Blazer: Return of the Troubles: A Cop Thriller

by G. C. Harmon

  “Aye, the bloody statement. It was supposed to be a confession of my sins before God and the Church and show my commitment. But looking back, it appears I did leave out a few names.”

  “Enlighten us, please.”

  “The man trying to kill me is named Conner Riordan. He was the younger brother of me best friend, Cullen Riordan.”

  “Ooook,” Steve said slowly. Sitting back in the bench, realization hit him. He remembered from the statement his mentioning the little brother that always wanted to tag along. He’d just never been named. “Tell us about him.”

  “Conner was about ten years younger than Cullen. I think he knew the path his brother was taking, and he was all too eager to follow in Cullen’s footsteps.”

  “I’m guessing if he was just a boy, he wouldn’t have been attending any of the IRA gatherings that you lads were.”

  “Not on your life. Cullen wouldn’t hear of it. But I think I know what has caused the fires of vengeance to burn in the boy since his childhood.” The priest paused to gather his thoughts. “If you read the statement, then you know about the attack on the Brits at Newry. There’s a detail I left out of my writing. When I saw the car explode, when I saw Cullen perish and couldn’t do anything about it…I turned to flee, but…Conner was there, not fifty feet away, staring at me. You can imagine the terror in the boy’s eyes, seeing his brother die. But when he saw me, I saw rage there. I believe he knew that I was supposed to be at his brother’s side, fighting the Brits. They had gone ahead with their raid without me. I think he believes that one extra gun may have made all the difference and kept that cell alive. I know in me heart that it would only have accomplished killing a few Brits, which would have led to more Catholics and citizens of Newry being in danger. But he has his vengeance to keep him going.”

  “I think there’s something more to it,” Steve said. “I don’t think this Conner Riordan is in San Francisco just to get revenge on you. Something else brought him here, I think he’s here for another reason. It must have something to do with the IRA cause. Tell me, how is it you came to be associated with Paddy’s Irish pub, over near Coit Tower?”

  Fitzhugh seemed confused by the question. “No reason, really. When I started hearing about the trade issues and company violence regarding Brexit, I guess…I started to feel I was missing me homeland. I’ve found a couple of pubs around town to wet me whistle. I would stop by once in a while, have a few shots, listen to some banter about Belfast, or other towns, listen to rugby or soccer scores.”

  “Nay, now I’m not buyin’ it,” Drew said. “In all the years I watched you, I never saw you touch a drop.”

  “Come now, Andrew. Just because you never touch the stuff, don’t presume to tell me…There are men of the cloth who drink. Some hide it better than others.”

  “Aye, all that is true. But I suspect that with you, it’s a wee bit more. I believe you may be doubtin’ your faith.”

  Fitzhugh fell silent. His pause lasted seconds until he spoke. “I don’t know how else to say it, except you always were perceptive. I wouldn’t say I’ve lost my faith, but I believe I am having a crisis of faith.” He looked up at is cousin, now with his eyes welling up with tears. “I’m a hypocrite, cousin. For one thing, I’m supposed to be one with God. Therefore, when confronted with death as I was, I should have been willing to lay down my life and eager to meet me maker. Instead, I ran like the coward I always was.” He paused, overcome with his emotions. “How is it that God can even grant his grace to a killer like me? I have loved being of service to anyone I’ve come in contact with while hiding behind this collar. It is me penance. But I have been using this church to hide out for the last thirty-some years. How can I dispense God’s forgiveness to others, when I don’t even believe that God can forgive me?”

  “Oh, Cousin,” Drew said, “I can see you’ve been strugglin’ with this for a long time. Lord knows, I have my issues with the Catholic Church. For better or worse, this is the path you’ve chosen. And I’ve got to believe that you can find some grace and forgiveness, even from yourself, in all of the good works of service you have done.”

  “There’s more to it,” Fitzhugh continued. “When I contacted the British committee for the human rights talks, it was merely to offer some suggestions and wisdom from my own unique perspective. I did truly believe back in the day that Catholics had the right not to be harassed for the faith and oppressed by their government. And now I was seeing Brits being harassed by their coworkers simply because their government was seeking a different path—and simply because they were Brits. I tried to share that wisdom without giving away who I really was. But someone on the EU side of the talks recognized my name. in his former life, he’d heard the name of an up-and-coming member of the IRA who had disappeared. At our first meeting some months ago, he pulled me aside. He confessed to me who he was. He told me that he also was once a freedom fighter. He was a German businessman who once had been a foot soldier for the Red Army Faction in West Germany. Some referred to them as the Baader-Meinhof gang. His name is Klaus Wingert. He told me that he too had renounced violence and fled to the west. This was a few years before the Berlin Wall came down. That gang was rounded up, but he managed to slip through the cracks, allowing him to live free and clear. He was lucky that he was never a wanted man.” He suddenly looked up at the two of them. “Wait, is that why Conner has found me? Did Klaus betray me?”

  “Actually, I don’t think so,” Steve said. “I think it was someone at Paddy’s. We’re still investigating, but I believe that place is a hangout for Irish ex-patriots, who may still have connections to the underground back home. I believe someone there may have recognized you. They probably got word to Conner back in Ireland.”

  Fitzhugh digested this and nodded.

  “Fitzie,” Drew said quietly, “I think you should go to the talks. Whatever doubts you’re havin’ now, you have a chance to accomplish something really wonderful, to make peace between nations and provide dignity to their workers. You’ve spent your life doing the good works of God. This is one more chance to do just that, even if it turns out to be a last chance.”

  “Last chance, Andrew?”

  “If you decide you want to leave the priesthood,” the elder Blazer shrugged, “Maybe do it after these talks.”

  “I read something in your statement,” Steve said. “Father Flanagan. You remember him?”

  “Oh, lad, that was long before you were born.”

  “The statement struck me when I read it. Sometimes God does use us as his instrument on earth.”

  Fitzhugh lowered his gaze. “Words I’ve not heard in a long time.”

  “Don’t you think they apply here?”

  “Aye. I just hope they’ll take seriously the likes of a hellion like me.”

  “Fitzie, you are no hellion. Ya little devil, you were plannin’ to go all along. That’s why you picked a place to hide that was so close.”

  Fitzhugh would only shrug.

  “Listen,” Steve said, “I guess I didn’t mention it before, but we have a team from the State Department right outside this Monastery. My team is here with them, and we’ll make sure you get there safely. After that, it will be up to you to work with State to accomplish success with these talks. After that, we’ll deal with finding this Conner.”

  The priest suddenly looked scared. “I’m not even close to bein’ ready. All my notes and speeches are back in San Francisco.”

  “Can ye recreate any from memory?” Drew asked.

  “I’ll have to, but I’ll need some time.”

  Steve stood, leading the others to do so as well. “You get started on that. I’m going to go meet with the team from State. Maybe you’d like to confer with one of them.” He hurried out of the chapel, headed for the entrance through which he’d been admitted.

  Steve pushed open the large wooden door and stepped outside. He approached where his team had gathered, and Agent Birdsong led the State detail over. “OK, we found the priest ins
ide,” he announced to the group. “He’s unharmed, and we want to keep him that way. He knows who is trying to kill him, and I can brief everyone on that down the line. Right now, he is writing out some notes for what he wants to say at the talks, and we can transport him shortly.” He pointed to the Hispanic agent. “Your name again?”

  “Agent Pastor.”

  “You said you dealt with him before. Why don’t you come back in with me and chat with him for a moment, make sure he’s OK.”

  He led Pastor back inside. As Blazer opened the door to the yard within the walls, he got a look at Brother Belton, who appeared disturbed by such liberties taken with comings and goings, but he said nothing.

  Steve saw his father and Fitzhugh leaving the chapel. Drew led him to his son. “The good father is going to retire to his quarters for a time to compose himself and make some notes for his talks.”

  “Father Fitzhugh, I’m glad to see you alive and well.”

  “Yes, good to see you, Diego.”

  “Maybe I should come along and work with you on those notes.”

  “Yes, well, come along with you.” He led the short Hispanic agent past the Blazers and back inside the door.

  “Come on,” Steve said to his Dad. “I need to brief my team.”

  Steve and his Dad stepped outside. Steve shared a nod with Scot, beckoning them away from the State group. When the cops edged away, the men from State didn’t seem to mind.

  “Listen up,” Steve said quietly. “I have an identity on the man trying to kill the priest. His name is Conner Riordan. He is affiliated with the IRA. He’s the younger brother of someone Fitzhugh was associated with back in the 80s in Ireland. Apparently, Conner blames Fitzhugh for his brother’s death. I think he was sent here on IRA business but has made his revenge a priority. I am certain he’s connected to those thugs at the bar from last night. When we get back, I want to look heavily into the bar, figure out who some of those ex-pats are and go after them.”

  “Careful, son,” Stanson brought up, “This may be something we need to turn over to the FBI, or possibly our friends over there.”

  “Maybe. But we should start digging anyway.”

  “When we get a chance,” Scot said, “I can do some digging on this guy on the MDT.” This was the Mobile Data Terminal, the computer system inside their unmarked SUV. “Maybe we can figure out what this guy has been up to and why else he’s here.”

  Steve nodded. “Meanwhile, we’re going to run security to get Fitzhugh to Hearst Castle for these talks. In fact, I’m going to try and get the State guys to go ahead without us to prepare for the event.”

  Moments later, Steve approached the group from State. “You guys have some tasks and preparations you need to do at Hearst Castle, correct?”

  Agent Birdsong glanced at his partner, Agent Kent, then at the others. “We should make sure security measures are in place. There’s a reception for all parties starting in,” he glanced at his watch, “Four hours.”

  “Why don’t you guys head to the Castle, and we’ll bring Fitzhugh in a bit, when he’s ready?”

  “Bad idea,” Agent Kent said. “We need to stick together and get him there.”

  “My team is perfectly capable of transporting him there and keeping him safe. You guys go and make whatever preparations you need.”

  Birdsong looked at Kent. “It’s not a terrible idea. We should go make sure the whole thing is not falling apart.”

  “I’ll even call and let you know we’re on our way. Just make sure we can get in the gate. Who’s running security?”

  “We got permission to use a Secret Service detail.”

  “So, we are leaving now?” another Agent asked. Steve remembered him as Agent Banes but didn’t remember his post with the agency. Banes dug out a cell phone. “I’ll call Pastor and get him out here.”

  Birdsong gave Blazer a sideways glance, like he was expecting funny business. “You’re sure you’ll get him there? Soon?”

  “And safe,” Steve assured him, “don’t worry.”

  Moments later, Agent Pastor hurried out the door, letting it slam behind him. He jumped into one of the Crown Vics, and both vehicles headed down the road.

  Steve looked over his team. “You guys get ready to go as well. I’m going to go in for a progress report.”

  Steve opened the front door to the monastery. He started to head down the hall toward the courtyard door, but then spotted Brother Belton halfway down the stairs just inside the door. He froze when he saw the disappointed look on the monk’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You must think it very presumptuous of us to feel we can come and go as we please. If this disturbs your order, I apologize. Just know, your guest, Father Fitzhugh is wrapped up in events that could change the world for the better. We will shortly be taking him to where he needs to be. But again, humble apologies.”

  Belton simply bowed and nodded his acceptance.

  Steve emerged out to the courtyard. Just outside the chapel, he found his father chatting with Father Fitzhugh at the door to the quarters provided him by the monks. When he approached, he was all business. “I just sent the State team ahead, they’re going to make contact with everyone at the castle and prepare for your arrival. I told them we’d be right behind them. What’s your status?”

  “I’m going to write out some more notes, and I’d like to say goodbye to Brother Belton. We can leave in just a short time. Pardon me, gentlemen.” He backed into his room and gently closed the door.

  Once alone inside, he took a deep breath, then bowed his head in prayer.

  In fifteen minutes, Father Fitzhugh emerged from his quarters. He still wore the same clothes, the black slacks, black button down shirt and white Roman collar that he’d been wearing when chased from the cathedral in San Francisco. As Steve walked him toward the main entrance, he noted the man’s smell, having been on the run, and then working a vegetable garden. Sweating in these clothes for at least the last two days, he was a little ripe.

  Brother Belton stepped out the courtyard door. Fitzhugh steered his way and extended his hand. “Brother, thank you for allowing me to stay. Your hospitality was most gracious.”

  Belton showed he was capable of a smile. “May you find that which you seek.” He gave the priest a firm grasp of the hand.

  Steve led the three of them out the heavy wooden door. The door didn’t close, and Steve sensed rather than saw Brother Belton behind them, watching to make sure they left.

  Outside, the Captain and his team stood at the ready, finally getting a look at the man they’d been searching for the last thirty-six hours.

  “Father Fitzhugh, meet the men of San Francisco PD,” Steve said, not wanting to give away the team’s title. “Inspectors Scot Black, A.J. Miano, Dave Castillo, and Officer Brian Snow. And this is my Captain, John Stanson.”

  Fitzhugh looked them over, then said, “I’m never going to remember all that.”

  Steve gave a quick chuckle. “It’s OK, they’re not riding with us. Mount up, guys. Father, you ride with me and Dad.”

  As Steve climbed into the driver’s seat, Scot turned to the others and said, “Looks like I’ve lost my seat. You guys got room for one more?” Dave smiled and nodded to the SUV.

  John took the shotgun seat, and Drew climbed into the back with his cousin. With Steve in the lead, the SFPD convoy circled around and rolled down the road.

  10

  Deirdre drove them through the town of San Miguel, headed back toward the freeway. According to the map on the brochure she’d seen, the road to this monastery was just under the freeway overpass. What they would do when they arrived, she didn’t yet know. Liam, who she looked to for some leadership and guidance, seemed to be going along with Conner for now. She wasn’t sure this was such a grand idea at the moment. He was letting his thirst for revenge cloud his judgment, and that put them all in danger. She glanced over at the man she’d shared a bed with last night. He wasn’t paying attention to anything right now, lost in his t
houghts as he stared out the window.

  As she approached the freeway overpass, she saw a strange circumstance. Two black SUVs were in the oncoming lane, and as they turned right onto Highway 101, she saw that they were Ford Expeditions, the model most Police Departments were using these days. She let her foot off the gas, in case they were cops—two like that made the possibility a likelihood. But they merged onto the highway and disappeared. She glanced over at Conner again. He hadn’t noticed them. She drove under the overpass and found the road to the monastery.

  In minutes, their SUV rolled up outside the massive stone walls of the monastery. Conner examined those walls as the crew got out of the vehicle. “Devon, Will, check the vineyard,” he motioned to the hillside just visible around the corner of the wall. As Devon and Will hurried away along the wall, he glanced at Liam and Deirdre and nodded toward the door he’d spotted.

  As they walked toward it, Liam said, “What are you going to do, lad?”

  “I’ll just knock on the door and see if anyone’s home.”

  He did just that, hearing the echo as he banged the knocker twice.

  Only seconds passed before the door was opened from within. The man in robes who stood before them, let his eyes go wide with fear and surprise just for an instant before he composed himself. “I am Brother Belton, how can I be of service to you?”

  “You can start by telling me if you’ve had any guests the last two days.”

  Belton appeared to consider the request for a moment. “We are a private institution. Surely you don’t think anyone has shown up on our doorstep—”

  “I surely do, brother.” Conner planted his left palm in the man’s face and pushed him back inside. At the same time, he whipped his pistol out from under his jacket and stepped inside.