by Ted Tayler
Phoenix assessed his surroundings. Twelve miles to negotiate on foot would be a bind. Walking at night near main roads was dangerous, and likely to attract attention. Even if the Garda only stopped to ask if he needed a lift anywhere, it was still a meeting he wished to avoid. He found shelter in the ranks of trees. He rested for two hours. An hour before sunrise he made his way through the estate grounds until he reached the boundary.
Phoenix called Fintan O’Sullivan. The rough sound of his voice told him he had disturbed the Irishman’s beauty sleep.
“Fintan, it’s Phoenix. Sorry, it’s so early mate, but can you collect me? I’m a few hundred yards from the junction to the M50, from M11. I’m in Shanganagh Park, the Community Centre, near the front gate.”
“I’ll be with you by sunrise, Phoenix,”
At five minutes after six, Phoenix decided to set off towards the main road There was no traffic passing; so, he scaled the wrought-iron fence and trotted along the grass verge. A car passed him, swung around in the gateway to the Park and came back to pick him up. It was Fintan.
“Top of the morning, Fintan,” said Phoenix.
“Bollocks,” replied his fellow agent. “I’ve missed my breakfast coming out here to collect you. We’re off to the Pantry, for one of the best Irish breakfasts in the city. They open at half seven in Talbot Street. You’re buying.”
Phoenix didn’t complain. At least he wasn’t walking or hitching a lift into the city. His driver had one of those faces with something a bit off wherever you looked. His nose had been broken at least once. There was a small white scar above his top lip. He had one brown eye and one green eye. And when he turned his head towards him, Phoenix noticed his right ear stuck out, while his left ear lay flat to his head. His dark brown hair curled over the collar of his jacket. Fintan O’Sullivan was in his mid-thirties, and even Phoenix had to admit; the man was devilishly handsome,
“The nearest internet café to the restaurant is two minutes’ walk away; so, it’s ideally situated,” Fintan said. “When we’re ready to face the day, we’ll get online. I can talk with the ice-house, tell them you’ve arrived safe and sound, and get an update on chummy. Then I’ll check in with the others. They should be closing the net on your man.”
“The sooner the better,” said Phoenix.
“Not for him,” grinned Fintan. He was wide awake now.
They drove into the city and parked the car. A steady stroll brought them to the door of the Pantry, as the sign was turned to ‘Open’.
“Perfect timing,” said Fintan, “two breakfasts; and I take my coffee black.”
Phoenix ordered their meals and drinks. He recalled the ‘heart-attack on a plate’ offerings he had eaten with Frankie and Billy on the Scottish leg of the Maiden’s Hair tour. He couldn’t believe four years had passed. Those meals were transport café specials; but today, when their plates arrived, they ate in silence, in deference to the quality of the food.
“That was great,” said Phoenix, as he finished his cup of coffee.
“It was almost worth being woken up at such an ungodly hour,” said Fintan.
He was out of his chair and walking towards the door. Phoenix reluctantly paid the bill and hurried after him. The internet café was indeed only a few doors further along Talbot Street. Fintan was already sat at a terminal by the time Phoenix walked through the door. Typical of these establishments; nobody looked up from their screen.
Phoenix sat beside his colleague.
“What’s the latest?”
“I’m still waiting for the ice-house to respond. My contacts in the Republic are progressing towards Dublin. So far, none of them has found hide nor hair of your man. If he’s left Dublin, then he’s hidden way deeper than we would prefer.”
“It’s likely that he’s planning to stay in, or near the capital, to carry on the same business operation he had in the UK.”
Fintan nodded.
“Paddy Power has stopped taking bets,” he said.
“Giles and the ice-house can’t track CCTV from here as easily as they can on the mainland,” said Phoenix. “Can you track Krishnan’s whereabouts from here?”
“Keep it quiet. It might seem nobody gives a shit what you’re up to in here, but when I search for clues, my methods might be construed as illegal. It’s better not to raise anyone’s unwanted interest.”
“Point taken,” said Phoenix.
“Giles is ready to deliver the goods,” said Fintan.
Fintan and Phoenix viewed the images transmitted from Larcombe Manor. Arjun Krishan was pictured leaving the ferry. Artemis has trawled through the hotels near the terminal, without luck. Giles had discovered Dr Krishnan had booked into a hotel a mile from Croke Park for five nights. He was probably finishing breakfast.
“Our work’s nearly done, Phoenix,” said Fintan. “Sure it’s only a ten-minute stroll to the other side of the Liffey.”
“Krishnan’s a slippery customer, Fintan, we had better confirm that he actually stayed there last night. He’s not short of euros. He could afford to make a booking, or two, to throw us off the scent. Call the hotel. Ask to speak to him. Try to get the room number out of them. If he is there, I’ll call around to leave my calling card.”
Fintan called the hotel.
“Could I speak to Dr Arjun Krishnan, please? We studied medicine together; I understand he stayed with you last night?”
“Just one moment, sir,” said the young man on reception. “I’m sorry, there’s no reply from his room. The doctor must have stepped out.”
“And which room would that be? I’d love to catch up with him again; to talk over old times. If you’re still working later when I drop by, I’ll give you something for your help.”
“Room 208, sir. Be sure to ask for Gerard.”
Fintan ended the call. He returned to the laptop. Phoenix was always in awe of the dexterity, and inventiveness of those that excelled with computers. His own abilities were far better than they were when he left for Africa with Sue Owens; but as he watched Fintan, he realised that he was a relative novice.
“What am I looking at?” Phoenix asked his colleague, as what looked like a map with several blinking red dots had appeared on the screen.
“My colleagues have GPS trackers in their Olympus vehicles. This is their current position. Those that travelled from Kerry, Newcastle, and Galway couldn’t check much last night. Since early this morning, they’ve been working their way towards us. You can tell from the screen, they have perhaps two to three hours to go before they can finish sweeping the path they’re following. We could have located your man at that time. The closest operative is Brendan Connery.”
“Where did he set out from?” asked Phoenix.
“Naas,” replied Fintan. “I’ll call him and bring him here. If Krishnan has slipped away, then I can re-direct the remaining agents to sweep the areas Brendan’s not reached yet.”
“Fair enough; check whether Krishnan has returned to the hotel. If he has, stay there, and follow him if he leaves. It’s far too public a place to kill him there. If he’s still in the city on foot, then we need to search nearby. I’ll take on that task. When Brendan arrives, he can take your place inside the hotel. You’ll be more valuable to us, here, with your computer skills. While you’re away, I can identify commercial property for sale or rent, that might suit his purpose. Show me quickly, how to start on that, and you can get away.”
Fintan found the necessary links. Phoenix had to tell him to take it slow, so he could make idiot notes, but after two minutes he reckoned he was set to go.
“I’ll be off to the hotel,” said Fintan. “You paid for breakfast, so I’d better stump up twenty euros for Gerard, I suppose.”
“I thought it was the Scots who were tight,” said Phoenix, shaking his head.
With a wave, Fintan left. Phoenix began his search for possible sites that might attract Krishnan. Where would the vain women of Dublin find attractive, if a clinic opened on the outskirts of the c
ity? He narrowed the search to modern office space, slightly off the beaten track. Premises that allowed them to slip in and out for cosmetic procedures; without too many noses being poked into their business.
Phoenix had an impressive list in no time. His phone rang. It was Fintan. It had cost him fifty euros to discover that Krishnan was not due back for hours. Gerard had been persuaded to inform him that a hire car had arrived at eight o’clock, and the doctor had driven away.
“Did you get the car hire firm, and the make and model?” asked Phoenix.
“It was an Avis compact,” said Fintan, “I’m heading back now. I’ll check the main routes out of the city, to see if we can find where he’s headed.”
Phoenix continued his own search. His attention was drawn to one advert. It wasn’t in an office block, or on an industrial estate. It was a two-storey house, with a large ground-floor extension to the rear. The house was in need of modernisation and priced accordingly.
“Now that looks perfect,” muttered Phoenix, “do it up, live on the premises, and turn the extension into a beauty clinic. That part of the building is totally shielded from the road. Unless you knew it was there, anyone driving by would think it was just a private dwelling. Exactly what both Dr Death and his clients want; exclusivity.”
Fintan was back from the hotel. Phoenix showed him the advert. He took over control of the laptop.
“Brendan’s in the car park up the road, by the way. He’ll be with us in two minutes. That house is in Shanklin,” he said nodding at the image on the screen “a half-hour from where I fetched you at the crack of dawn. We’ll access the CCTV cameras on the roads leading to Shanklin and see if we can confirm that’s where Krishnan headed. Although, there might be quite a few hire cars on the road on a Saturday morning.”
Phoenix looked at the clock on the laptop. Amazing how time slipped through your fingers like grains of sand. What if he was wrong? What if Krishnan was headed further west? The agents who were closing the net, as they drew ever closer to the city, weren’t to know their target was in a car.
“Just in case I’ve picked the wrong property to home in on, can you ask the other agents to look out for an Avis compact?”
“Will do,” said Fintan, not taking his eyes off the screen, “ah, here’s Brendan, coming through the door now.”
Phoenix shook the agent by the hand. Brendan Connery was short, stocky, and with a mop of unruly black curly hair. Brendan’s clothes looked as though they had been slept in and they probably had.
“Surely, it must be coffee o’clock, Fintan? I’ve got a throat on me like a bear’s armpit.” Their fellow agent announced his arrival in a voice so loud, it caused a few people working close by to look up, and leave Brendan in no doubt they preferred the library-like hush that had existed until a minute earlier. Brendan didn’t notice.
“We’ll get ourselves a drink in a moment, and drink it on the run,” said Fintan, “if I’m not mistaken, this is your man driving through Kimmage. I think you hit the nail on the head, Phoenix. Krishnan is planning to ‘work from home’ as they say. His customers would appear to be paying a friend or relative a social visit. Something of only passing interest to the curtain-twitchers. The nosy neighbours might take more notice if they knew he was injecting stuff in peoples’ arses that might kill them.”
Fintan suddenly closed the laptop and jumped up from his chair.
“Let’s get moving then lads,” he cried, “there are great coffees in a shop on the corner. We’ll collect the cars and head for Shanklin.”
“What about the others?” asked Phoenix, hurrying after two Irishmen, who were already out of the door.
“I ordered them to stand by and await further orders,” said Fintan, “didn’t you see the message I sent? It’s not just women who can multi-task, Phoenix. Don’t let them know, though; best to let them believe they have a monopoly in one skill at least.”
“You’re not married are you, Fintan?” Phoenix asked.
“Sure, why would I be married? There are so many women out there; it would be a crime to disappoint them by tying myself to one poor girl. Look around you, Phoenix, aren’t the women here in Dublin the most beautiful in the world? Did you see the look that fair-skinned beauty gave as she brushed past me?”
Brendan laughed out loud.
“Your first time in the city, Phoenix?”
“My first time in Ireland.”
“There’s a large park, two miles up the road, created in the seventeenth century, with your name on it, did you know?”
Phoenix had to admit that he didn’t. They had arrived at the coffee shop. As they walked towards the car park in Lower Abbey Street sipping their hot drinks, Fintan was still girl-watching.
“You don’t wear a ring, Phoenix. So, you are a single man too. Why not grab yourself a girl and take her to the park? Wander among the trees. Lie beside her on the grass. As she looks deep into your eyes, tell her my name is Phoenix, all this is mine to give you, for your heart,”
“You’d be onto a winner every time, Phoenix,” cried Fintan. Both the Irish agents laughed until they reached the car park.
Phoenix knew they didn’t know he and Athena were getting married two weeks today. It was a closely guarded secret. The two reminded him of Bazza and Thommo in the armoury. The humour was a defence mechanism. Olympus agents in the field could put their life on the line with every mission. Phoenix admired the men who walked beside him. He was confident if things got tough today, they would be good men to have by his side.
Fintan steered his car down the ramps and away from the multi-storey. Brendan followed two cars behind them. They headed for Shanklin.
Phoenix called Giles.
“We’ve identified a probable site Krishnan is planning to purchase in Shanklin. He’s there now. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Giles summarised the latest information they had from the ice-house. He had nothing relevant to the situation in Ireland. Phoenix was watching the road signs signalling they were closing on their destination.
“Pass the usual message on to Athena, Giles. It won’t be long now. This job should be tidied up in the next hour or two. I’ll ring for the chopper pilot for my lift home later. I should be in Cardiff by half-past ten. Contact the transport department and organise a car, if you would please.”
“Consider it done, Phoenix,” Giles said and ended the call.
Fintan drove into Shanklin and found the premises. He parked on the side of the road twenty yards past the turning. Brendan swung his car in front of them, parked and strolled to join them.
A muddy dirt track led through open fields to the house which stood fifty yards from the road. At the rear of the property stood a dense line of trees stretching at least one hundred yards in each direction. There was only one car parked in front of the garage to the left-hand side.
“Avis compact,” he said, “he’s still here. Brendan, block the entrance behind us, to cut off his escape. The approach is too open; he’s certain to spot us. If he waits until we’ve reached the end of the drive, he might make a dash for it. We must avoid a car chase. Or the need to do the deed in the open. Okay, let’s go inside.”
Fintan turned the car around and drove up the dirt track. There was no movement from inside the house. Brendan blocked the entrance with his car. He closed his eyes; this was the type of operation he enjoyed.
Phoenix removed his weapons from his bag, fitted the silencer to his Sig Sauer, and nodded to Fintan. They got out of the car. Fintan went to the front door. Phoenix made his way around the right-hand side of the house, checking the windows. Krishnan was not in the lounge or the kitchen. He could be upstairs; or in the rear extension, planning the layout of his lethal clinic.
Fintan rang the bell. There was no answer. He tried the door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open, standing to one side, even though there was no evidence Arjun Krishnan was ever armed. It was a habit. He edged inside the hallway; and cleared each room downstairs, methodicall
y. The house had been unoccupied for a while. Only a few scraps of furniture remained. Fintan reached the door that separated the main house from the large single-storey extension. His hand reached for the handle.
His phone rang. In the silence that surrounded him, its loud ringtone startled him.
“Jesus, Phoenix, that scared the shit out of me.”
“We’ve got a problem,” said Phoenix quietly, “come through, watch where you walk and let me in through the French windows at the far end.”
Fintan opened the door. Dr Arjun Krishnan lay face down on the floor. He was naked. He had been shot three times. The shot that killed him had been through the back of the head. The exit wound at the front suggested his own mother wouldn’t recognise him.
CHAPTER 13
As Fintan stepped past the body taking care to avoid the pooled blood, he guessed the shots to the buttocks had been fired first, to cause Krishnan as much pain as possible.
Phoenix stood outside the doors. Fintan let him in.
“Krishnan must have pissed off someone it was a big mistake to mess with,” said Fintan. “This was the last thing I expected.”
Through the open doors, they could both make out the faint sounds of sirens.
“There’s no time to get away using the track from the road,” said Phoenix, “phone Brendan, get him to stall the Garda. Grab our bags, then set fire to the car. Wipe clean everything you touched in here. We leave this place as we found it. We’ll go out the back way and run through the trees. They’ll provide enough cover for us to get away. You can call Brendan to pick us up later.”
Fintan did as he was told. It wasn’t the first time the Irishman had torched a car. There had been loads of it on the estate when he’d been younger. After the call to Brendan and a clean-up, he was soon outside the rear extension, and over the fence. The sirens had stopped. Fintan joined Phoenix, handed him his holdall, and they ran through the thick trees, then out into residential streets, heading for Kimmage.
