O’Rourke had served in an official and an unofficial capacity as Quartermaster General for the IRA for a number of years. During the heyday of arms acquisitions, O’Rourke amassed huge caches of weapons of all sorts and stored them in several secret locations throughout Ireland and Northern Ireland.
An artist came in and spent several hours with Jake sketching a drawing of Ian Collins, aka Shamrock. Bentley brought in the FBI sketch from Kaplan’s description and held them side by side. They were nearly identical.
The two images were scanned into a computer, then morphed together and a new image created. The resultant image was then sent to Interpol for distribution throughout the European countries’ law enforcement agencies with orders to “capture and detain.”
Jake spent the next two days in accelerated training at the CIA’s Camp Peary Special Training Center, known as “The Farm.” Although never officially acknowledged by the U.S. government, this ninethousand-plus-acre facility was located in York County near Williamsburg, Virginia. During World War II, Camp Peary was used as a Seabee training base and a stockade for special German prisoners of war. In 1972, the Virginia Gazette reported that the CIA trained its assassins at The Farm, but the CIA dismissed this as nonsense because it didn’t have “assassins.”
The first day’s training lasted several hours. The primary focus of the day was The Farm’s main impetus, basic tradecraft skills of weapons handling, explosives, infiltration techniques, and exfiltration techniques. Jake was fed and told to get some rest before reporting back at midnight for four hours of “night ops” familiarization training.
Jake found his prior Navy training helpful. The intelligence portion of training was the easy part for Jake, more like a refresher course, whereas the hand-to-hand combat and firearms training sessions were grueling. His anger and determination to get the man who shot Beth carried him through it.
The same helicopter that had brought him to The Farm took off from the five-thousand-foot runway at Camp Peary, and delivered him to the lawn landing pad at CIA Headquarters in Langley. A driver was waiting for him when he arrived and took him back to Bentley’s office.
Bentley was waiting for him in the conference room. Also in the room were the head of Security, the head of the Office of Intelligence and Analysis, the head of the Office of Clandestine Service, a female CIA operative named Isabella Hunt, and Gregg Kaplan.
Jake shook his head in amazement and started toward Kaplan. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Kaplan stood, wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt, and extended his hands palm up..
“I’m going with you to Ireland.”
“You can’t go, you have a gunshot wound. Shouldn’t you still be in the hospital?”
“The bullet didn’t hit anything. It just hurt like a son of a bitch. I rubbed some dirt on it.” He made circular motions over his wound. “And now I’m fine. I’ve been hurt a lot worse than this in the Army. Besides, you need me.”
“You were a lot younger in your Army days. I don’t need you. Maybe you’ve forgotten who saved your ass at Annie’s house?” Jake realized what he’d said. “Gregg, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about Annie.”
“Don’t be, okay?”
Jake turned to Bentley. “You called Gregg?”
Bentley shook his head.
Kaplan interrupted, “No, Jake, I volunteered, during the interview after the shooting. With everything that happened I feel I have unfinished business that needs my attention. Same as you do.
“Besides, what’s left for me in Savannah? Go back to work like nothing ever happened? Have to listen to all the gossip at work? I don’t think so. I’ve talked to my last airplane.”
Jake said nothing.
Bentley spoke up, breaking the awkward silence.
“Jake, you and Gregg are the only ones who have seen Ian Collins and are still alive to tell about it. You two are the only people who can recognize him and give me a positive ID.”
Bentley nodded toward the woman at the table as he went on. “You will accompany Ms. Hunt here to Ireland to locate Laurence O’Rourke and Ian Collins. You two will assist her in apprehending both men.”
Jake and Kaplan looked at Hunt at the same time, then glanced at each other.
Jake turned back to Bentley and asked, “Why didn’t you send Gregg to Camp Peary with me?”
“I didn’t really see a need. I accessed his military records and after reviewing them, I felt Gregg was fully capable of handling himself without any further training. His Special Forces training far exceeded anything he could have been given at the Farm.”
Isabella Hunt spoke for the first time, as her hazel eyes glinted at Jake. “I’m going to need you and Kaplan to help me locate O’Rourke and Shamrock. Then I’ll apprehend them.”
Jake kept his mouth shut and his face expressionless as he gave Hunt a closer look. She was attractive, he had to admit, with long, straight, black hair and glowing bronze skin. About five-foot-five, she was trim—maybe a hundred twenty-five pounds, Jake estimated, and she had an attitude. An attitude no doubt fostered from years struggling as a woman in a male-dominated occupation.
Jake rolled his eyes, then looked at Kaplan. “I know you were Special Forces, but what exactly did you do in the Army?”
Kaplan furrowed his brow. “Jake, there are some questions people ask and they really don’t want to hear the answer. I think this is one of them.”
“Oh hell no! I want an answer. I want to know what makes you so special you can just waltz in here and go off with no training or anything else. What did you do in the Army?”
Kaplan leaned in close to Jake. “Black ops. Satisfied?”
Jake said nothing.
* * * The next three hours were spent on detailed mission briefings and planning. During the briefing by the CIA analyst Fontaine, Jake’s mind wandered back to Savannah and Beth.
The recesses of his mind registered something familiar as Fontaine addressed the group.
“What did you just say?” Jake asked.
Fontaine sighed, and then repeated his last remark.
“Laurence O’Rourke has a brother named Sean who works with the Provisional IRA, or the Provos, but his whereabouts are unknown at the present time.”
“No, no, no. Before that, something about a ridge.”
“The ridge, oh yeah,” Fontaine said. “The O’Rourkes own property throughout County Leitrim that has been in the O’Rourke family for centuries. Laurence and his brother Sean own a house in a small village called Dromahair. The SIS file says that means ‘the Ridge of Two Air Demons.’”
Kaplan raised an eyebrow. “O’Rourke said something about a ridge to Collins right before the shoot-out, didn’t he?”
Jake stood up. “Yeah, he did.” He looked at the specialist and said, “Can you show me that on the map?”
Bentley interrupted, “Jake, does that mean something to you?”
“It might, it just might.”
Fontaine pointed to the area on the map. Jake leaned over and studied the map.
“This is it, Admiral.” Jake looked up at Bentley. “This is where we need to go. Like Gregg mentioned, O’Rourke said something to Collins right before the shooting started. Something about the location of the Ridge of Two Demons. Collins wanted to know where it was and once he found out, he was going to kill O’Rourke. This is where we need to go—the answer is here and that is where we will eventually find O’Rourke.”
Isabella Hunt interrupted. “How can you be sure? It sounds to me like you’re just playing a hunch. If you’re wrong, we end up at the wrong place, wasting time while O’Rourke gets away.”
She turned to Bentley. “Director, we can’t just gamble on a hunch. We need to go to Belfast and wait. We’re positive he’ll show up there. When O’Rourke shows up, we grab him.”
Bentley took off his reading glasses and placed them on top of his head. “Jake, I need you to be sure about this before we make a move.”
“Adm
iral, can Gregg and I speak to you alone?” Jake asked.
Hunt banged her fist on the table. “Director, with all due respect—”
Bentley raised his hand, then excused everyone from the briefing except for Jake and Kaplan. Hunt, lips tightened into a hard line, stood and walked stiffly out of the room.
“She’ll get over it, she always does. She’s very dedicated and probably feels a little uncertain about you two, maybe threatened a bit by my prior association with Jake,” said Bentley. “She’s one of my best, though.”
“Way to go, Jake,” Kaplan said. “A pissed-off woman with a gun. I don’t like our chances.”
Bentley walked around the table, put his glasses back on and looked down at the map laid out across the table.
“Can you be sure, Jake? Can you be sure O’Rourke will return here?”
“If you give me a couple of hours on the mainframe, I think I can prove it.”
“Okay, Jake. You’ve got two hours.”
CHAPTER 61
Jake returned to Bentley’s office exactly ninety minutes later with several printed documents stuffed inside five folders, one each for Bentley, Fontaine, Kaplan, Hunt and himself. If Bentley and Fontaine accepted the information Jake had gathered, Kaplan and Hunt would be briefed.
He laid the folders across the big desk and Bentley and Fontaine opened theirs and studied the documents.
Bentley removed his reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Jake, are you sure about this? Al Qaeda, Nasiri? Can you fathom the implications here?”
“Yes, sir, unfortunately, I’m very aware of all the implications. But I’m also quite certain.”
“How certain?” Bentley asked.
“Admiral, I’ll bet my life on this one.”
“Odd choice of words, Jake—you may very well be doing just that.”
“He’s right, sir,” Fontaine said. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, and Dromahair is the perfect location.”
“Well,” Bentley said, “I see you haven’t lost your touch for thoroughness. I always trusted your instincts before. All right, let’s do it.”
Bentley leaned over, pushed the intercom button and summoned Jean McCullough into his office to give Jake an update on Beth. She had been tasked to make periodic calls to the Candler Hospital in Savannah and receive updates on Beth’s condition.
“Jean, I’m sure Jake would like to know how Beth is doing. Do you have any news?”
“Actually, sir,” she replied, “I have Mr. McAllister on the line right now. Shall I forward the call in here?”
Bentley saw Jake’s eyes light up and said, “Yes, Jean, please do and send Mr. Kaplan and Ms. Hunt in here too.”
Jake spent the next five minutes on the phone with Mike McAllister getting caught up to speed on Beth and bringing McAllister up to date on those things he was allowed to discuss. The others waited patiently as Jake concluded his call.
Jake looked at Kaplan and saw the hint of a smile on his face. Suddenly Jake was glad Kaplan would be with him in Ireland.
As Jake placed the receiver down, Bentley asked, “Well, how’s she doing?”
“She seems to be stabilizing, which is good. Her father said she had some ups and downs and she’s still unconscious but her vitals are improving.”
“Jake, Gregg, I need to make sure you two fully understand your place in this operation,” said Bentley. “You are back-up and support for Isabella. You are also there for positive identification of O’Rourke and Collins, if he should show up. This is Isabella’s operation and you will take orders from her. Is that understood?”
Hunt glanced up from the folder and smirked, which didn’t go unnoticed by the others in the room.
“Yes sir, Admiral. I understand perfectly,” Jake replied. “I have no problem with that. I’m just glad I get to be there when O’Rourke goes down.”
Kaplan said firmly, “No problem, sir.”
Bentley tapped his finger on the table and leaned toward them. “Just remember, this is ‘capture alive’ for both O’Rourke and Collins. Keep your heads about you at all times. I don’t like making phone calls with sad news to relatives. I did enough of that in the Navy. It’s no easier now that it was then.”
He looked at Jake. “And I don’t want to have to call JP. This isn’t anything like what you did when you worked for me. This is frontline stuff. It can be a deadly game and you’re going after two very dangerous killers.”
“Yes sir, Admiral. I’ll keep my head low.”
“One more thing and this is of the utmost importance. The IRA ceasefire and peace in Northern Ireland are very important to the President. He wants the sanctity of the New Northern Ireland Assembly protected at all costs.”
Bentley closed the folders in front of him.
“We can’t afford a public display. This is to be covert and quiet. Get in, confirm what you say is correct and then get out. Report in ASAP. I’ll have our janitors sanitize the place before O’Rourke even shows up.”
Jake nodded. “Yes sir. Discretion is the word.”
Bentley stood up and shook hands with Jake and Kaplan. “Isabella is a very competent operative, you can trust her with your life.”
“Yes sir,” Jake and Kaplan replied in unison.
Bentley held the door open as the three walked out of his office. “Good luck.”
Once they were through the door, Fontaine closed it and turned to Bentley, “Do you think they can pull this off?”
“I sure as hell hope so—or this will be the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever stepped into.”
CHAPTER 62
At the late hour, the Stormont Parliament Building was usually empty except for the cleaning crews, but on this night there were occupants in the office of the Secretary of State of Northern Ireland.
“How long before O’Rourke surfaces?” the Secretary asked.
The Commander stood at his usual place by the window looking down at the two rows of street lights leading up to the Stormont Parliament Building. The night air was clear and cold. An occasional automobile headlight shone in the distance to the south passing by the guarded entrance at Upper Newtownards Road, one mile down Prince of Wales Avenue. The ancient walls of Stormont Castle were lit up by several massive floodlights dominating the view to the southeast of the Parliament Building.
In 1858 local architect Thomas Turner was commissioned by the Cleland family to revise and remodel a plain existing dwelling into a castle. This flamboyant castle later served as the Belfast headquarters of the Secretary of State of Northern Ireland. The Stormont Estate also housed the Stormont Parliament Building, opened in 1932 by Edward, Prince of Wales. The original architectural plans were to resemble the United States Capitol in Washington. Those plans were scrapped after the 1929 stock market crash and a smaller dome-less version was erected.
“It should be a couple more days. He couldn’t possibly escape the United States authorities and get all the way here undetected in such a short period of time.” The Commander turned from the window.
“I hope you are right—he could ruin everything we have worked for so many years.”
“I have taken extra precautions. I have increased the guards and hired an asset on the outside to take care of O’Rourke when he shows up again.”
“I hope he’s better than Shamrock. Shamrock failed us and took our money.”
“Shamrock is out of business. His reputation is now damaged beyond repair. No one will hire him again. Our asset was overjoyed when I mentioned the elimination of Shamrock after he finishes with O’Rourke.”
* * * The Persian’s Blackberry announced the arrival of another message on the Iranian singles web site. He logged in and retrieved his message. It instructed him to fly to Dublin, Ireland, and check into the Clarion Hotel at the Dublin Airport. He was to wait for further instructions. The message was signed by Laurence O’Rourke.
The Persian considered his alternatives and opted to follow the instructions. The payoff
would certainly be worth the risk. Besides he was a careful man, and a ruthless businessman—the odds were in his favor.
CHAPTER 63
O’Rourke drove by the Prince of Wales entrance to Stormont Estate in his stolen car. He noticed the increased security measures, extra guards posted at each entrance and extra security guards patrolling the grounds.
He knew a way into the estate that would keep him clear of the guards. His only concern was whether the Commander would also remember and post guards, or worse, cut off the access altogether.
The Savannah Project (Jake Pendleton series) Page 23