I got it. 12 H is 12 hundred hours. 12 noon. So let’s say something important is gonna happen at 12 noon. But where?
Mickey keeps staring at his notebook for several minutes. His brain keeps turning over and over what he’s looking at, trying to make sense of it. Then, out of nowhere, he blurts out, “At twelve noon on May twenty-fifth something important is gonna happen.”
He looks around to see who heard him. When he didn’t get any stare backs from the people around him, Mickey goes back to his notebook.
That’s it. 12H255—12H is twelve hundred hours. The 25 has gotta be the twenty-fifth of the month. And 5 is May, the fifth month of the year. Europeans flip days and months. That’s gotta be it. But what exactly is so important about May 25th at 12 noon?
He looks again at the next couple of items and numbers them too.
The waitress takes his empty bowl and plate away and asks if he would like anything else.
“Just another hot pot of tea, thanks.” Then Mickey gets back to the task at hand.
Stagecoach-6—It’s to the left of center and underlined. I’ll make that number 4.
So numbers 3 and 4 are important because they’re underlined. Might as well stick to the strategy. Seems to be working. In my mind anyway.
The waitress brings Mickey’s second pot of tea and sets it down on the table. Mickey is coming up blank on his numbers 3 and 4. So he jumps to the next word on the page.
RED—It’s all caps. What’s red? Red China? Red! Red! Red! Sheep.! All the sheep at Drum’s ranch had red-dye circles on their backs. At least the ones that still have wool. So what! Man! Next!
ParkM—It just has the M underlined. Park. Park. What is a ParkM? One word? No, two words. It’s a place. A Park. And the name of the Park begins with the letter M. Because all the would-be players could be in Dublin, guess I’ll start with parks in Ireland. No! Parks in Dublin. Why not? There’s Phoenix Park. No M there. There’s College Park inside Trinity, and Saint Patrick’s Park. There’s Saint Stephen’s Green Park. Lots of stuff goes on there. What if someone is playing with words and replaces park for square? I do it all the time over here. And what’s one of the most famous squares in Dublin? Merrion Square.
Mickey opens his planner to May. He runs his index finger along the page to May 25th.
It’s next Saturday. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What am I thinking? Jerry Drum had a newspaper clipping talking about the president going to Ireland on the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth to trace his roots. And what was it Professor whatever-his-name said? Something about giving extra credit for students who go hear the president in Merrion Square. He also said something about his spies telling him the president would be in Merrion at twelve hundred hours. That son of a B is really going after the president of the United States. On foreign soil yet. That’s ballsy.
This time, Mickey looks at all the words and numbers on the page, keying in on all the words that are underlined and reads them slowly to himself.
12H255—IWP—Stagecoach-6—Park M—9—7—Bamboo—Castle—Flotus—State House Bell
The clock is ticking and I’m running out of ideas. I need help. Expert computer research help.
Mickey finishes his tea, pays the bill, and walks the two blocks back to his 93 Saint Stephen’s Green suite.
CHAPTER 30
“Reckoning up is friendship’s end.”
Irish Proverb
By the time he gets back, it’s just shy of eight o’clock. Three o’clock Philly time. Let me try my go-to research person again.
He punches in a number he knows by heart and waits.
“Cunay!”
“Michelle? Mickey.”
“Man, you’re a hard man to find. I’ve tried that new number. I even had my guys call half the hotels in Dublin.”
“Riiight! I’ve been a little busy, Shelle.”
“I’ll bet, Mick. I got a fax from a peer in Dublin. It was a draft of an article about to be published in the Irish Times. It talks about some explosion outside Dublin. It didn’t mention names. The Garda aren’t as open with the press about stuff as the PPD, at least some PPD. Anyway, the article talked about how some Garda superintendent and a visiting police official from the US were injured in an explosion. Tell me you weren’t that visiting police official.”
Mickey’s silence is telling for Michelle.
“You’re scaring me, Mick.”
“Sorry, kiddo. It’s a long story. Bottom line: I’m fine. But my friend, Superintendent O’Clooney, wasn’t so lucky. He’s in pretty bad shape.”
“Oh—my—God. So am I gonna hear this long story of yours or not?”
“Soon. Real soon. I told you it’s your exclusive. But I need you to keep what I just told you under your hat for now. If my name shows up in connection with the explosion, it may spook my target. Or more people, including yours truly, could get jackpotted.”
“Holy shit, Mick. You found Odysseus. You’re going after the Greek, aren’t you?”
Mickey doesn’t answer.
“Okay. I get it. If you didn’t call me to spill the beans, you must want something. Shoot! What’s up?”
“I need you to do a little of that fancy research thing you do. Something the PPD can’t. Got a pen?”
“Go!”
“Write these words down.”
Mickey has Michelle write down only the underlined words he hasn’t figured out. He has her repeat them back to him. She does.
“What is this stuff, Mick? Looks like a bunch of unrelated words.”
“That’s what I thought. I don’t think so anymore. I—”
“Wait! I know what State House Bell is. It’s the original name given to the Liberty Bell back in 1752. It was renamed Liberty Bell in 1839. I did a college paper on it when they moved the Bell in 1976. You’re a history buff, Mick. I’m surprised that got by you.”
“Take it easy on me, madam editor. I’m the walking wounded, remember?”
“Okay, walking wounded. So anyway, once I figure out the rest of your little puzzle for you, and I will, how do I get back to you?”
“Barring any emergency, I’ll be here for the rest of the night. Remember, Ireland is five hours later than Philly.”
“Give me an hour and I’ll call you back.”
“Outstanding! And, Shelle, remember—nothing in print until I say, all right?”
“You got my word. I’d never forgive myself—”
“Okay already. Stop with all that stuff, Shelle. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“An hour. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Talk to ya, kiddo.”
After Mickey hangs up he ponders if he should have given Michelle a list of the words that weren’t underlined. What about the word RED in capital letters? Maybe that means more because it’s in caps. Like Kevin said, a second set of eyes is always good. Nah!
Next, Mick calls the nurses’ station at Saint James Hospital.
“Intensive Care, Nurse Powell.”
“Good evening, Nurse Powell. I’m an associate of Superintendent O’Clooney. Can you tell me his condition?”
“Hold on, please.”
Someone else, a young man, picks up the line.
“Matt Kelly. Who am I speaking to?”
“Oh! Hi, Matt. Captain Devlin. I met you—”
“Yes, sir. How you feeling, Captain? By the time I arrived at Saint James, you had already gone.”
“I’m fine. I left ‘cause I still had a couple of things to check out.”
“Oh. You were following a lead, right?”
“Exactly. Matt, can you update me on the superintendent’s condition?”
“Sure! Good news. He’s awake and talking up a storm.”
“That’s good news. I trust he’s not talking to the press.”
“No, sir. We’re keeping them at a distance.”
“Can Kevin take a phone call? Can I talk to him?”
“I’m certain he wants to talk to you. He’s been asking about you since he
came out of his coma. Hold on, sir.”
“Mickey, Kevin here. How you doing? I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Thanks to you.”
“Don’t be silly. If you hadn’t grabbed hold of me and taken me down—well, I’d probably be pushin’ up daisies by now. But seriously, how are you doing? Heard you messed up that mug of yours.”
“My mug is fine. Some may say it has improved a bit.”
“You’re a card, Mick.”
“Can ya talk, Kev?”
“Sure, partner.”
“Oh, before I forget, can I get that photograph of Paddy Drum?”
Mickey doesn’t go into the mysterious Paddy Drum visit at Philly’s ME office. That’s for later.
“Sure, I’ll have Matt run over and bring it back here. It’ll be here in an hour. Stop by at your leisure. I’ve got extended visiting hours. With the Garda detectives running in and out, I demanded them.”
“Great!”
Next, Mickey brings Kevin up to date on what he’s been doing since the blast, including what he transcribed from the pad in the Volvo, plus the parts he believes he’s figured out. He finishes with Michelle Cunay’s pending research.
“What do you think, Kevin?”
“I think I gotta get you and my boss in the same room.”
Mickey gets all wide eyed. “Kevin, is that the boss who sent a letter of apology to Patrick Drum?”
“One and the same. I see where you’re going here, Mick. But protocols must be followed. You know how that goes.”
“I do. How ‘bout we split the baby?”
“Excuse me.”
“Ya know, Solomon. In the Bible?”
Mickey senses his analogy fell short.
“Let’s split the difference. I’ll meet with your boss. But I’d like twenty-four hours to get all my ducks in a row first.”
“I don’t know, Mick. I realize you have concerns. But—”
“You got my word. In twenty-four hours I’ll call you. And you can set up a meet for all three of us. I’ll come there to Saint James. What do ya say, partner?”
“Partner. Look, my arse will be in a bind if something goes afoul and my superiors weren’t apprised.”
“So maybe it’s better that this conversation never took place. What do you think?”
“You trying to save my arse again, Mick?”
“That’s what partners do, Kev.”
“Deal! Twenty-four hours. Guess I can stay a little woozy that long. Hey, Mick. The scene commander from the Drum property just left my room. She told me that there were similar explosive devices on the door of the lower barn and the back door of the main house. She also said all of the explosive packages were designed to detonate remotely.”
“Remotely? Ya know what that means?”
“I do. Someone was watching us, and when we got too close, he or she pushed the button then—kapow—we end up on our arses.”
“Was anyone found at or near the scene?”
“Not a living soul.”
Mickey doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Kev knows Mick’s mulling over some detail he feels he should have caught earlier. Kevin’s been there himself.
“What are you thinking, Mick? I can damn near hear the wheels turning in that head of yours over the phone.”
“Red sheep.”
“Come again.”
“The guy on the hill above us. Ya know. Across from the Drum ranch. The guy you joked about being a Brit.”
“Right. The guy who didn’t return your hello wave. What about him?”
“He’s the one who pushed the button. He’s our bomber.”
“You came to that conclusion based on sheep with red circles dyed on their back ends?”
“Remember when I said red must be the color of the day?”
“Kinda.”
“Back on my side of the Atlantic when there’s cooperation between law enforcement—like during a presidential visit—we all wear little lapel pins with ‘the color of the day.’ Helps separate the good guys from the bad. If the detail goes on longer than a day, we change colors. Michael Odysseus would know that color-code system.”
“That’s way deep in the weeds for me at this point, Mick. So maybe I am a bit too woozy. Help me out.”
“Here’s the connection. At the Drum homicide the detective found newspaper articles with little red circles around certain presidential activities. One article circled in red was about the president’s trip to Ireland. And if you look at all the sheep grazing closest to Drum’s barn, they’re all color coded red.”
“Sure, like I told you before, that’s to signify which sheep are his.”
“If you have all the grazing land that Drum has, why would you bring your red-coded sheep all the way across the road and to a hill with rocky soil?”
“To have high advantage and watch what was going on across the road, inconspicuously, while the boss was at market. How ‘bout when you come over here to pick up the Paddy Drum photo I get one of our composite sketch people over here?”
“Good idea. We can have the sketch distributed to all the Garda working the Merrion Square detail on Saturday.”
“Sounds good. Can you have your guys fax a copy to Secret Service Agent Greg Miller on the president’s advance team, too? I’ll write down his fax number for ya.”
“Not a problem.”
“Perfect. Might as well cover all bases.”
“Kevin. I’m kinda anal when it comes to the use of the spoken word. So, when you said that not a living soul was—”
“Let me stop you there, Mick. Some things are still under investigation. So, all I can reiterate is what I already said, not a living soul was found at the Drum scene.”
Mickey doesn’t push the issue. After all he’s not sharing everything with Kevin either. “Gotcha! Ya don’t have to hit me over the head with a hammer twice. I understand. Okay then. I’ll talk to you when I stop by to get the Drum photo.”
“Looking forward to seeing you, partner.”
Mickey can hear Kevin yelling for young Matt Kelly.
“Hey, Matt, I got a mission for you. Come in here and hang up this phone. Wrong number.”
Matt doesn’t dare challenge the superintendent’s order or assessment of the phone caller. He just does what he’s told. Mickey smiles and waits to hear the line go dead. Then he puts his handset gently back in its cradle.
Now there’s a leader.
CHAPTER 31
“Necessity urges invention.”
Irish Proverb
Less than an hour after hanging up with Michelle the bedside phone rings. Mickey had dozed off so it took a couple of rings before he answered. In a groggy voice Mickey picks up.
“Devlin.”
“Hey. What took you so long? You sleepin’ on the job again, Mick?”
“Never. Got something for me, Shelle?”
“You sitting down?”
“That bad?”
“Where’d you get this stuff?”
“Off a notepad in a Volvo parked in a barn sitting under a big white cowboy hat, right after I got blown up.”
Michelle chuckles. “What are you, the riddler?”
Mickey laughs into the phone.
“No. It’s true. See. I finally come clean, give up a little of my Ireland adventures, and you don’t believe me.”
“It’s the Irish in me, Mick. Sorry!”
“Believe me, it’ll all fit together for ya soon. Now what did you come up with?”
“Okay. From the top words first, Stagecoach.”
“IWP is the top, not Stagecoach.”
“I’ll get to that.”
“Now, Stagecoach and the number 6.”
“Stagecoach is code for the president’s armored limo. And the number six represents where that limo would be in a twenty-seven-car presidential motorcade. That’s if we rule out a ‘car flip.” The Secret Service will do that occasionally to throw off the bad guys. I’m just not sure the Secret Servi
ce always goes with a twenty-seven-car configuration. Are you, Mick?”
“From what I remember, they do in the US. But maybe not outside the States. Depends on if the VP and the First Lady will be onboard. Stuff like that.”
“So which one are you looking at, Mick? Here or there?”
“Not sure. But I do know the president will be in Ireland this weekend.”
“That’s right. And if that gut thing you have is correct, which it usually is, the Greek is also in Ireland.”
“If I’m right. As of earlier today, I think he was. I’m not sure now. My main suspect just went MIA.”
“That can’t be good.”
“True story. What else ya got?”
“Bamboo. Keeping it presidential, Bamboo is also the Secret Service code word for the president’s motorcade.”
“That fits. Can’t wait to hear the next one.”
“Castle. That happens to be code for the White House. And ready for this? Flotus is an acronym for First Lady of the United States. Do you know if the First Lady is going with her husband to Ireland?”
“No. But I’m gonna try and get my Garda connection to give that intel up. I’ll try my guy with the Feds. But the odds are low that he’ll be giving up much on the president’s trip agenda. What else?”
“We already know what State House Bell is about. The Liberty Bell.”
“Now the numbers 7 and 9.”
“Seven. The number 7. That could mean the seventh vehicle in the president’s motorcade. If that’s what we’re talking about, car seven is the ‘follow-up car.’ Primarily Secret Service guys ride in that one. Coincidently, the other number you gave me, Number 9, is the SWAT car. If we’re correct about the whole presidential motorcade thing to begin with. How’d I do?”
“Ya did good. And I’m thinking that if the president’s backup vehicles and the SWAT guys are knocked out…”
“Disaster!”
“Big time! Now what about IWP? Any luck with that?”
“Not a clue. Doesn’t fit the presidential theme. That one’s gonna fall back on you, Mick.”
“That’s definitely the oddball of the group, if, as you say, we’re right on with the presidential theme. I’ll figure it out. It’s right in front of me, I’m sure. It’s just a matter of connecting what you gave me with what I already have.”
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