The Dublin Hit

by J E Higgins

  “It’s her,” Talamadge’s voice caught everyone by surprise.

  “Who?” Glenahaughan asked with the tone of a child being left out of the big kid’s game.

  18

  Sauwa could feel Rena struggling in her arms. The little girl had wanted to be free of her sister since they had gotten in the back of the truck. Sauwa held her baby sister firmly not wanting to let go out of fear she would be lost if they suddenly had to escape. In the darkness, she could hear the sobs of the other terrified women and girls as they hunkered down. The only sight she could make out was the silhouette of the two men standing guard at the back of the vehicle. Their weapons were held firmly in their hands ready to fight at any moment.

  “I want mommy,” Rena whined.

  Sauwa had no means to respond. How could she tell her that her mother was dead? She tightened her arms around her combative little sister and attempted to rock her to sleep. Then, she saw the flash of light hitting the end of the truck and the terrifying growl of the explosion that followed. She pressed Rena’s face into her chest as she watched one of the men clutch his chest and fall forward onto the road below. The other guard had drawn his weapon and began returning fire. Another burst hit. It was. It came crashing down close enough to lift the back of the truck that left all the occupants in pain.

  Sauwa woke to see the face of a thin, elderly man looking at her with an expression of concern. “Are you all right, Lassie?” he asked pleasantly.

  “Yes, yes I am,” she replied nervously as she sought to get her bearings. Lifting herself from the sofa she had been sleeping on, she took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. She found her shirt soaked in the usual cold sweat that was common after a nightmare. She looked around the small coffee shop as she struggled to gain her faculties and remember where she was. Anxious to find a place to get out of sight, she had stepped into a small bookshop. With the crisis over, her adrenaline high had begun to dissipate, leaving her drained of energy. She found a refuge and was lulled into a deep sleep.

  The old man was still looking at her with concern. “You looked like you were having one serious nightmare little one.”

  “How long was I out?” she asked.

  “You came in here about five hours ago,” he replied as he helped her finish sitting upright. “You looked at some classic books for a few minutes before you sat down and fell asleep. You looked completely worn out. I haven’t had any customers, so I just let you sleep. It was when I heard you calling out that I started to get concerned.”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” she said as she gradually moved to stand up.

  “Are you sure?” the old man pressed. “I mean, if you need to, you can continue to rest here. You looked like you needed the sleep.”

  “No, thank you. I need to get moving.” She gently waved the old man off as she started out the door.

  The apartment complex where Banker maintained his secret office may have been a good location to hide from prying criminals who dealt with the seedier side of town. However, it offered little in the way of good security from a more professional threat. The vegetation surrounding the estate had grown to almost jungle-like levels with thick, leafy bushes that had not been trimmed. Trees grew too close together and had many low-hanging branches providing a thick wall of concealment. They also provided the ability for someone to navigate the perimeter of the entire estate. Most of the parking lot dipped into various side streets remaining hidden from view making it easy to ambush someone without a lot of eyes watching or ways to escape.

  Sauwa remained hidden in the bushes, just outside the complex where Banker kept his apartment. The setup of the complex was such, that she had no trouble finding a favorable vantage point allowing her to see anyone entering from either direction. She had no guarantee that he would show up anytime soon, if at all. Short of risking herself by going to the Rory Club, this was her best avenue. It had been dusk when she had arrived and snuck inconspicuously into the bushes. Now, it was sundown and, as darkness fell, the street lamps and the open shops became the only source of illumination.

  It had been nearly two hours when she caught sight of Banker hustling into the apartment complex. Slipping out of the bushes without disrupting the vegetation or drawing attention, Sauwa came out into a shadowed patch in the parking lot. Rising to her feet she began walking toward the door Banker had just gone through. In her head, she played out three possible scenarios: 1) Banker had anticipated she would come looking for him at his apartment and called the police in hopes they would apprehend her. 2) Banker came as a decoy to draw her out for another hit team to make an attempt against her. Looking around, she saw no one in the distance or any vehicles that suggested such an idea. 3) Banker may indeed be on the level and had nothing to do with the intruders at the warehouse.

  Banker had gone into the complex with no sign of any additional people nearby. Confident she was safe to move, Sauwa crept to the entrance Banker had entered. Opening the door, she slid in to find Banker standing alone down the short hall waiting for the elevator. Moving slowly, she drew back her coat and produced a long, sharp piece of metal she had procured from one of the scrap buckets at another warehouse. She made her way down the hall, keeping watch for any possible surprises. Less than a few feet away, she drew the weapon she had kept low to her side to avoid attracting immediate attention.

  Banker suddenly felt a sharp object against his spine. At first, he thought it a muscle spasm or some nervous system anomaly. But, the sharp tightness grinding into his back told him this was something different.

  “My knife is pressed against your lower spinal cord,” a feminine voice he recognized said. “If you attempt anything you’ll be paralyzed from the waist down in seconds before you can strike me.” Her voice was cold and serious.

  Not wanting to exacerbate the situation, Banker stepped forward with his hand away from his pockets. The elevator opened, revealing an empty compartment. With a nudge, she nudged him inside. They turned simultaneously so he could face the control panel. Pressing his floor, the doors were about to shut when a striking blond woman came darting in. Her hands were full of some shopping bags. “Oh, thank you,” the blond said with a tired sigh as she leaned over to catch her breath.

  Feeling the sharp object grind warningly into his back, Banker only nodded as he returned the pleasantry. The blond woman hardly took notice as she seemed lost in her own world.

  “Could you press the second floor, please?” she asked.

  Banker obliging smiled as he pressed the button for the second floor. The elevator doors finally closed with the low vibrating hum of the car going up. The blond hardly took notice of the young girl standing in the corner behind the handsome man. The car reached the second floor. The doors opened, and the woman disappeared out into the hall.

  After a few seconds, the doors closed again, leaving Banker and Sauwa alone. “What’s this all about?” he demanded. His tone was angry and confused. His anger was further exacerbated by the woman’s dead silence and tightening of her weapon against his back. The doors opened at his floor and with a sharp jab, Sauwa directed Banker outside. They walked down the hall slowly trying not to draw any attention. Banker thought about calling for help and running. But, between the blade and her hand held firmly onto his belt to ensure he didn’t try anything, he understood his best option was to cooperate. If she had wanted him dead, she could have killed him more easily downstairs, or outside where she could have gotten away.

  Arriving at the door of his apartment, he carefully reached into his coat pocket for his key. One bad move would have meant death or a wheelchair. Unlocking the door, he no sooner had it open when she pushed him forcefully inside. He heard the door shut, leaving them alone.

  Sauwa looked Banker over. Assessing the location, she saw nothing that assumed recent occupation. Satisfied the apartment was empty, she relaxed a little. “Tell me about the hit team.” she snapped.

  Confused, Banker’s head shook, “Hit team? What hit team?”<
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  “The one at the warehouse today.” Her voice was low and calm, but her seething anger was all too apparent. “Some very dangerous men paid me a visit this afternoon. At my safe house, no less. They came looking for someone with the intent to do unkind things. They came looking for me.”

  “I know what you may be thinking,” Banker began, choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t know anything about a hit team. I certainly didn’t sell you out.”

  “I know,” she cut in. “If you had you wouldn’t have warned me about the IRA poking around. You would have just told them about me and stayed far away. You would have kept your ear to the ground wanting to know the outcome. You certainly wouldn’t have come back here when you found out they were all dead and I was gone ─ not alone anyway,

  Banker’s face displayed a look of confusion. “So, why have you accosted me like this, if you didn’t think I set you up.”

  “Because,” Sauwa looked at him coldly, “you were the only one who knew where I was staying. The people in the neighborhood are out of the way. There is no other avenue in which they could have been tipped off about me. It all points back to you. Who did you talk to?”

  Unsure of what to say and aware his life may very well end at any moment, Banker raced through his memory trying to think where he could have made such an egregious mistake. The only thought that came to mind was his meeting with the IRA enforcers. “Cork Regan, a strong arm for the IRA, dropped by asking questions. I didn’t tell him anything, and I sure as hell didn’t take him to you. All I can think is he must have followed me or made a logical deduction and went from there.”

  Satisfied with the answer, Sauwa lowered her weapon. “Well, I tangled with about five men; they looked like enforcer types. They appeared to be led by a big fellow.”

  “Sounds like Cork and his boys,” Banker explained. “You obviously got away. But Regan’s dangerous and determined; he has connections all over the city. If he’s still after you, Dublin’s definitely not safe anymore.”

  “He’s dead. They all are.” Sauwa’s tone was cold and firm.

  Banker dropped to his knees at hearing that Regan was dead. It certainly wasn’t sympathy that drove this reaction. It was shock. Regan was a dangerous man. To hear that he was dispatched along with his crew was difficult to comprehend. That it was done by a young girl was even more unbelievable. It also made him realize fully who he was dealing with at this particular moment. He had worried about this girl and played the odds between her and the IRA. It turned out he had backed the right side. He also comprehended fully that this little girl was much more dangerous than she appeared. “If you don’t think I set you up, what was it with the knife to the back?” He asked looking at the menacing steel object in her hand.

  “A man like you survives by playing the odds,” she responded. “You informed me about the IRA but didn’t tell me about your entire discussion with these guys. My guess is you calculated the situation and decided that it would, in the long run, be very dangerous to cross me. You tried to navigate both sides as best you could and try not to be a liability to me or be punished by them. I figured you would have assumed I was coming after you, once you heard about the shootout. You had either gone to the police to turn me in or taken your chances with the IRA and gave them a second chance to come after me. I wasn’t going to take any chances either.”

  “So, what now?” Banker felt strangely out of his league at the moment. “I mean if you killed five men like you say, the coppers will be all over this by now.”

  “The IRA will be. too,” Sauwa cautioned. “And, they’ll be the real danger.”

  Banker was confused. “You just killed one of their top operators. I’m sure they’ll think twice before striking again so soon.”

  Sauwa shook her head with a cold, deadpan look on her face. “I got lucky this time. They sent street enforcers to get me not professional operators. That was because they underestimated what they were up against, and it gave me the edge. After this, they’ll know what they’re dealing with. Who they send next won’t be gangsters. I assume it will be an Action Service Unit. They won’t make the same mistake twice.”

  Banker cringed at her words. An Action Service Unit, an actual IRA commando team wasn’t the street tough heavies he was accustomed to dealing with. These guys were the real deal. Highly trained, these people carried out missions against Protestant Loyalist paramilitaries, RUC police and the British security forces. All at once, it became apparent to the club owner just how deep he was in this situation. “With all this heat surrounding you, are you sure they’ll really escalate this?”

  The woman sighed. “There’s no need to be secretive anymore. I killed a ranking intelligence officer with the Irish Garda. A man the Loyalists believed was serving as a key intelligence source for the IRA. By eliminating him, I virtually crippled their intelligence system and operations against Loyalist activities in the Republic. In addition, I just killed five of their men. No, if anything, finding me will become a priority.”

  “Shit sakes!” Banker exclaimed. “If that’s true and Regan was on to me, he probably reported his suspicions to his bosses. After this, they’ll know I was the one helping you.”

  “It’s not safe for you in Ireland,” Sauwa cut in. “Not now. It was a horrific gunfight at the warehouse. One that ended in a bloodbath. By tomorrow it will be all over the news if it hasn’t already gotten back to the IRA.”

  “I know it’s not in my best interest to bring this up right now,” Banker leaned against the wall. “Why do you not believe I wouldn’t try to save my own ass and turn you over to them?”

  For the first time, the cold look on Sauwa’s face changed into a smile. “Because you have no angle to play with them. After this, you’re a dead man no matter what. If you try to make a deal, they’ll kill you once they’ve got me. If I get caught, you run the risk that I’ll have enough information to help them eventually find you. Then, there is the police who will make all of this a big priority. Your only play is to try and get out of the country. Since you have given me the information for my escape and all has been arranged, it’s in both our interests to see I get on that ship and out of the country safely.”

  She was right; he was trapped. Either way, he was a dead man or one destined for prison. “Well, your ship leaves tomorrow night. We just have to keep you under wraps until then. But, I can’t get you a new safe house, not now. Between the cops and the IRA, I have nothing that wouldn’t be discovered quickly.”

  “I’m staying right here tonight,” Sauwa stated, making it clear the issue was not open for discussion. “So are you. In the morning, I’ll leave and find somewhere else to go to ground until it’s time to meet at the pier. I suggest you don’t go back to work and spend tomorrow transferring assets to whatever fallback location you have set up. We’ll meet at the pier an hour before my departure.”

  “What makes you think I won’t double cross you and leave you stranded?” Banker couldn’t help being inquisitive.

  Walking past him down the narrow hallway, Sauwa responded. “Those who hired me picked you because you play it straight in your dealings. Even in this dark hour, I don’t believe you would be any different. Besides, those who employed me to kill the informant did so to distance themselves. My getting caught automatically connects them to the killing. They have a huge vested interest in getting me out of the country. Do you really want to have more enemies after you with a distant reach and a penchant for violence?”

  With nothing more to say, she headed into what looked like a spare room, leaving Banker to digest all that had just happened.

  19

  After having explained to Glenahaughan about the ghostly female assassin who now had the combined intelligence and law enforcement agencies of three countries involved, the bald detective took quick notice of a recently discovered long black hair found in the shower area. It hadn’t been there long in a warehouse that hadn’t been active in months. He eagerly contacted Youngest and his
foreign colleagues.

  The report of having a possible suspect in the killing of Detective Marston Donovan was well received given the pressure the department had been under ─ not just by Youngest. The announcement that the killer may, in fact, be an internationally wanted assassin and had actually killed five known IRA members in a spectacular shootout whetted the interest of Commander Ian Rose. Ever the politician and media whore, he salivated with alacrity. The idea he was currently commanding what was turning into a case with such international ramifications was mind-blowing.

  His subordinate, Detective Sergeant Youngest, watched his superior calculate the political capital to be gained from such an event ─ a case that had become a joint effort with two other countries and was supposed to be a secret operation. The idea of having a highly sought after professional killer be a suspect and wanted by both Britain and South African governments was too enticing to simply pass up.

  His commander was talking about how he had convinced the top brass they should hold a press conference, address the newspapers and enjoy the moment. Youngest was cautioning him to the contrary; however, Rose blatantly ignored him. The idea his department could be the agency apprehending this person would be the pinnacle of his career and perhaps garner world attention. For Rose, there was a massive opportunity, and he was determined to exploit it as much as possible.

  Youngest reminded his superior of the sensitivity of the case. He stressed they would be working with foreign intelligence agencies who were assisting with sensitive information. This affair needed to be handled with delicacy.

  The respective governments agreed that the existence of Sauwa Catcher could be publicly disclosed, as it was already a matter of record for the British police. The British were forwarding existing information on Sauwa Catcher from their records plus photos and her recorded fingerprints sent to them from South Africa’s state archives. Unfortunately, the photos were all black and white, so grainy, and dated they were almost useless. Youngest hoped she’d been at the warehouse long enough, they might be able to obtain some fresh, viable prints.