Anupa. One of the men grabbed the zipper.

  Thomas shivered at the sound but watched nonetheless, fascinated as the bag was closed. Just like that, he thought. Anupa and the mess he had made were gone.

  As the door swung shut behind him one of the men said something—he couldn’t quite make out the words—but there was no mistaking Maloney’s response.

  “Burn it. Burn it all”

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I am indebted to many people for their assistance, support and encouragement in bringing The Devil’s Due to life. Jennifer Stolarz, Pat Galizio, David Leahy, and Jeff Beyer all read early drafts and provided their thoughts, corrections and perspectives. Without them, this book would still be an unfinished manuscript.

  During a visit to Ireland, Doctors John O’Callaghan and Gavin Wilk of the University of Limerick were gracious enough to spend time with me and answer my numerous questions, as was local historian Thomas Toomey. I am also indebted to Cpl. Andrew Lawlor, who works for the Irish Military Archives, for providing my grandfather’s military records and steering me towards other research sources such as the witness statements by IRA soldiers, now published online.

  To get a better sense of the IRA and the war, I read numerous accounts by the men who fought it, including My Fight for Irish Freedom by Dan Breen, Guerilla Days in Ireland by Tom Barry, When Youth Was Mine by Jeremiah Murphy and Victory and Woe by Mossie Harnet.

  I also read historical perspectives including The Battle for Limerick City by Pádraig Óg Ó Ruairc, Limerick’s Fighting Story, 1916-1921, Told By The Men Who Made It, published by The Kerryman in 1948 and John O’Callaghan’s Revolutionary Limerick.

  Movies such as The Wind That Shakes the Barley, written by Paul Laverty and directed by Ken Loach, and Neil Jordan’s historical biopic, Michael Collins, as well as the many documentaries on the Rebels of Ireland Channel on YouTube helped fill in the blanks.

  The Dead Republic by Roddy Doyle and Children of the North by M.S. Power provided a glimpse into The Troubles that continued to plague Ireland well after the time frame of my book. David O’Donoghue’s The Devil’s Deal shed light on the links between German Military Intelligence and the IRA in the 1930s and 1940s, a little known chapter in Irish history that could have greatly altered Ireland’s course.

  To get a sense of the Irish experience, I also read Angela’s
Ashes by Frank McCourt and Don’t Wake me at Doyles by Maura Murphy.

  I owe many thanks to my editor, Faith Black Ross, to my graphic designer, Lindsey Andrews, and to Amani Jensen and Maggie Elms, for providing another set of eyes.

  Again, the advice and counsel I received was outstanding and any mistakes in the finished work are mine and mine alone.

  While the above people and sources were invaluable, my ability to pick up a pen and write in the first place would never have been possible without the support of Mona, Kaitlyn, Kyle and Matthew.

  Thank you all.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  L.D. Beyer is the author of two novels, both part of the Matthew Richter Thriller Series. His first book, In Sheep’s Clothing, was published in 2015 and was the #1 bestseller for Espionage Thrillers, Assassination Thrillers and Terrorism Thrillers on Amazon Kindle.

  Beyer spent over twenty-five years in the corporate world, climbing the proverbial corporate ladder. In 2011, after years of extensive travel, too many missed family events, a half dozen relocations—including a three-year stint in Mexico—he realized it was time for a change. He chose to chase his dream of being a writer and to spend more time with his family.

  He is an avid reader and, although he primarily reads thrillers, his reading list is somewhat eclectic. You’re more likely to find him with his nose in a good book instead of sitting in front of the TV.

  Beyer lives in Michigan with his wife and three children. In addition to writing and reading, he enjoys cooking, hiking, biking, working out, and the occasional glass of wine.

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider writing a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or the platform of your choice. You may also sign up for L.D.’s mailing list on www.ldbeyer.com.

  Thank you.

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