Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6

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Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6 Page 56

by Kiernan-Lewis, Susan


  Fiona was sorely afraid that wouldn’t present much of a problem for the people who held them.

  Chapter 12

  Both Mike and Gavin pulled their handguns from their holsters and emerged from the forest. They crept to the ditch beside the road. There, between the watching men’s legs, they could see the fight clearly by the light of the Jeep’s headlights. A girl, slim with long black hair, stood in a fighter’s stance with her back to them. Knees slightly bent, one foot in front of the other, she danced in a quick half-circle with her arms out and her back to the watching ring of men. Her opponent was heavy set, sluggish and furious. His face was swollen and bruised and he wiped continually at a freshly broken nose. The blood seeped down his shirtfront. He held a large staff in both hands.

  Suddenly, he lunged at the girl but she quickly parried with a frontal kick that sidestepped the staff’s arc and connected with his face. The man’s head snapped back and the girl didn’t waste the advantage. In three steps she was in front of him, ignoring the staff he held and slamming the palm of her hand under his chin. He went down hard to his knees.

  A cheer from the watching men made her whirl around as if ready to take them on too.

  “Shite, Da,” Gavin said hoarsely. “It’s Jaz.”

  Jaz was one of the young gypsy women from the compound. She had been engaged to a man who was murdered by the druids the fall before. To see her here now—alone and without her family—was disorientating and confusing.

  Did that mean the gypsies were nearby? If so, wouldn’t they have shown themselves by now? The compound gypsies were brave and loyal to family unto death. No, if the family had been anywhere near, they would be here. For some reason, Jaz was on her own.

  Before Mike could stop him, Gavin was out of the ditch and running across the road.

  Bugger!

  Mike hauled himself out of the ditch and ran after him. Gavin stood at the edge of the ring of men and aimed his gun at the first man he came to.

  “Let ‘er go!” Gavin bellowed.

  The men turned around to stare open-mouthed at him. Mike came up on the other side of them and aimed his gun at the tallest man. He’d been right about the numbers. There were five men. Mike didn’t dare glance at Jaz but held the gaze of the man in his gun sights.

  “The girl is ours,” Mike said in a deep booming voice. “And we’ll be taking her now.”

  He heard Jaz gasp. Before the men could react to Mike and Gavin, Jaz stepped up to one of the men in the group, grabbed his pistol from his belt and kicked him solidly between the legs. He screamed and folded up. She pivoted around to the man next to him and shot him in the chest. Not waiting for him to fall, she aimed at the next man in line. With a roar of fury, the man she’d been fighting tackled her from behind. Her gun fell to the ground.

  There was nothing for it now. Mike turned to shoot the man he had in his sights but Gavin had stepped into his line of fire. He heard the loud report from Gavin’s gun. To Mike’s immediate right, a man drew on Gavin and Mike shot him. Jaz and her opponent struggled in the twin beams of the Jeeps headlights. The man had her from behind and held the staff with both hands against her throat. His eyes looked at Mike in a clear, unspoken message of negotiation.

  That was his mistake.

  Jaz’s free hand punched downward between his legs. She grabbed his crotch and twisted it fiercely as a primeval scream erupted from her mouth. The staff clattered to the ground seconds before the man sank to his knees. His hands cradled his injured genitals.

  Wresting free of him, Jaz scooped up the gun from the ground. Gavin grabbed her arm but she jerked out of his grip and fired two rounds at the man kneeling before her. Gavin wrenched the gun from her with enough force to knock her onto her backside in the dirt.

  With a loud groan, her target fell from his knees onto his face. The bullet left a gaping and jagged exit wound on the back of his head.

  It started to rain.

  *********

  Mike narrowed his eyes at the young man they’d taken prisoner. It complicated their mission but there was clearly nothing for it.

  “Who are you lot?”

  “Feck you.”

  Mike slapped the prisoner hard across the face. The man was in his early twenties and thin. He showed fear in his eyes but a stubborn resolve not to act it.

  “What I hate,” Mike said, “is constantly being forced down into the muck. D’ye know what I mean by that?”

  Their prisoner sat in the backseat of the Jeep with his hands tied in front of him. “Me old mum once said,” Mike continued, “if you hang out with scum, they won’t rise up to your level. Likely, you’ll sink to theirs.”

  “I had your old mum over a barrel last week,” the young man said, his mouth twisted in derision.

  “Oh, now, see?” Mike said from the front seat of the Jeep. He had an arm draped over the back of the seat as he spoke. “You’re trying to make this easy for me and for that I thank ye. Get his boots off, Gav.”

  He turned his attention back to the man. “Unless you’d rather lose your fingers? Makes no matter to me. You can see I mean it, don’t you? This world has hardened all of us. More’s the pity. What did you do before the bomb dropped, me bucko? Were ye a peaceful, civilized sort or were you always a lowlife bastard? Me, I was a fisherman. If ye’d told me five years ago I’d have no trouble chopping the fingers or toes off another human being just to get something I wanted, well, I don’t think I’d have believed it.”

  The fear was visible in the man’s eyes now. He licked his lips.

  “I’ll tell you what you want,” he said.

  “Well, sure, that’s grand, but now I’m thinking about your relationship with me old mum.”

  “I’m sorry I said that. I don’t know her a-tall.”

  “Cut off ‘is balls,” Jaz said. “I’ll do it.”

  “Now, now,” Mike said reprovingly. “We have plenty of bits of him to cut off. Let’s see what he has to tell us first. You okay there, Gav?”

  They had taken the Jeep and driven down the road to where the horses were. Mike didn’t expect anyone to come looking for this lot but after checking to make sure the rest of them were all dead, it seemed prudent to leave the scene. If nothing else, so Gavin didn’t have to keep looking at it.

  They sat in the quietly pinging Jeep—Mike and Jaz in the front seat, Gav and the man in the back.

  Gav nodded silently and Mike redirected his attention to their prisoner. He had been the one who was lucky enough to be disabled early on in the fight when Jaz kicked him in the balls. When he’d recovered, his friends were dead and he had a gun to his head.

  “First, your name,” Mike said pleasantly.

  The young man glanced worriedly at Jaz who held a large hunting knife in her hands. If she was anything like the rest of her family, Mike knew she was comfortable using it.

  “Carey,” he said. “Liam Carey.”

  “And your friends?”

  “We’re the New Black and Tan,” he said, referring to a feared and sadistic police group in Ireland’s history.

  “And what the feck is that?”

  “The new militia. We work under the Garda to patrol the countryside.”

  “Says who?”

  “The government, don’t they?”

  “The government pays you?”

  “In trade like, aye. Food, hoors.”

  “Pays you to do what?”

  “Keep a look out, like.”

  “This is getting tiresome, Liam,” Mike said with a sigh. “I need to know before morning if I’m going to need to shoot you or not.”

  “You won’t have to shoot me! I’m cooperating!”

  “What were you doing with the lass?”

  “Just having a bit of fun.”

  “She didn’t look like she was having much fun. Jaz? Were you having fun?”

  “Does now count?” Jaz said, tapping the knife against the seat.

  “The government pays us to find people for them,”
Carey said. He continued to watch Jaz nervously.

  “What kind of people?”

  “Men. For the mines.”

  “For the mines? What mines?” Mike felt his heart begin to pound hard in his chest. Was that what happened to the compound men?

  “I don’t know, I swear I don’t. We go around and find men. They need ‘em for the mines. We been out three days and found feck-all. Me lieutenant, Jimmy…” He stopped and looked at Mike as if just realizing something. “You…you killed him.”

  “Aye, lad,” Mike said. “We killed them all because they had something that belonged to us.” He nodded his head to indicate Jaz. “Ye see how that works? Now, what about Jimmy?”

  Carey swallowed painfully. “J-Jimmy said we’d be sent to the mines ourselves if we came back empty-handed.”

  “So you weren’t heading to Dublin when you found the lass?”

  Carey shook his head. “Jimmy said we were to try the coast.”

  Mike nodded. A sudden wave of exhaustion came over him. They hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday and they were all tired. Morning was still several hours off.

  “All right,” he said. “We’ll hide the Jeep in the woods and get some rest.” He spoke to Jaz. “You can tell us over breakfast what the feck you were doing out here by yourself.”

  “I’m here to find Tommy, aren’t I?” she said.

  Gavin spoke up. “Tommy? Tommy Donaghue?” Tommy was seventeen. He had been the compound computer expert—when there had been electronics for him to be expert over. He was a good friend of Gavin’s.

  “Aye,” she said. “The bastards took ‘im. I mean to get him back.”

  “A little late, aren’t you?” Gavin said.

  “Gavin,” Mike said admonishingly.

  “I had to go with my family,” Jaz said. “They didn’t know about me and Tommy.”

  “Does Tommy know?” Gavin said.

  “Go feck yourself, Gavin Donovan!” Jaz said hotly.

  “The two of you, shirrup!” Mike barked. “Out of the car and let’s go. Now.”

  Gavin grabbed Carey’s sleeve and pushed him ahead of him as they headed into the woods while Mike drove the Jeep behind them. When they reached a clearing, Mike stopped and got out. Then he and Gavin piled branches on the vehicle while Jaz held the gun on their prisoner. When they arrived back at the place they’d left the horses, Mike tied Carey to a tree.

  It was cold but it was too late to bother with a fire. Mike broke out sandwiches that Sarah had packed for them and divided the food up among the three of them, ignoring Carey. Gavin untacked the horses and they settled down for an uncomfortable night on the ground.

  Before he lay down, Mike found an opportunity to put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder.

  “Ye had to, lad,” he said. “And because of it we’re one step closer to finding our people.”

  “I know, Da.”

  “Thank you, Gavin,” Jaz said in a small voice from her pallet of blankets. “And you too, Mr. Donovan.”

  “You’re welcome, lass,” Mike said. “Get some sleep now.”

  Chapter 13

  “Get out, ye cow! I’m minding the bread!” Regan screeched as Sophia stepped into the kitchen.

  “You are doing it wrong!” Sophia said. She grabbed the heavy ceramic bowl from Regan’s hands. “Sarah said I’m to do it.”

  “She said nothing of the kind, ye fecking dago wap bitch!” Regan said and jerked the bowl back,

  Sarah entered the kitchen in time to see the bowl tumble to the floor with a white mass of dough oozing over its lip.

  “Both of you stop it this minute!” she shouted, clapping her hands at them. “Do you see what you’ve done?”

  “It was her!” Regan said. “I was making the bread when she came in!”

  “You told me to do it, yes, Sarah?” Sophia said. “Because I am not able to work in the fields,” she said, putting a hand on her still-flat abdomen.

  “That’s bullshite!” Regan screeched. “I’ll bet you’re not even preggers!”

  “What part of knock it off isn’t English?” Sarah said. “Regan, clean up that mess, and Sophia, go back to your own cottage.”

  “But Sarah—” Sophia said plaintively.

  “Enough! Dear God I hope I’m having another son. I can’t bear all the whining with girls. Go on, go!”

  Sophia turned and flounced out of the kitchen, slamming the living room door behind her.

  “It wasn’t me,” Regan said as she scraped the ruined dough back into the bowl.

  “I don’t even care,” Sarah said tiredly. She caught sight of Archie through the kitchen window hurrying toward her.

  Crap. Now what?

  It was cold and the skies had threatened rain all day but so far nothing. Mike and Gavin hadn’t been gone two full days yet and she’d hoped to have more to show for the time spent working. Archie and John had spent most of that time trying to get the fields ready to plant. It was hard work—especially without horses—but it had to be done. They were already weeks too late for most of the things normally planted. They at least had to get the corn and potatoes going or—forget stocking up for next winter—they’d starve by summer.

  Archie burst into the house without knocking.

  “Sarah, lass, we’ve got a problem.”

  Sarah met him in the living room. Ellen sat on the couch staring at her hands in her lap. She looked up at Archie when he came into the room but then dropped her gaze to her hands again.

  “What is it?” Sarah asked him. She’d been having alternating sharp and dull pains in her stomach all morning and she longed for an hour off her feet. But there was so much to do and so few of them to do it.

  “The plow’s cracked,” he said, whipping a scarf off his neck and mopping his face with it. As chilly as it was outside, if he was sweating that much Sarah knew he was probably overexerting.

  “What does that mean? Can we not prepare the ground?”

  Archie shrugged in helpless pantomime.

  If he says one more time “I don’t know, I’m a fisherman,” I will scream. But she couldn’t blame him, not really. He was as helpless as she was. And as far as being skilled in the areas that they could really use, nobody was more inept than Sarah. Not only had she always depended on Fiona and the other women in the compound for things like canning, sewing, and butter creaming, but she was so awkward and easily tired these days that she was nearly as useless as poor Ellen. And Sophia and Regan fought so much they were worse than useless.

  The thought of Fiona made Sarah’s eyes fill. She wiped the tears away quickly. She mustn’t dwell on it. Mike would find her. He had to.

  “How much did you get done?” she asked.

  “Not enough. Not by a long chalk.”

  “But we made a start,” she said.

  “Aye, if the storm will hold off,” he said ominously.

  “Well, we’ve got no control over that,” Sarah said, feeling the weight of the coming storm and its consequences press onto her shoulders. She put a hand out to steady herself against the back of a chair. “Where’s John?” she asked, pushing past the grinding pain that was unfolding in her belly.

  “Putting the plow in the barn.”

  “Good. I need to sit down. Regan, throw that out and start on another batch of dough. But first help your mother put on a sweater. The temperature’s dropping. Archie, did you check the cabbage ditches?”

  “Aye, lass, they’re ruined.”

  “Crap,” Sarah said. “How?”

  “You do know fine they’ve not being tended for five months or more,” he said. “I’m sorry, lass, I should’ve kept them covered.”

  “It’s not your fault.” But the loss of the cabbages bothered Sarah. She’d been counting on them to sustain the group this spring. “We’ll have green beans anyway.”

  “Aye,” Archie said doubtfully. “Hopefully.”

  God, why does everything have to be so hard? Regan helped her mother into a sweater and then sat and picked u
p a nail file. Sarah felt anger building inside her.

  “The bread dough, Regan?” she said, gritting her teeth against the pain.

  “If the dago wop wants to do it so bad, why not let her do it?” Regan said.

  “Sarah, are ye hurting, lass?” Archie took Sarah’s elbow and guided her to the couch next to Ellen.

  “I just need a moment,” Sarah said.

  “Feck me!” Regan squeaked, jumping up. “Are ye having the baby now?”

  “No, I am not,” Sarah said crossly, “but if you don’t get in the kitchen and start pounding dough, I’m going to start pounding you.”

  John appeared on the porch and peeled off his sopping jacket. She and Archie both glanced out the living room window. The rain was coming down silently but steadily.

  “It’s started then,” Archie said. “Pray it’s just a shower.”

  John came in and draped his jacket over the back of a chair. “Archie tell you about the plow?”

  “He did,” Sarah said, panting to ease the pain. “Nothing to be done for it.”

  “Crap, Mom! Are you in labor?”

  “No! I am not. Everybody just calm down.” A contraction seized her in mid breath and the sight of Archie and John swam woozily in her vision. Behind them a bright shock of lightning lit up the sky, backlighting them and throwing them into silhouette on the wall. Before she could speak a loud blast of thunder rattled the plates in the little cottage.

  Sarah felt the next contraction begin to build and she felt the terror of the coming pain—the pain she was powerless to protect herself from. It built slowly until it reached a peak just as another boom of thunder crashed with another flash of lightning. When the noise subsided, she panted and realized she’d screamed.

  The look on John’s face was pure panic.

  Dear God, this can’t be happening…

  Chapter 14

  Fiona eyed Dr. Mac as he stood up to put his stethoscope away. He always seemed to smell of lemons and soap.

  “You’re not really a doctor, are you?” Fiona asked as she pulled her tunic back down over her belly. All the pregnant women were examined weekly on their own pallets and with a curtain affording privacy. Fiona had to admit it gave the illusion of security and comfort. Dr. Mac listened to her heart with his stethoscope, and then again to her abdomen. He had not asked her to disrobe. He never had.

 

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