Birthright: Pray your past stays hidden (Alex Turner Book 1)

by Richard Blade

  “All right, I’ll get you a medal. You were the white knight today.”

  “Thank you,” said Simon. “And I received the internal memo that you have already launched an investigation into what happened with the Faro flight.”

  “That’s correct. I thought it should be started right away,” confirmed Colin.

  “You certainly didn’t waste any time. And it’s very clever of you to get it going so quickly,” said Simon. “The person who runs the enquiry tends to control the findings. You’re covering your tracks.”

  “Now you’re being cynical, Simon. I wanted to act before the wrong people looked into it and found things they shouldn’t. Is this why you’re calling me?”

  “No,” replied the director of MI5. “I’m still here at Thames House. We’ve had a fix come in on the Americans.”

  Colin sat bolt upright on the couch, “Why didn’t you say so before? Where are they?”

  “On a boat. The license plates we received from the airport cams were picked up multiple times on the M62 to Liverpool. About an hour ago they bought tickets and drove their car onto a ferry bound for Dublin. We have a positive match for their vehicle and confirmed facial recognition on all three from the boarding cameras at the dock. I even have their cabin number. P & O Lines have been very cooperative.”

  “This is great news. They have nowhere to run now.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Simon. “This can be brought to a swift and peaceful end. I can arrange with my people at the AGS to take them at the dock in Dublin, or I can have the ferry held at sea before it enters Irish waters and send a cutter to arrest them.”

  “Wait,” Colin was thinking this through. “I’m not sure either of those options would be our best bet.”

  “Not our best bet? They’re trapped on a boat with no way off! This is the first time we know where they’re going before they get there. We grab them and bring them in without anyone else getting hurt.”

  “It’s not people getting hurt that bothers me,” said Colin coldly, “it’s where they are going. This whole nightmare started with a letter Mary Kelly sent from Ireland and that’s where they are heading now. Do you think it’s a coincidence? I don’t. The professor may have discovered that something is there, a final clue to link the kid with the throne.”

  Colin’s reaction shocked Simon. He was sure he would have wanted them seized immediately, “You told me you destroyed the records of their marriage. Without that, he has nothing now, nothing.”

  “This is not a normal criminal we’re after. It was you who said the guy was a magician. Who knows what he can conjure up? I say we let them leave the ferry and follow them. They find us the last piece of the puzzle, then we take them. But I need your help on this.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s the damn Republic thing they claim in the south. MI6 are only welcome when they call us in for assistance to back them up on a problem they can’t handle alone, like taking out a jihadi there who is stirring up trouble. MI5 is different. You said it yourself, you have people in their AGS, and I bet the SDU too, right?”

  Simon’s silence answered his question.

  “Let’s finish this as a joint op. Do you have any assets in place who can meet the ferry when it docks in Dublin?”

  “Yes, that would not be hard to arrange.”

  “Good. I’ll send you what I need done, and I’ll organize the helicopters for transportation here at Six. You and your teams will travel with me from London. We’ll take off for Dublin tonight and have boots on the ground in Ireland before the boat disembarks.” Without waiting for Simon’s OK, Colin clicked off the call and started making the arrangements.

  Across the river, at Thames House, Simon contemplated MI5’s next move, and buzzed on an internal line for Warren Bracker, his field command officer. It took several rings before the phone was picked up.

  “Bracker here.”

  “Warren, it’s Simon. I know you’ve been working late on this, we all have, but I just got off with Six and gave them the information on the ferry and its passengers.” He paused, “They want to run one more joint op and I think we should comply.”

  Warren Bracker was the most experienced field officer MI5 had ever been fortunate enough to have, and had overseen operations from basic domestic security to hostage rescue, but his voice was puzzled as he replied, “I thought the word was you wanted Five off this case? Force the goons at Six to work with the local police departments from here on out and make Brown coordinate with the Dublin Gardai.”

  “You’re right, I did. In a perfect world that would be the plan, but we both know Six’s methods can be heavy-handed at best and cause as many problems as they solve. And with them running an operation in Ireland, so close to home, someone’s got to watch Colin Brown, and I’m afraid that falls upon us.”

  “I understand, sir. I’ll get the teams together. They’ll be ready to roll in sixty minutes.”

  The line went dead as Warren Bracker started on his assignment of selecting Five’s strike squads and the weaponry they might need.

  The ferry docked on schedule at five thirty in the morning at Dublin’s bustling port. In the enclosed car transport area below decks, four lanes of vehicles waited for the huge bow to raise and the ramp to deploy to allow them to drive off. The drivers and passengers stood patiently beside their cars, knowing it could be a few minutes before they were cleared to go.

  Above them, an Irish voice bellowed from the ship’s P.A. system, echoing along the metal decks, “Welcome to Dublin. If you are arriving here with a vehicle please go down to the transportation decks now and stay with your car. You will be instructed when it is safe to get in and when you can start your engines. You will disembark by lanes, so until your lane number is announced please leave your motors off and remain outside of your vehicles. Thank you.”

  A jovial sailor strolled between two of the car lanes, stopping to answer any of the passengers’ questions. He approached Alex, Cate, and Eddie who stood alongside their Vauxhall Crossland SUV Eddie had appropriated at Manchester’s airport, and greeted them with a rosy-cheeked smile and an endearing Irish lilt in his voice, “We’ll be having the ramp down for you in a few minutes and you’ll be off before you know it. I hope you had a fine crossing.”

  Cate couldn’t help but be charmed by his Irish warmth, “We didn’t hit any icebergs, so that’s a plus.”

  He grinned and patted her on the shoulder, “You’re a funny lass, and we are hardly the Titanic, even though that big boat was built right here in Ireland. Will this be your first time in our beautiful country?”

  “No. It’ll be my third. It’s a great part of the world.”

  “Welcome back. We’re certainly glad you’re returning again to our green island. Have a wonderful holiday.” He waved goodbye to the travelers and walked away towards the stern of the boat. He continued another fifty yards then stepped out of the line of parked cars and raised a concealed microphone to his mouth, “The tracker is in place and planted on the girl.”

  The cars and trucks slowly exited the massive ferry. The white Vauxhall SUV followed the line of vehicles down the ramp and to a checkpoint more interested in receiving the three Euro entry payment than examining IDs. The wooden arm raised, the green light flashed on, and Eddie rolled cautiously forward where he was greeted by a sign reading, Welcome to the Republic of Ireland, Don’t Forget To Drive On The Left.

  “Got it?” asked Cate.

  “Got it,” replied Eddie.

  He kept a respectfully slow pace through the port and as they pulled onto Route 148, none of them noticed the innocuous stretched Ford Transit van parked there.

  Had they been able to see through the Turbo Diesel’s silver exterior, they would have been shocked at the amount of technology crammed inside, manned by four people in the relatively cramped, but efficiently laid out mobile command center of the SDU – Special Detective Unit – of the Republic of Ireland.

  The first technician turned from his scre
en and spoke to the two partner agents from London, “We have a good signal lock. The targets are moving and leaving the Dublin docks now.”

  Colin nodded in approval, “How about ground assets?”

  A second tech operator provided the answer, “We have two on them at all times, alternating between your MI5 teams and our local squads from the AGS. We’ve set up an invisible tail as requested, switching every ten minutes. We also have air cover, from our drones and your helicopter. As of now, they are heading west on R 148, possibly making for the M7.”

  “M7? Where does that go?” questioned Simon.

  “If they get on the M7, it’ll take them south west. It ends at Limerick.”

  Colin grabbed Simon’s attention and lowered his voice, “Mary sent the letter from Limerick.”

  They had been driving for two hours, and the village of Castleconnell was three miles behind them when Cate recognized the surroundings and told Eddie to turn on an unpaved country lane, “It’s down here. Another couple of minutes.”

  Eddie complied, and as he felt gravel and dirt replace the motorway’s tarmac beneath his wheels and took in the verdant green pastures around them, he grinned, “I don’t see anything but grass and cows.”

  “You will,” she smiled.

  Sure enough, after the next corner, a farmhouse came into view, its thatched roof and whitewashed walls glistening in the sun. Eddie pulled to a stop outside of it.

  “This is ridiculous,” he exclaimed. “It looks like a Disney movie. All we need now are the seven dwarfs.”

  “That would be seven leprechauns, here in Ireland!” Cate joked, pleased at his reaction.

  Before Alex could join the upbeat conversation, the front door of the farmhouse opened and a buxom, smiling lady appeared and strolled up to the car, “Good day to you. Are you lost or will you be looking for bed-and-breakfast?”

  Cate jumped out of the passenger seat of the SUV where she had been giving directions and ran to the woman with her arms outstretched, “That’s exactly what we’re looking for, Sally O’Grady. Particularly your breakfasts!”

  Sally froze in happy shock, then gave Cate the welcoming bear hug of her life, “Oh bejesus, if it ain’t our Caitlin back to visit. Let me look at you, with your new hair-do and so skinny. You could use some of my breakfasts, love. Don’t they feed you in America?”

  Cate laughed aloud, “You know I eat plenty, Sally. I left with a muffin top the last time I was here! These are my friends, Alex and Eddie.”

  Sally greeted each of them with a warm smile, “Lovely to meet you both. Now come on in, won’t you? I’ll put the kettle on for a spot of tea.”

  Alex and Eddie followed Cate and Sally, who were locked arm in arm and chatting nonstop, into the quaint farmhouse for a taste of Irish hospitality.

  Less than a mile away, pulled over on the M7, the Transit van acting as the mobile command center, checked and rechecked the signal.

  “They’ve definitely stopped, sir,” said the tech. “Our maps show a farm where they are.”

  “Right,” said Colin. “Pull back the teams. We’ll wait here and watch. Put a drone up and get some aerial information.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  The weather that helped Ireland earn the deserved nickname of The Emerald Isle was, for once, cooperating. There was no rain, and the night was clear, forming a canopy of stars hanging overhead.

  The farmhouse had become the center for entertainment in Castleconnell that evening. After a hurried conversation with her husband, Patrick, Sally decided the appropriate thing to do to welcome Caitlin back to County Limerick was to throw a party in her honor. It had only taken a couple of phone calls to spread the word, and almost half the village turned out to eat, drink, and celebrate the return of one of their favorite people.

  A bonfire roared in the garden, three hand-pumped kegerators sat in large tubs of ice to ensure the beers flowed cold and non-stop, and two fiddle players battled each other to be the fastest musicians in the land. Their exciting musical duel was heating up, and dozens of enthusiastic villagers, unable to resist the wild tempo, danced to the traditional tunes in the fire’s light.

  Eddie stood watching the locals letting their hair down and enjoying the moment without any inhibitions, and felt himself relax for the first time in days, “These are my kind of people. They’re having a blast and not worrying what others think of them.”

  Before Alex or Cate could respond, a pretty teenage local girl ran across the grass to Eddie and grabbed his hand, “Come on, you must have a dance,” and pulled him out to join the partying crowd.

  Cate turned to Alex, “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Back home in Wisconsin, we struggle and work and rush all day, every day, trying to get ahead, but are we ever as happy as these people are, right here, right now?”

  “That’s a fair question, but we have little time for philosophy. We will have to go soon, tomorrow or the day after. We’ve got to keep moving until we can find somewhere safe to be, where we can stay for a while.”

  “I know. But while we’re here can we at least enjoy it?”

  “We can try.”

  “Then dance with me.” Cate held out her hand.

  Alex took a step back, “I don’t dance.”

  A voice from behind contradicted him, “Nonsense. You’re in God’s country now. Everybody dances here. Saying you don’t dance is like saying you don’t breathe. Get yourself out there.”

  Sally gave him a good-natured push and Cate completed the move by wrapping her hand around the professor’s wrist and pulling him onto the lawn.

  In seconds, Cate and Alex were ringed by people singing the traditional Gaelic song and clapping to the beat. Cate picked up on the rhythm and urged Alex to follow her lead. She linked her arm through his and started into the twirling, high-stepping dance all the villagers seemed to know so well.

  Reluctantly at first, he tried to keep up, then found himself dancing and spinning with the music as he attempted to match Cate’s energy. Even though his moves and footwork were far from perfect, he laughed as he realized he was having fun. For a few minutes at least, he let their problems disappear from his mind.

  His mood would have changed had he known that three hundred yards away, on the ridge of a hilltop overlooking the farm and its rolling pastures, Colin Brown lay watching him through a set of night-vision binoculars. As the MI6 agent took in the enhanced low-light, green image of the professor circling the fire with his prodigy, Caitlin Shannon, he whispered to himself, “Dance while you can.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Riddle

  Alex was surprised how late he’d slept in. Normally his internal clock had him awake before the dawn, but today, when he rolled over and saw how high the sun was in the sky, he knew it was long past that. He checked his watch and found it hard to believe it was a few minutes before eight. Feeling guilty, he sprung out of bed and hurried into the shower to prepare for the day.

  When he walked into the sunny front room of the three-century-old farmhouse he was greeted by not only the smiles of his friends and the warmth of the O’Grady family already seated around the loaded dining table, but by the delicious aroma of a full Irish breakfast made with local eggs, rashers of bacon, home-grown tomatoes, beans, and toast, carved from freshly-baked bread.

  “The learned man is up,” laughed Patrick. “Take a seat. We’ll get you a hot cup of tea. I just brewed one.” He reached for the teapot and poured Alex a steaming mug, “That is unless you would want a coffee. I could go to the kitchen and put some on for you.”

  “Tea is perfect, thank you.”

  “We were asking young Caitlin what brings her back to our little piece of heaven, when you came in,” explained Sally. “So, what is it, dear?”

  At first, Cate was a little unsure of what to say and answered simply, “It was a letter.”

  “A letter?” Sally gave her a knowing wink, “From a local boy, no doubt. There’s no denying it, Caitlin Shannon, the last time
you were here you broke some hearts.”

  “No, it was not to me. It was written by a woman named Mary who sent it from Limerick over a century ago.”

  Sally wrinkled her weathered brow, “Now you are talking riddles, lass.”

  “I suppose in a way I am. The letter was kind of a riddle, but our professor solved it.”

  “Not all of it,” said Alex.

  “Then what was it that stumped you? I love riddles,” said Patrick.

  “Every Irishmen does,” confirmed Sally.

  “All right. One part of the letter was about Mary coming back to Ireland. She wrote her husband came here to see her and their son at Dara’s. But we could never find out who Dara was.”

  “Well, that’s where you went wrong,” Patrick had no hesitation helping Alex with this, “Dara’s not a person. Dara’s a place.”

  “I don’t want to be rude, but I did think of that,” answered Alex. “I studied the maps of County Limerick and the entire district, and there is no Dara. I even went back and pulled maps from one hundred and fifty years ago, and then extended the search to take in all of Ireland, North and South, and Dara doesn’t show up. Which means it had to have been someone’s name.”

  Sally chuckled, “You wasted all that time when we could have given you the answer with one phone call.”

  “My wife’s right. We’d have told you about Adare. The prettiest little village anywhere in Ireland, some say the entire world. We locals call it Dara, from its old Gaeilge name, Ath Dara, so unless you had a hand-drawn Gaeilge map, you’d never find that magical place. And it’s less than twenty minutes from here. When the troubles were going on my....group used to meet there.”

  Patrick’s words caught Eddie’s attention, “You were in a group? Cool. What music did you play?”

  Sally and Patrick exchanged a sly glance before Patrick answered, “It wasn’t that kind of group, lad. A lot of the men you met last night at the party were in it with me, but it’s mostly behind us now.”