by Finn Óg
“That’s like a tube of beer on a tilt,” he said when he heard footsteps behind him.
“It’s the Dublin Conference Centre,” a new voice informed him. He turned to find a similar – if shorter, version of Sinead. Her face was not as open; even the way she stood gave her a chippy air.
“I’m Min.”
“I know,” she shot back.
“You must be Áine.”
Sinead hustled in before her twin had the opportunity to ignore their visitor. “Shall we get started? Min, would you like a coffee? You’ve had a long journey.”
“Just flew in on a Chinook?” Áine’s eyebrows arched. Sinead note that Min seemed fit to ignore her.
“Coffee would be lovely, darlin’, thanks.”
“Through here,” Áine tossed behind her as she walked away. Min relished the challenge and followed.
“This is tricked out,” he said, admiringly, as she drew him into her cave.
“I would hope so,” she said, softening at his appreciation of her meticulously designed workspace.
“You could land the shuttle with this kit,” he murmured.
“We can do almost anything with this rig.”
“I’d say you could,” he nodded, gazing around. “I’d say you probably could.”
“How’s it going?” Sinead entered juggling mugs.
“Haven’t started,” Áine muttered.
“Started what?” Min said.
“Finding Sam.” Sinead rolled over a chair.
“Are we, eh …” Min rocked his head in query.
“All good. There’s nothing Áine doesn’t know. She and Sam have worked together for a while.”
“If you can call it that. I don’t get paid,” she said, “and I’ve copped a lot of shit, so it’s that kind of work.”
Min pulled in his lips, apparently deciding not to inquire further.
“So where do we start?” Sinead leaned forward with happy anticipation. Áine and Min looked at one another.
“Well, where did he leave from?”
“Last I saw them, they cast off the pier in Dún Laoghaire in thick fog.”
“Good, he’ll have had to use navigation kit if the vis was bad.”
“Uh-uh,” Áine said. “He powered everything off.”
“Prick,” Min muttered. “That’s typical, that is, navigating in fog without the mod cons.”
“Even with Isla on board?” Sinead said.
“Well, you make a point. He must have been convinced they were on his tail then.”
“He definitely was. He was in a desperate rush.”
“So he could be anywhere.” Min shrugged.
“We did make some progress,” Áine interjected. “We tracked his downloads, and we think he went down the east coast. There was a Wi-Fi hit at a harbour in Waterford and a dump of Eastern Caribbean charts.”
“Oh, really?” Min was suddenly interested. “Good effort. A specific download?”
Unconsciously, Áine straightened. Sinead could see she was pleased at the compliment, that here was something about this man that made her keen to impress.
“A specific search and direct download – not a stumble or an impulse buy, not as a result of an advert served.”
“Very good. But why would he go to the Caribbean ahead of hurricane season? Normally its these next few months people get out of there in their yachts?” Áine and Sinead shared a glance – this was the sort of knowledge neither of them naturally possessed. “And how would he land anywhere or manage? Sure, all the sea borders are closed, aye?”
Again, Sinead and Áine looked at one another. “You mean, they’d turn him back?” Sinead asked.
“Depends where he went. One of the bigger islands could very well send a ship or their coastguard out to chase him off.”
“So maybe he’d have gone to a smaller island?”
“Aye, but even though he could probably anchor up, he wouldn’t be able to go ashore.”
They all looked into the middle distance, unravelling what that meant.
“What would they eat?” Sinead asked.
“Fish, I suppose, but that’s not enough if you’ve a bairn aboard.”
“They’d need to go ashore.”
“Aye, or …” Min was thinking, kindling a notion.
“What?” Sinead pressed.
“Or he’d go somewhere he could get help.”
“Like where?”
“We had a pal, back in the noughties. He was part of a team we had. It was a tight wee unit.”
“For the betterment of humanity, no doubt,” Áine sniped, and then drew her jaw in. Sinead distractedly wondered if she was berating herself.
“Well, it was effective, I’ll say that. There was five of us, and one had joined from the recruitment of the Caribbeans.” Seeing the confusion on their faces, he elaborated. “Something the Marines does – offers a few spaces to folks from Commonwealth countries on YO training in Lympstone.”
“My universal translator got about two words of that.” Áine attempted.
“It’s in Exmouth, the commando training camp.”
“Full of little Rambos.”
“Pretty much.” Min smiled at her persistence but still didn’t rise to it. “Young officer training. Some are not so young – like me and Sam, when we eventually gave in and went for it.”
“And the Caribbean connection?”
“Well, a lot of the time the lads frae the West Indies are not there to join the corps but they get the training if they can stick it – most don’t. Some are useless layabouts and end up going back.”
“Typical,” Áine snapped. “Colonialists still looking to exploit the natives as cannon fodder.”
If Min was perturbed, Sinead couldn’t see it. “Like I said, they’re not expected to serve, and it costs a fortune to put them through it. It’s a year’s worth of brutal graft.”
“Sounds like an act of extreme benevolence, so.” Áine caught Sinead’s imploring stare.
“But there were a few who came through really well, and some were exceptional. Oxen they were – kept going for days without dropping their heads. Aye, the Caribbeans were a mixed bag – some who just wanted to lie in the sun but some who were outstanding.”
“And?” Áine said with exasperation.
“And one went on to go through selection with us, and we kept tight after. Then we were put in the same squad.”
“What’s selection?” Áine asked.
“Special Forces,” Sinead answered when it was clear Min wasn’t inclined to.
“Oh, great, another robot killing machine enters the frame.”
“Áine!” Sinead hissed.
“This man was from Dominica,” Min recalled.
Dominican Republic, Áine turned and began to type.
“No, no—”
“It’s ok, this rig is VPN’d,” she said. “Nobody will track any search from here.”
“That’s not what I mean, love.”
“Call me love one more time and you’re out on your ear, commando or no commando,” Áine said. Sinead knew such familiarity actually translated as affection in her sister’s world, but Min was proving excellent at ignoring her feigned hostility. “No, I mean it’s not the Dominican Republic. Daniel would go off on one if anybody mixed them up.”
“Daniel? Daniel from Dominica?” Áine was sniggering sarcastically.
“You wouldn’t laugh if you saw him. He’s bigger than three men.”
Áine was typing and reading. “Well, bloody hell.”
“What?” Sinead, excited, rolled her chair closer to the monitors.
Áine pulled the same image onto the screens in front of each of them. It was a newspaper article: Man suspected of robbing visiting yacht claims he is the victim.
The headline immediately seemed to fit.
“Look at the date,” Áine said.
“That’s …” Sinead thought for a moment. “Thirty-four days after Sam and Isla left. How long does it tak
e to cross the Atlantic?” she turned to Min.
“Piece of string. Depends entirely on a range of things, but that’s totally possible.”
Áine clicked into the article and they read.
A man arrested for breaching the Covid curfew claims he was attacked by a visiting yachtsman while fishing at night. Derek Amoah was picked up by police on a road close to a beach on the west of the island and immediately taken to hospital where he was treated for wounds apparently inflicted by a harpoon. The yacht that Amoah claims to have been the base for the attack has since vanished, but newspaper records show that Amoah has a previous conviction for stealing from visiting boats.
Without further evidence the police say it is unlikely he will face any charges other than flouting new legislation aimed at curbing the spread of coronavirus. Amoah claims he was shot with his own harpoon when a sailor found him snorkelling close to an anchored yacht on Tuesday last.
Áine turned to her companions. “Sound like anyone you know?”
“If it is him, that robber’s lucky to have got away with a flesh wound,” Min said.
The women stared at Min as he shook his head.
“I can’t mind, ladies. I’m sorry.”
They’d chimed off the names of every port, town and village Google Maps could offer, but all Min’s expression returned was exasperation.
“So you probably killed alongside this bloke, slept in tents, I imagine, probably cuddled up in the cold, but you never thought to ask him where he was from?”
“Dominica – a small island. It wasn’t a big topic of conversation, love.” Min stared at Áine, who, Sinead noted, quickly decided not to pick a fight.
“What did you talk about?” Áine said, more softly than she was accustomed to.
“The task in hand, and not getting slotted, mainly. And you’re right, we were close, close enough to do things you’ll never want to know about, but circumstances at home were always pushed to the back of our minds. Easier that way to get on with the job.”
Áine turned back to the screen. “Daniel Joseph. There are so many of them. And this one with a Facebook profile—”
“Too young – and too old to be a son. He doesnae even look like Danny.”
“It shouldn’t be this hard. Dominica only has a population of seventy thousand.”
“He was big into the environment, mind. Way before all that green stuff was a thing.”
“Oh?” Sinead said.
“He was a brilliant diver. He’d been into scuba before he joined up. I mind him passing the diving course and then being made up to an instructor. Sam asked him for extra help. We called Sam ‘Corky’ – he had wild trouble staying under.”
“Do you think he could be a diver on Dominica?” Áine was typing again.
“Mebbe,” Min said. “He was always banging on about swimming with whales. On the courses he took, you know.”
Áine pulled up a website and shared it across the screens. There were videos and underwater images of huge creatures, constantly interrupted by a reappearing advert for GoPro cameras.
“Sperm whales,” Min murmured. “This is what he was into. Protecting these beauties.”
“Would Sam have known that?” Sinead asked.
“Aye, Danny and Sam were tight, you know. Extra diving lessons until Sam was good enough to make the grade. Like I said, he was better on the surface than under it. I never saw as buoyant a boy in all my puff.”
Áine was beavering away with the trackpad and an unusual keyboard she had pulled over on an extending arm. Min watched over her shoulder. “Clever girl,” he said.
Sinead was baffled. “What are you doing?”
Min shook his head gently in admiration. “She’s only just got into the staff gateway of the Environmental Protection Team.”
“Not just a pretty face,” Áine said.
“You are quick, lass. If you ever want a badly paid job with the military, gimme a shout.”
“Guess who works with whales?” Áine said with pride.
“Daniel Rosseau Joseph,” Sinead read off the screen. “Is that his middle name?” She turned to Min.
“I have no idea, darlin’,” he said, “but that’ll be him. He was mad about they whales.”
“So we call him!” Sinead was as animated as Áine had seen her in months.
“What?” Min’s head tilted a fraction on his trunk-like neck.
“Call Daniel – at the whale centre base, or whatever it is.”
Min did all but hold his palms up. He wanted to whoa her gallop to a canter. “And … say what?”
“Ask if Sam’s there?” Sinead said, bemused.
“We canny do that.”
“Why?”
“Yeah,” Áine butted in, “you said the police aren’t looking for Sam, so what’s the issue?”
“Sam’s the issue.”
“What?” the women said collectively.
“You need to think it through, girls.”
Áine’s finger came out then. “I am not a girl, and neither is she.”
Min shook it off. “Sam’s no gonna take a call from me, is he? And he’s no gonna take a call from you either.”
“Why?”
“Look, put yourself where he is. He’s running, right? Or at least he thinks he is.”
“Yeah?”
“And he thinks he’s clear, so far.”
“Yes.” Sinead wanted the whole thing to speed up.
“And then it’s you who finds him. What’s he gonna think?”
“That Áine’s tracked him. He knows how good she is.”
“Aye, but he also knows how good they are.”
“They?” Sinead’s exasperation was at the point of anger.
Áine helped her out. “The spooks – MI5, MI6.”
“But they’re not interested!” Sinead tried not to shout. “You said so!”
“But he doesnae know that. He thinks he’s on the hook for multiple murders.”
“Then why can’t you call him?” Áine said.
Min sighed deeply. He was evidently conflicted.
“Did something happen between you and Daniel?” Sinead asked.
“No, no. It’s …”
“You rode his wife?” Áine was getting frustrated. “You crashed his car? You owe him money?”
“Ah, for goodness sake,” Min spluttered. “Sam’s gonna wonder if I’m compromised.”
The women sat back in their chairs. Their expressions said it all: explain.
Min looked away, wrestling with the need to tell them and the desire not to. “I gave Sam a wee hand. On his last operation.”
“Taking out those bombers?” Áine asked.
Min said nothing.
“I didn’t know that,” Sinead said, pieces falling into unwelcome places. “Is that why you visited us – in Scotland?”
Áine looked nervously at her sister and changed the subject. “So what? What’s it matter if you helped him?”
“If I call out of the blue, asking Daniel if he’s seen Sam – Danny’s gonnae tell Sam, isn’t he?”
“Well, yeah? That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“So if I was Sam, I’d be wondering if they’re using me to get to him. See?”
“But he trusts you,” Sinead said quietly, as if suddenly doubting everything.
“Aye, but he knows and I know that anyone can be compromised. Him and me have seen that happen often enough.”
“I don’t get it. You’re such good friends …”
“Anyone who has anyone who they care about can be leveraged. It’s just a fact. We saw that up close and personal. We worked in that world for a while. It’s not pretty.”
Sinead nodded. Sam had alluded to as much in a rare, slightly drunken conversation.
“So let me get this straight,” Áine began, haughty and bolt upright. “If you contact them, Sam’s going to think that someone’s putting pressure on you to identify where he is so that they can arrest him?”
Min
nodded slowly.
“And she can’t contact him because he’ll think that if I can track him down, then so can MI6?”
“It’s more than that. He’ll be certain they’re involved because the only way to do this is through Daniel – and, sure, how could you two know about Daniel? He’ll run all this through his head in a matter of seconds, and if I was him, I’d take off.”
Áine’s forehead creased. “Will he, though? He trusts both of ye.”
“He knows that we both have things we won’t risk,” Min said quietly.
“You’ve got kids?” Sinead asked.
Min said nothing.
Áine turned to her sister. “What about you?”
Sinead gave her a long look.
“Me?” Áine spluttered. “Sam will think they’re using me to turn you against him,” she said, flabbergasted.
“Makes sense,” said Min. “And what’s the one thing he will never compromise?”
Sinead sat back, accepting the logic. “Isla. He’ll never allow himself to be separated from her.”
“So, explain this to me,” Áine said, “what was the point of finding Daniel if we can’t contact him?”
Min looked blank for a moment, as if a fundamental flaw had been identified. “We just need to think,” he said eventually. “If we go in like a bull, he might run. He might not, but it’s a risk. D’ye not think?”
Sinead nodded slowly. “He’s right. If Daniel hands him a message – or even hands him the phone – Sam’s likely to hoist the sails and head for the horizon.”
“Assuming Sam’s even there at all,” Min said.
“No question, then, Sinead said. “We need to tread softly. We can’t have them shooting off into the Atlantic. We’d lose them again for sure.”
8
It was late by the time they finished up, despondent, in front of the bank of screens. Large and plush as the apartment was, it only had two bedrooms. Hotels remained closed and, strictly speaking, Min wasn’t even permitted in the apartment at all.
“I can kip on the floor, don’t worry,” he said. “I’m well used to worse.”
“You will not,” Áine replied, which earned a cocked head from Sinead. “She’s got a spare bed in her room. Isla slept on it when she stayed here before.”
“Oh, no, that wouldn’t be right,” Min replied.
