The Dublin Hit

by J E Higgins

  “So, you’re washing your hands of me?”

  “Of course not,” the burly man, again spoke up. “We’re going to see this through. We have to.”

  “Who is this guy?” Sauwa pointed to the driver. “Why are you trusting him?”

  “A silent partner,” Banker answered reluctantly.

  “Someone he comes to when he gets in over his head,” the driver chimed in, again. “His interests are also aligned with mine. I want very much to see you gone tonight.”

  Sauwa was speechless. Everything was going too fast, and she had no control over any of it. She needed an explanation. “We have a connection in Skerries; it’s a town north of Dublin. It’s an old fishing village that’s out of the way. The police don’t have a strong presence there, which will make it a safer exit.”

  “We’re leaving on a fishing boat? That means you’re shipping me back to Britain!”

  “No! No, we’re not. It’s just we don’t want to endanger our source by divulging too much,” Banker tried to explain.

  “Bullshit!” Sauwa spat. Her bergen was finally off and nestled in her lap. “I don’t care about security risks. I have my own concerns. So, fucking tell me what your new plan is, and why I should trust it!”

  “You’re in no position…” the driver began before he felt her hand clamp around his neck.

  “Niceties are over,” she growled. “You know what I’ve done these last few days in your country, and what I can do to you now. I hate threats, so let me speak frankly. Those I work for, as well as the IRA and the fucking British government, will find me just as easily there with the greater resources they’ll have available. It would not be in your best interest to think you’ll dispose of me easily.”

  “Sauwa,” Banker said sympathetically. “We have no intention of dropping you off in England or the UK. We can’t get you onto a ship at the harbor, not now. The fisherman who’ll be helping us will sail you down to the Irish Sea where you’ll make contact with a cargo ship. It will be coming out of Liverpool and meeting up with you in St. George’s Channel. That’s the ship we’ll be putting you on; it will take you out of here altogether.”

  Sauwa’s hand was still latched onto the driver’s throat. She could feel his body tense. He didn’t dare try to fight her not knowing what a professional assassin could do to him if he did. “How do I know I can trust any of this?”

  “Because the fisherman would be at your mercy, if he did anything else,” Banker replied. “As we’ve said before, we see our deals through. What’s more, your insurance in all this is that we have become far too intertwined with you and your exploits. We can’t afford to see you get caught by either the British or Irish authorities. Nor do we need the UVF after us in addition to the IRA.”

  Banker’s answer seemed logical. Sauwa slowly released her hand from the driver’s throat and leaned back into her seat.

  Nash Emery had nearly finished his game of solitaire when the pay phone across the street started to ring. He got up and stretched before walking over to pick it up. “Yes?” he asked gruffly.

  “Is this the Cannerman residence?” a voice he recognized as Seamus Nally’s asked.

  “No,” he replied, curtly. “You’re off a number. This is the McCord residence.”

  It was the code they had worked out to ensure each other’s identity and verify neither was being held under duress. If either one had been compromised, they would have given a different family name for the residence they presumed to be calling.

  “What have you got?” Emery snapped.

  “A contact of ours found Mr. Sheehan. Saw him getting into a car with another man we know as an associate of his. Our contact overheard them saying something about a trip to Skerries tonight.”

  “Skerries, uh? Smart move given the heat that’s on them in Dublin,” Emery thought out loud. “How reliable is this source?”

  “He’s good man; I believe him,” Nally replied.

  “If it turns out to be bullshit, our next conversation won’t be so pleasant,” Emery growled. He normally wouldn’t have been so curt with a ranking IRA officer; however, Nally was in no position to be high and mighty. “Anything else?”

  “That’s all I’ve got.” The older man sounded quite nervous over the phone. Emery didn’t bother with more words. He crashed the phone in its cradle and started back across the street.

  Ewen and Ellen Callaway were engrossed in a game of chess when the door was flung open and Emery marched in. His commanding presence alone seemed to call everyone to attention. The twins rose to their feet as did a fourth man, Irial Kerry, who was setting the papers he was reading to the side.

  No radios or television were on so everyone could hear what was going on outside. It was an old habit they had learned from years of dodging ambushes.

  “We’ve got a lead. Our people think the targets are heading north to Skerries,” Emery snapped as his team collected their coats preparing to leave. “We can assume this is their means of escape. We will have to move fast to catch them.”

  The team started filing out the door past their leader and headed in the direction of the parking lot. Emery followed them. They were soon piling into a small blue van. Kerry took the driver’s seat while the twins piled into the back. Emery was last to slide into the passenger seat. The engine came to life as Kerry turned the ignition. It was a rule to always back in when parking to make it easier to drive out quickly.

  In the back, the twins were pulling a large canvas bag out from under a pile of old blankets. Soon, Emery was hearing the familiar metallic sound of guns being racked. The twins were loading magazines and chambering rounds in preparation. He had trained them well, he thought to himself with a fatherly sense of pride. “Finish up and place the weapons back in the bag,” he commanded.

  “We’re going on a mission, aren’t we?” Ellen protested. “We should be ready.”

  “We’ve got some distance to go,” Emery replied. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. “We’re still driving around in a large city in a closed-up van. We don’t need to have anything lying about for the police to see if we should get pulled over by an overly suspicious cop.”

  “Right, we’ll finish later. We just want to be ready when the time comes to move,” Ewen said as he began loading the guns back into the bag and trying to temper his sister’s irritation. She sometimes felt their team leader was a bit too paternalistic.

  “Good initiative,” Emery remarked, “but wait until we get outside of the city. You’ll have a good half hour to prepare the equipment.” He felt pride that his training had turned the twins into such skilled professionals. Still, he had to remember they were young. They had more to learn.

  Kerry kept the van at a mild pace. He was a seasoned operator with experience going back to the seventies. He knew the validity of his superior’s concerns. The twins might not have seen the picture, but he did. Two rough looking men driving around in a suspicious looking van with two youngsters sitting in the back would make them look like criminals exploiting kids. To any cop, the whole scenario would raise questions. For what they were doing though, it was a logical choice.

  He looked over at the man in the passenger seat. Emery was quiet; his breathing was controlled and steady. Kerry heard no motion or sound in the back either. The twins may still be somewhat headstrong, but they understood the dangers of what was about to take place. When an operation involved guns, it always had the potential for danger. It was essential that everyone had a clear head. It also wasn’t lost on any of them who they were going after. They had seen with their own eyes some of her handy work. She was a well-trained and experienced killer they all knew could not be taken lightly. This mission had to be treated with the same respect of any other mission they had undertaken for the cause.

  26

  Skerries was quiet when they arrived. It was a small fishing village about twenty kilometers north of Dublin. The town had a small population of long-rooted families who drew their living from the sea. I
t was late, and the houses and shops along the route were closed. Even the local pubs were clearing out their last patrons.

  Sauwa looked out her car window. This route was an interesting alternative, no one awake to notice strangers moving around on the docks at this hour. It was also unlikely to have busy-bodies call the police. She had seen many operations end in failure because this little fact was not taken into account.

  As if sensing what was going through her mind, Banker spoke up. “Our man is a bit of a night owl. He likes doing his boating at night. The locals are used to him being out at this hour. You don’t need to be concerned about attracting suspicion.”

  Sauwa began to relax. She sank back into her seat as she looked out at the rows of old houses as they passed. Like her trip into Dublin, she marveled at the structures in a town that easily dated back to the early nineteenth or possibly even the eighteenth century. It was another reminder of how young Africa was. With another life, she would have worked to become a history major or archeologist.

  Everyone had been silent for the rest of the drive. It was hard to tell if it was nerves or the simple lack of anything beneficial to discuss. In either case, it only served to make the trip longer. Though it was only a small town, the ride through the main street seemed to last forever.

  The car pulled alongside the road up against the small white concrete bumpers that separated the road from the coastline. Across the way were a collection of big red and white brick houses and shops. On the other side of the concrete bummers was a graveled beach where several small fishing boats were docked. The smaller craft was used primarily by weekend hobbyists. Light came from the few scattered streetlights on the housing side. A few lights were seen from the boats themselves. This left the beach line nearly black, ideal for people looking to move about unnoticed.

  Everyone exited the car as casually as possible. Sauwa slipped out the driver’s side grabbing her bergen in the process. She pretended to check it while she looked about for anyone prying or any other sign they were being watched. It was a quick sweep and most of the houses and shops were completely dark. No way to see anyone. Deciding she had done her best security check with the time and visibility available, she followed Banker and the other man as they started down the graveled beach. The wind coming off the water was cold.

  They were crossing the barriers when a small blue van passed by. Banker and his friend froze. The van slowed for a brief second before picking up speed and continuing down the road. Not wanting to attract attention or look suspicious, Sauwa snapped at the men to keep going.

  She had no real reason to be concerned, yet something about the van and the way it slowed made her leery. Reaching into her coat pocket, she felt for the gun she had removed from the dead policeman. Once she had a grip on it, she slipped off the safety. Then reaching into her other pocket, she did the same with the gun she had taken from the second policeman. Both already had rounds in their chambers. Now all she needed to do was draw, point, and shoot.

  Like the British, the Irish police did not generally carry firearms. These detectives must have been on some sort of special duty.

  In any case, they had been carrying Sig Sauer 9mm’s. She had had only a limited amount of time after the shooting to examine the guns and estimated there were fifteen rounds in one and eighteen in the other. She edged one of the guns far enough out of her coat pocket to rest the butt against the pocket opening for easy accessibility. She tucked the other gun into the waistband of her jeans.

  Starting down the beach, she navigated the slick rocks beneath her feet. Banker and the other man were invisible in the darkness, but she could hear them only a few feet away. At the edge of the beach, the silhouetted figure of a man stood at the rear of one of the larger boats. The way her associates were angling, it was easy to determine he was their contact.

  “That’s them,” Emery snapped as they drove past a group of people making their way around the barriers toward the beach. Surprised, Kerry instinctively started to slow the van. “Keep moving dammit!” Emery commanded. Kerry accelerated slowly to not attract attention. He continued driving while his commander remained focused on his side view mirror watching the trio.

  “All right,” Emery began as the images in the mirror diverted his attention. “Twins, at the corner slide out and make your way onto the beach. Use the darkness as your concealment as you make your way down the coastline. We won’t be able to see you so stay about fifty meters from whatever boat they’re taking. You’ll provide cover fire for me and Kerry. We’ll circle back and come at them from the other side. They should be at the waterline by then, and we’ll have the high ground. We have flashlights we’ll shine down on them to get their position.”

  “The plan is to pin them down with fire from both sides so they won’t be able to mount a viable defense.” He turned to look first at Kerry then at the twins. All were nodding in agreement. “I don’t have the intelligence on these folks I’d normally like. I don’t know what they’ll have for firepower. Between their limited amount of time and their need to keep a low profile, I assume they’ll be carrying handguns and limited ammunition. So, don’t be heroic. We have superior firepower and more ammo. We can wait them out.”

  “What about the cops around here?” Ewen asked.

  “Small, quiet town with a small police force that hasn’t seen action in decades,” Emery responded. “Assume they’ll be taken by surprise. They’ll bumble around trying to figure out what to do. It will take time to reach whatever arsenal they have, organize then deploy to deal with us. I imagine we’ll have a good hour before we should start to be concerned. We’ve got three targets. This Sheehan asshole and his associate are not known as hard types. I don’t expect resistance from them. The South African, however, is a pro. She’s experienced and dangerous. I need not remind you that in the last few day’s she’s killed a police detective, five of our men and quite possibly two more cops today.”

  “We’ve reached the corner,” Kerry informed them.

  The van didn’t stop; instead, it slowed to an idling speed. The twins finished preparing their weapons and had them laid out. They included additional attire for the mission. They stretched surgical latex gloves over their hands and slipped dark, slick raincoats over their bodies. They added black knit ski masks that left only the eyes visible. This was all done to protect against forensic testing later if the team was in any way detained. The van also came equipped with a cleaning kit, alcohol pads, fresh clothes, and soap, if they had to wash themselves off.

  Ewen and Ellen grabbed AKS-74s and canvass side bags carrying extra magazines. Unlike the more traditional models, AK-74 and 47s, the AKS had a triangular, retractable stock that made it more compact. They rolled the van’s side door open and quietly slipped onto the road. Ellen slid the door closed before following her brother behind the van and then over the side into the darkness of the beach. Behind them, they could hear the van pick up speed as it rounded the corner. Unlatching the capture hook on the rifles, the steel shoulder stocks sprang from their locked positions into a rigid elongated state.

  The rocks were both slick and jagged as they worked their way down to the waterline. Disciplined professionals that they were, neither spoke as they communicated by touch. Feeling the water at their feet, they began trekking back toward the trio Emery had seen. Ewen led the way; his sister followed closely. Both held their weapons in tactical poses; Ewen held his arm out in front of him and aimed in the direction they traveled; Ellen held hers against her body with the barrel pointed toward the ground ready to bring it instantly into action.

  Sound normally carries at night creating echoes. Luckily, the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore masked the sound of their feet crunching on gravel. Nearing their objective, the sound of men’s voices could be heard, not shouting, but speaking loud enough to communicate over the noise of the water and the growing intensity of the wind.

  Ewen reached back and tapped his sister on the shoulder signaling her
to take a position behind one of the boats. Being the female in the unit, Ellen had accepted she would have to endure a certain degree of paternalism. Since she was able to go on missions, the annoyance of having to always be directed to the safest position or given the safest job of the operation was something she simply tolerated.

  Without argument, she slipped away from her brother, drew her weapon up to her chest, and aimed in the direction of the men’s voices as she walked over to the edge of the boat. Dropping to her knee she steadied herself as she took an aiming position.

  Ewen felt around his immediate location for any sizeble object he could use for cover; there was none. Instead, he carefully lowered himself to a prone position as he placed his rifle slightly ahead of his body. The rifles were the shortened versions and had nothing to use for a shoulder rest to help tighten their control. Firing 5.56 ammunition promised less kickback.

  Nash Emery directed his driver to the side of the road. The headlights went dead the last few feet before stopping. Kerry kept the engine running. This was a tactical precaution. When the battle was over and the team in a rush to make their escape, they could quickly take off and didn’t have to get the vehicle started.

  Emery slipped out of the passenger seat and slid to the other side. Kerry was already opening the side door of the van. Like the twins, the two men grabbed their rifles and some canvass side bags holding additional magazines. Kerry stepped inside and reached into a small cardboard box wedged between the driver and passenger seats. He backed out holding two large mag flashlights. He handed one to Emery.

  Tucking their weapons up under their coats, the two men started across the street toward the barrier line. The lighting from the houses along the road was non-existent and street lamps offered little better along the coastline. Anyone driving by or looking out a window would be able to see virtually nothing. Stopping a few feet short of the white barriers, the two IRA men pulled out their weapons. Like the twins, they extended the steel shoulder stocks and locked them into position. “Shame to use such fine weapons on this mess,” Emery muttered as he thought about how they would have to dump these armaments after the attack. Kerry nodded but said nothing.