Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6

by Kiernan-Lewis, Susan

  “Then everything just went to shite,” Regan said. “He…he jerked me to my feet and slapped me. Then one of ‘em went inside. He’s the one tied up outside.”

  “You said there were three?” John asked.

  “Aye. Three with me and then the one outside with Arch and Sophia makes four. The bloke who took the rifle from me. He…” Regan swallowed and glanced at Sarah as if for strength. “He slapped me again and said he was going to roger me as soon as one of ‘em came back so he could put the rifle down. Every time he talked about me shooting at him, he…he got mad all over again.” She raised a hand to her bruised face. “I’m only glad they left Mum alone.”

  Sarah looked at Ellen, far away in her own private world, unaffected by invaders or fear or anything else the rest of them wrestled with constantly.

  “How did you kill him?” Sarah asked gently.

  Regan looked at Archie. “I did what you said to do,” she said fiercely. “I waited ’til he weren’t thinking of me. When I heard the gunshot I knew that was my moment. That’s when everything went into slow motion. He turned to see what was going on outside and I pulled me knife out of me boot and climbed up his back.”

  She mimed the action of pulling the man’s head back by the hair and cutting his throat from behind.

  “Good God,” Sarah said.

  Regan laid her head on Ellen’s shoulder. “Am I going to Hell, Sarah?”

  “If you are then we all are,” Sarah said. “You did what you had to, Regan.” She looked at John. “We all did.”

  “Will we kill the man outside?” Sophia asked, her eyes darting fearfully toward the door.

  “No, Sophia,” Sarah said. “We haven’t come to the point where we’re performing executions just yet.”

  “More’s the pity,” Archie said with a frown.

  After the empty teacups were collected, Archie helped Regan move Ellen into the bedroom and Sophia made up a bed for Archie on the couch. Sophia would sleep with Sarah. When Sarah thought of how close they came to losing everything tonight, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. After everyone else was in bed, Sarah stepped out onto the porch with Archie and a half bottle of wine.

  “Should ye be drinking that, lass?” Archie said as Sarah poured him a glass.

  “It doesn’t matter at this point. I’ve been good up to now.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. The night stars twinkled and blinked above them. There was a chill in the night air.

  “We have to leave, don’t we?” Sarah asked quietly.

  “Aye.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening. This used to be our sanctuary.”

  “Aye. But no longer. It’s not safe. We were lucky tonight but we can’t always expect to be able to dispatch them one by one next time. And there will be a next time.”

  “Where will we go? You do know I’m about five minutes from delivering a baby, don’t you?”

  “Aye, lass,” Archie said, grinning wryly. “A body could hardly miss that about ye, I must say.”

  “I’m not living in the damn woods, Archie.”

  “And didn’t I know that already? There’s a place not too far from here.”

  “What kind of place?”

  “A convent.”

  “You mean with nuns? How come I’ve never heard of it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s secretive, so it is. No electricity, no indoor plumbing.”

  “In other words, just like home.”

  He laughed. “But safe. Hidden from the eyes of the world. I’ll wager Mike doesn’t even know it’s there.”

  “How will he find us?”

  “Sure we’ll find him.”

  “I suppose we can leave a note or something.”

  “And would you be wanting to lead the next gang of hoodlums to the convent doorstep?”

  Sarah sipped her wine and sighed. “There’s always something. Have you noticed that? I mean, seriously—”

  She hadn’t finished her sentence when the scream from inside made her drop her wineglass. Archie was on his feet and into the cottage before Sarah fully realized who was screaming. She pulled herself to her feet with an effort, feeling the panic pulsating in her chest. Once inside, she saw Sophia and John standing in the hallway outside Regan’s bedroom. The door was open and Archie’s back filled the gap.

  Sarah pushed past him and glanced at the window expecting it to be wide open with a thug—a knife between his teeth—attempting entrance. But it was closed. Regan stood by the bed, her hands clasped to her chest and a look of anguish on her face.

  “Regan, what is it?” Sarah asked breathlessly.

  “It’s Mum,” Regan said in a whisper, tears trickling down her face.

  Chapter 21

  The moment Mike heard Carey screaming for help from the work camp guards, he and Gavin both froze in astonishment. It was an instinctive response to the shock of Carey’s betrayal. Fortunately, Jaz wasn’t similarly affected. By the time he and Gavin had gotten to their feet—with bright lights blinding them and loud speakers ordering them to drop their weapons—the gypsy girl had melted away into the verge of the woods behind them.

  Thank God for that.

  Although impossible to believe, it was as if the camp security had been expecting them. Or perhaps they’d just trained and retrained so long that when the alarm finally came in the form of a suspected assault from the front they were ready. Within moments of standing with their hands in the air and their weapons at their feet, Mike and Gavin were jerked from the bushes and herded down the starkly illuminated road that led into the camp.

  “Let me do the talking,” Mike said to Gavin out of the corner of his mouth.

  “No talking!” the burly guard behind Mike shouted, raising the butt of his rifle in ready threat.

  Ahead, Carey stood outside the guard hut with his hands raised too. A soldier held him at gunpoint while another talked on a phone. Suddenly the man on the phone hung up and barked to the soldier.

  “Yer to take ‘em to the Sergeant. This one too,” he said nodding at Carey.

  “But I’m with the New Black and Tan!” Carey said. The soldier with the rifle twisted it around and smashed Carey in the jaw with the stock. Carey staggered and flailed with his arms to keep from falling. The soldier grabbed Carey by the arm and pulled him back to his feet before pushing him toward the interior of the camp.

  Mike felt the hard nudge of a rifle’s muzzle in the small of his back. Plenty of time inside for talking. Best to talk to the head guy anyway. He heard the gate thump shut behind them as they passed through and a shiver of anxiety trembled across his shoulders.

  There was no reason to believe they would be allowed out of this place, no matter who he talked to. The thought lit up a budding panic smoldering in his gut. He glanced at Gavin but the lad’s face gave nothing away. Mike prayed Gav wouldn’t allow himself to be provoked. They were outnumbered and overpowered.

  The work camp wasn’t much bigger than Ameriland in size. Instead of arranging the huts and cottages around the center in a circle as they had in Ameriland, the area was cleaved down the middle by a wide dirt roadway and a line of pre-fab huts arranged in the shape of a horseshoe. The open section led to the front gate. The back section was another row of windowless buildings made of corrugated metal. There was a watchtower every thirty feet along the fence which was topped with thick coils of barbed wire. The rifles of the guards in each tower were clearly visible.

  The soldiers led them through the front door of the first building behind the guard house on the right side of the street. Inside they found themselves in a large room with a metal desk and a chair in the middle of it. The only thing on the desk was a sign that said Sergeant Major McKenna.

  The soldiers ordered the three of them to stand in front of the desk while another secured Mike’s hands with handcuffs. He was tempted to speak then—but something about the air in the room told him the interview would be over before it started if he tried. Gavin stood to his lef
t and Carey to his right. Both were cuffed. Both silent. At least for now.

  From the hallway, Mike heard the sound of a toilet flushing—a sound he hadn’t heard in four years. Working toilets had been one of the first things to go after the bomb dropped.

  “So what do we have here, eh?” A door opened down the hall and the big man they’d seen in the truck strolled into the room, hiking up his pants. His face was twisted into a sneer.

  “Found ‘em trying to sneak in, Sergeant,” one of the soldiers said.

  “That’s not true!” Carey said. He flinched in anticipation of being struck. “They are my prisoners,” Carey said to the sergeant.

  “Well, that’s just not fecking believable,” McKenna said with seeming good humor. “So yer a fecking liar on top of being a trespasser, eh boyo?”

  “No, sir, I—”

  One of the soldiers stepped forward and drove a fist into Carey’s stomach, bringing him down hard to his knees. Carey gasped and clawed at the floor in agony as he fought for his breath.

  “Ye see, me boyo,” McKenna said, “it’s likely you wouldn’t know but ye don’t call a Sergeant Major ‘sir.’ It makes ‘em feel like you think they’re a fecking officer and that’s an insult not many would endure.”

  McKenna looked at Mike. “I’ll be guessing you’re the leader of this merry pack of morons. Not that it matters, but could ye tell me what ye were doing out there?”

  Mike shrugged. “Just curious,” he said.

  A moment passed between them as McKenna weighed Mike’s response. Finally, he spoke.

  “We run a work operation here that’s essential to the security of our country. If you do what I tell ye, ye’ll eat fine and ye’ll get regular visits from the camp hoors. If ye don’t…if ye try to leave or do anything that I would call trouble-making, you’ll be killed. We don’t do things half way and I don’t give second chances, so don’t test me. Put them in F building and mind the guards know—anyone tries to come out, shoot first.”

  McKenna sat at his desk and picked up a cell phone to indicate the conversation was over. The soldiers led Mike, Gavin and Carey out the front door. Outside, the night sky was dark blue around a bright full moon. Mike wondered if Jaz was still near. Knowing her, she was probably up a tree watching everything.

  The facing rows of metal buildings looked dark and menacing. There were ten buildings all total in the camp. Each had only one door with two guards watching it. Even if by some miracle, a man managed to get one of the doors open and incapacitate the guards standing there, he would be seen by all the other guards along the single camp roadway. Not to mention the guard tower search beams which careened across the camp interior in a constant pattern of intersecting lights.

  We’re just going to have to do this job from the inside, Mike thought. That’s all. At least he and Gavin would be able to talk once inside. He heard sniffling from behind him and imagined it was Carey attempting not to open his stupid mouth again.

  They stopped at the door of the last building on the left. The soldier nodded to the two guards at the door and they opened it. As soon as he did, a strong wave of putrid odor, redolent of feces and unwashed skin poured out. Mike held up his handcuffed hands to one of the soldiers in query.

  “Can we lose these?” he asked.

  “Nah, Squire,” the soldier said. “Ye can live with ‘em for a few days ’til yer good and comfortable here.” He nodded at the interior to indicate Mike should go in.

  There was nothing for it. Even if he could disarm the guard—and he had no doubt he could—what then? He and Gavin would have to take down the three soldiers and the two guards and do it in front of the eighteen other guards. Mike dropped his hands and walked across the threshold, tightening his gut as the smells assaulted him like a physical attack.

  Gavin and Carey followed him in as the door slammed shut. In the pitch darkness, it was impossible to tell how many other men were there—at least a couple dozen.

  “Da?” Gavin said quietly.

  Mike reached up with his cuffed hands to touch Gavin’s forearm. “It’s all right, lad,” Mike whispered, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt. The stench was overwhelming. Something slimy slid under his boot.

  “Who’s in here?” he said, keeping his voice firm but nonaggressive.

  At first no one answered and then he heard a shuffling movement off to his right.

  “Jaysus, Mike,” a familiar voice said in a ragged whisper. “Is it really you?”

  Chapter 22

  Sinead pulled her desk drawer open looking for a stapler and saw an old iPod in one of the back corners. She’d not had the luxury of such things in her life before the bomb. She touched it tentatively now with a finger. It’s not that she didn’t have the money for one now—or even a functioning mobile phone for that matter. The problem was that she was in the middle of nowhere and the hope that this part of rural Ireland might someday have a cellular tower again was as useless as wishing she were thirty again.

  A knock at the door tore her out of her reverie.

  “Enter,” she said grabbing the stapler and seeing that it was out of staples, slammed the drawer shut. Today was the day they handed over the new baby in Dublin. Sinead normally looked forward to the drive to Dublin—and especially the drive back when her purse was fifty quid heavier—but today everything felt a bit off.

  The door opened and a gray-haired, middle-aged woman walked in. She was holding the baby born two days before. The woman, the camp midwife, scanned the room to see if they were alone. Sinead wasn’t fooled. She knew they all hated her.

  “Shall I put her in the cot, Mrs. Branigan?” the woman asked.

  “You can bloody hold her for five more minutes. Dr. Mac will be here presently.” Sinead paused. “How’s it doing?”

  The midwife looked at her in confusion. “Beg pardon?”

  “The baby,” Sinead said slowly. “How is the baby doing?”

  “She’s small. She needs her mother’s breastmilk.”

  “Well, did you pump bottles of it for the trip like I asked you?”

  “I did. Or rather, the mother did.”

  God! Why were all these women such a bother? They act like they don’t want the money they’re being paid. Or perhaps they don’t enjoy caring for women who need their help? It’s such bollocks about nurses wanting to help people.

  Mac entered the office and Sinead felt the tension ease out of the room.

  “There you are, beauty,” he said, his eyes on the baby. “Is she doing well, then?” he asked the midwife as he took the baby from her.

  “Well enough.” She turned to leave.

  “Mrs. Reidy?” Sinead said to the woman’s retreating back. “You will stay in camp until we return. Understand?”

  “Aye,” the woman said. “I understand.”

  “Cracking. Off you go then.”

  Sinead stood for a moment watching Mac gaze down into the baby’s face. His own face was softened and full of light. The thought that she might have had a man look that way at her own baby came sliding into her mind before she could stop it. Her baby. Twenty years ago now and way too long ago to be thinking of. It must be because she’d skipped lunch. She always acted daft when she missed a meal.

  Mac looked up from the baby and frowned. For a single mad moment, Sinead nearly put her hand to her hair to check that it was in order.

  “What’s your fecking problem?” she said instead as she snatched up her purse.

  “I don’t feel good about leaving.”

  “What the feck is that supposed to mean?”

  “The men. They’re getting more and more bold.”

  “You told them you’ll kill them if they touch the pregnant women?”

  “Aye.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t trust them.”

  Sinead came to Mac and put a hand on his arm. “Of course not, darlin.’ Would they be doing what they’re doing for us if we could trust them?”

  “A
nd we’ve got another one due any minute.”

  “We’re only gone one night. The midwife is on call and Hannah knows to notify her immediately or suffer the consequences. And don’t worry about the men. They have their hands full with the other women. Who would want to boff a pregnant woman if they didn’t have to?”

  Mac jostled the baby and looked into her face and smiled. Sinead made a sound of disgust. He looked at her.

  “What?” he said. “Babies need to be held. It’s a scientific fact. They don’t thrive if they’re not held.”

  “Why are you such a pussy, Mac? I swear if I hadn’t seen the tats for meself I’d never believe you actually did hard time.”

  “You act like it’s something to be proud of.”

  “How did you survive in prison being so weak and all?”

  “I guess being three inches taller than anybody else and working out with weights made a difference.”

  “I’ve seen you fight. You’re no pushover. But at the sight of a bairn, ye tear up like a teenage girl.”

  He shrugged. “I like kids.”

  “That is fecked, is what that is.” She walked to the door and nodded at the bag of baby bottles. “Can you get that or will you be wanting a sanitary napkin first?”

  **********

  Fiona stood in the courtyard and watched Mac and Sinead walk down the pathway to the car park in front of what Sinead referred to as the administration building. In fact it was where Sinead and Mac shared an apartment and where the rapists were processed for their duties. The men tasked with inseminating the women did not live at the camp. Since they were not allowed near the pregnant women, Fiona had seen them infrequently and then only from a distance. But she had heard stories about each of the men so that she felt she knew them. She’d even met them once or twice in her nightmares.

  As soon as she saw Mac with the bundle, Fiona knew it must be Megan’s lass. She saw a brief flash of red fuzz over the blanket and wondered which of the rapists had red hair. Or perhaps it was something in Megan’s family tree. Plenty of Irish had red hair. Fiona’s nephew Gavin did. The thought of Gavin made her heart constrict. She worked so hard on an hourly basis not to think of home or loved ones.