by G. C. Harmon
“Jeez, I thought you were just some boring bureaucrat.”
“Well, the job was not exactly MI6, but it had its moments. As I said, I worked with INR for several years, but they eventually pulled me out to work a special detail. I was to work with one special immigrant and get him situated here in San Francisco, and I was in charge of his safety. That man was Father Ryan Fitzhugh.”
Steve processed this as he listened and remembered things he’d read in the priest’s statement. “You were getting him out of Ireland and away from the IRA?”
“Aye.”
“OK. But why you?”
“I believe there were multiple reasons why it happened. But the main one was, he contacted me directly because…he’s family.”
Steve’s raised his eyebrows, then turned and leaned against the wall as the revelation hit him. “You’re the cousin in the State Department.”
“Aye. His mother and my mother were sisters. They hadn’t spoken in many years, as my mother immigrated and his mother married an Irishman. Because he was my cousin, and because he was in danger, I was tasked with helping him emigrate in secret and getting him situated here in San Francisco. He was joining the priesthood, so despite my better judgment, I put him in contact with a seminary here and I stayed in town to watch over him.”
Steve was deep in thought, mostly about his knowledge of their family history. “How long did this go on?”
“I was still new to this city when assigned. I made it my home. I met your mother here in town, we got married, had you. I quietly raised my family while watching over this man. I found it strange that my state department colleagues never really interfered here. But I was always watching the Troubles in Northern Ireland. In the late 90s, things settled down over there, and peace broke out. It looked like no one was coming after me cousin. I asked for guidance from upstairs, but no one seemed to give a damn. They were no longer interested in bodyguarding him. I retired from State and settled down with your Mom and you. I still kept an eye on me cousin, I would pop in to visit from time to time. A few more years went by, no one seemed to care. This city started falling apart, so I moved us out.”
Steve was processing the story. “I guess that explains why you called me out of the blue like this. And maybe why you didn’t tell Mom.”
“Aye. The head of my old INR section called in a panic when they received word. The news spread like wildfire through elements of the Church, and I imagine that’s how they found out. They called me at four a.m. and told me to be on the next plane here. I was putting everything together on the fly. Including the excuse, I gave your mum.”
“So why is everyone so interested in this guy now?” Steve wondered.
“The answer to that, I don’t know, but I think we’re about to find out. We should go back in.”
Steve heaved a sigh, wondering if he was ready to. Drew started toward the door, and Steve followed, wondering what other revelations were in store.
“Gentlemen, I’ve just briefed my son on some unknown history regarding the priest. What I was starting to remind my former supervisor here is that there should have been no problem with the priest staying on with the church. The troubles in Ireland are supposed to have wound down, over twenty years ago.”
“Maybe I should fill in some gaps here,” Steve said. “During the course of this investigation, I was contacted by two priests who told me they came straight from the Vatican itself. They saw fit to offer me Fitzhugh’s personnel file. In it was a statement that he wrote specifically to the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. That statement details how he came up in the Irish Republican Army, and some of the incidents of violence he was involved in. In particular, it details an attack on British forces in his hometown that he actually bailed out of. It’s no stretch to believe that someone in the IRA is out for revenge, but we can’t figure out who. Everyone he was involved with appears to have died in that raid. So we don’t know the who. We also haven’t nailed down the why. The Irish Troubles supposedly died down in the late nineties when they signed a peace accord.”
“They may have a tenuous peace,” Bauman said. “But there are still factions within factions over there that want the struggle to continue. But gentlemen, there’s another wrinkle that has presented itself.”
Both Blazers looked at him, waiting with bated breath.
Bauman hesitated. It seemed, Steve thought, that no one really wants to reveal complete truth.
“Are you gentlemen aware of Brexit?” Bauman finally asked.
Steve narrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah. Great Britain, specifically its people, got fed up with being mistreated by the European Union. A few years ago, the people voted for England to leave the EU. From what I understand, a lot of British politicians didn’t want Brexit to happen, and they dragged their feet and stalled. However, Brexit did finally happen in January of 2020.”
“Very astute,” Bauman said. “It seems our priest has gotten himself mixed up in some of the residual issues of Brexit.”
“Do tell,” Drew said, just as interested as his son was.
“When Great Britain broke away, there were still some financial and trade issues going on. The Brits had been transitioning from the Euro back to the Pound for several years, but it does seem that their breakaway caused some tensions with people from some countries. Some months ago, certain British companies attempted to establish a trade deal with a couple of EU companies out of Germany. However, the German companies began to hear from their lower-level workers how much they resented the Brits pulling out. There is still a committee looking into how the breakaway really affected the financial standing of other companies in the EU. For instance, did the reinstatement of the pound upset the balance between the Euro, the Pound, even the dollar, and what effect this has had on cost and quality of living in both countries. In the meantime, these tensions started to escalate. There were some British workers at one of these companies working at a facility in eastern Germany. They started lodging complaints about their treatment by their German co-workers, everything from simple harassment to physical assault. Maybe because of the complaints, all this culminated in an incident where this group of workers was trying to leave for the day, and several of the German workers waited outside for them. It damn near became a riot. It turned into a class action issue when the group hired a lawyer, and that lawyer started to go public with the complaints. As soon as he did, other groups of Brits at other companies sounded off about the same treatment. This caused Britain to reach out to the EU to form a commission to investigate and make some recommendations. It seems our Father Fitzhugh felt he had some experience with this sort of thing.”
“Not surprising,” Scot said, speaking for the first time. “It sounds like that’s how the Troubles started in Ireland. Catholics getting harassed by the Protestants who were in charge, and they finally stood up to it.”
“Again, very astute. Father Fitzhugh apparently had some back-channel contact with one of the negotiators from the German commission. They exchanged a few emails, and before anyone knew, the German committee was requesting that he join the British group as part of the negotiations.”
“This doesn’t sound like the kind of thing a priest would get involved with,” Steve said.
“Nay, I can see him being interested,” Drew said, “when it comes to human rights.”
“There is a further complication,” Bauman continued. “We have a time crunch. The committees are scheduled to meet. Tomorrow.”
“Where?” Steve asked.
“Both committees agreed to a kind of neutral meeting place. Right here in California. They have obtained permission to have a private event at Hearst Castle near San Luis Obispo.”
“What do you need from us?” Steve asked quietly.
“Your team is already at the forefront of finding Fitzhugh, according to your father. We’d like your help in finding him, and if someone is trying to kill him, you will likely be the ones to stop him.” He motioned to the group of men by his desk
, all of whom had remained silent during Bauman’s briefing. “A couple of these men are from INR, the same group that your father worked for. They have provided security for Fitzhugh in the handful of meetings he has attended. But they have not faced whatever enemy is trying to kill him.”
“Is it possible that this killer is somehow associated with the other commission?” Steve asked. “Like someone who doesn’t want these negotiations to happen? Or maybe somehow associated with another EU government?”
Bauman thought this over. “I suppose it’s possible. However, no one else on the committee has been threatened.”
“Actually, considering what happened to us last night,” Steve then said, “I do believe the threat comes from the IRA angle.” He caught a curious glance from Stanson and said, “I’ll tell you about it.”
“Why don’t you tell all of us about it?” Bauman asked.
“Please,” Stanson agreed, curious as to what his protégé was hiding from him.
Steve thought about it. “OK. During the course of our investigation, we searched the priest’s room, and we came up with a business card to an Irish pub here in town. When Inspector Black and I checked the place out last night, we got attacked by several patrons, who I believe are Irish ex-pats and possibly affiliated with the IRA. After we left the bar, someone took a few shots at us. I tried to chase him down, but he got away.”
Bauman nodded. “That would seem to confirm your belief. But does it get us closer to finding him?”
Considering everything that Steve had learned in the past twenty-four hours, and especially the last twenty-four minutes, any other person would have been in too much shock to even comprehend all the information. But Steve took everything in stride and was already working the problem in his head. “I may have some ideas on how to track him now that we know…everything.” It was a pointed statement, as if daring Bauman or anyone else to add to the mysteries surrounding this whole endeavor. “I’d like to bring my team in on this, too, especially if we’re dealing with a whole crew of IRA ex-pats.”
“Fine. In the meantime, let me introduce the men here that you’ll be working with.”
“Maybe I should start,” Drew interrupted Bauman. “From my old INR group, you know Birdie, agent Birdsong. He’s here with Agent Ira Kent.” Kent was in his late forties with salt and pepper hair, but still maintained a solid physique. Steve was starting to wonder if some of these guys were involved in more than just diplomatic affairs.
“Along with INR,” Bauman continued, “I’ve assembled a team from across the department, and each of them has been involved in the elements of the human rights committee. I’d like to introduce Christopher Banes from the Office of European Affairs.” As he named each of the men lined up near his desk, they raised a hand or gave a casual salute. “Dean Newman, Office of Economic and Business Affairs. Diego Pastor, Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor. Luther Monson, Office of Civil Rights. And finally, Cliff Stack, Office of Global Criminal Justice.”
Steve glanced up and down the line of State Agents. “I’m never going to remember all that.”
“They will be available to you so we can locate this priest and get him to those talks, and I ask that you make yourself available to them as well.”
“That’s fine. All of you, if you need to talk with me, just remember to introduce yourself again. I’m going to call my team over, and we can get started.”
He pulled his father and Captain Stanson aside, and they stepped out to the outer office. He pulled out his cell phone and began typing a text. To Stanson, he asked, “Are you sticking around?”
“After what I’ve just heard, I wouldn’t miss this.”
Steve nodded, finished his text and hit send: “All of you get to the federal building, ASAP. Bring the evidence from the Cathedral. This whole thing just blew wide open.”
Moments later, the group from Bauman’s office filed out to the outer office, headed for the door to the hallway. One of them, Steve believed Agent Stack, gestured to him. “Come on. We’ve got a conference room next door we can use.” Steve nodded, and the four of them followed.
Steve had seen this room as they walked by upon their arrival. One side of the conference room was thick glass that exposed its users to any foot traffic outside. The other side was the outer wall where the glass was shaded by the weird mesh structures outside. Steve once again saw what Agent Birdsong had referred to with the “green” structure of the building. The natural lighting in the conference room was horrible.
The State Agents each grabbed a random chair, and a couple pulled sheets of paper from folders to review. Steve remained standing for the moment. When no one spoke for a moment, he decided he should. “So…who among you has actually worked directly with Father Fitzhugh, or even been face to face with him?”
He first glanced at his father, but Drew shrugged it off. “Don’t look at me, boyo, I haven’t seen the man in fifteen years.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask if you guys had some kind of bug out signal worked out, and if he had any destination he was supposed to meet you at.”
“We did, but the whole system is now obsolete. I checked our selected meeting places yesterday afternoon, and I had nay luck.”
“I worked with him a few times recently,” one agent spoke up. “Agent Banes, European Affairs. In fact,” he nodded across the table at the Hispanic man, “Agent Pastor and I briefed him together a couple times recently.”
“How serious is he about joining these negotiations?”
“I think very,” Pastor said. He was short, and his longish black hair was slicked back and glued to his scalp with gel. “I showed him some video taken of the riots where some of the Brit workers were assaulted. It affected him.”
“Good. That gives us a stronger possibility of finding him. We think the priest is in hiding because someone is trying to kill him. The question is where. I think he’s not just hiding, he’s seeking sanctuary.”
His father picked up on where Steve was going with this train of thought. “If he’s serious about staying involved with these talks, he would possibly want to find a place close to where the talks are taking place.”
“Correct. So we should look for a Catholic establishment either near, or on the way to, the negotiation site.” Steve grabbed his phone as it vibrated and glanced at the screen. “My team is here. I’ll bring them up.” He glanced at his Dad, nodding for him to accompany his son downstairs.
Several minutes and four elevator changes later, they emerged into the lobby. The four remaining Special Forces cops stood at the Security desk, getting sideways glances from the guards there. Steve motioned for them and they marched to the elevator. He noted that Brian carried a small cardboard box, the evidence they had collected from the Cathedral. The guys were, of course, shocked to see his father there with him. On the trip upstairs, he briefed them on what had broken with the case, including why the elder Blazer was there. By the time they reached the top floor, things seemed to be making sense.
Steve marched them down the corridor and led them into the conference room. The agents were poring over the screens of multiple laptops.
“Everyone, I want to introduce my team.” Steve did not divulge the title of Special Forces. “You met Inspector Scot Black, these are Inspectors Dave Castillo, A.J. Miano and Officer Brian Snow.”
The State Agents seemed to give them a collective blank stare. “We’re never going to remember all that,” Birdsong said.
Steve shook his head, thinking, Touché.
“We’re working off the theory that the priest is holed up somewhere near where the talks are happening,” Steve said, with pointed glances at the two Catholics on his team, Dave and A.J. “Any hits?”
Birdsong’s partner raised his hand from behind his laptop. “Kent, INR. We got a list of Catholic Churches up and down the coast and into the valley. A lot of them have schools attached to them. Along with that, every major city has a Catholic Cathedral, some like San Francisco ha
ve multiple cathedrals. It would be nice to have a way to narrow it down.”
“We can work on a warrant for a phone dump of the Priest’s phone,” Steve said.
“What’s the number?” an agent sitting at the other computer. As one, the cops stopped what they were doing to stare at him. The agent glanced around. “Agent Stack, Global Crime. Forget the warrant, this is National Security. What’s the number?”
Steve shrugged and pulled out his cell phone. He had some of the case file accessible there and found the priest’s number. He read it off to Agent Stack. He then began digging online.
Brian had set the evidence box at the other end of the conference table and was basically standing guard over it. Steve approached and flipped the lid off, began to paw through it. Brian watched over him. “We looking for anything in particular, Chief?”
“Anything that might tell us where he’s hiding,” Steve muttered. “Anywhere he might have visited, related to the church, where he could hole up…”
Steve trailed off as he found a plastic bag full of papers. He glanced at the label but looked at the page visible through the plastic bag. On a light green background, he saw a picture of lush hillsides of green grass dotted by darker green bushes. In the foreground, a large structure built of dark gray stone.
“What’s this?” Steve asked Brian.
“Those are some papers pulled from the desk in his quarters.”
Steve could read the label of the brochure through the plastic. Benedictine Refuge Monastery.
Steve opened the ziplock and fished out the brochure, glanced over it for a second. For a brief moment, Steve felt like kicking himself. He’d spent the last twenty-four hours wondering desperately where this priest could have gone into hiding. Had the answer been in the priest’s desk the whole time? Just as quick, he stopped scolding himself. They had not put together the information until now.
