The Dublin Hit

by J E Higgins

  “They’re both dead!” the old man cried as she pulled him upright. “I checked. They’re both torn to shreds, neither is breathing.”

  In the darkness, Sauwa could hear the two assailants, one was thrashing about in the water, and the other was crawling about on the ground. Since neither was firing back, she could only assume they had dropped their weapons and were trying to locate them. “Then get on the boat! We have to get out of here!”

  Fergus began climbing over the side while Sauwa stayed behind him ready for the next attack. To keep her assailants disoriented, she continued to fire sporadically in the direction of their noise. She could hear Fergus hacking away at his docking rope trying to free the boat from its restraint. She kept up her sporadic bursts of fire that served well to keep the aggressors diving for cover.

  At this point, Ewen had only one thought on his mind, rescue his sister and escape. Between the pitch darkness and the South African’s shooting in his direction, he had given up on trying to win this battle. “Ellen!” He finally shouted. “Ellen!”

  “Ewen, I’m here!” Ellen screamed back, as she thrashed about in the water. Ewen raced toward the sound of his sister’s splashing. It was only short distance, but it felt much farther. Grabbing hold of a human form he was well acquainted with, Ewen took hold of his sister as they both wobbled across the field of loose, uneven gravel back up the coastline.

  Confident her attackers had fled, Sauwa backed her way over the bow of the boat. Fergus had started the engine and was trying to navigate his way past the neighboring boats as he headed out to sea. Aiming her rifle over the side, she watched until the boat was well out in the water.

  The old man asked if he could turn on his floodlights. With a sigh of relief, Sauwa agreed. Soon the boat was encircled with the illumination of white lights. Lowering the rifle back into the boat, she fell back onto a pile of ropes. Her adrenaline high had started to dissipate, leaving her physically drained.

  Ewen and Ellen had little time to mourn as they stood over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Ellen was like a statue as she mourned the bullet-riddled body of Nash Emery. Her only comfort was the hands of her brother, holding firmly to her shoulders. The hole where Emery’s eye had once been sent a cold chill down both their spines. It was not the work of a soldier but of a cold-blooded assassin. Emery, a fighter of a cause, was a soldier in the service of oppressed Catholics and, most of all, the father who practically raised them. He had not deserved such an end.

  “We have to settle this Ewen,” Ellen’s voice was cold.

  “We will,” Ewen responded in a tone meant more to comfort his sister than to reinforce his words. He tugged at her shoulders, reminding her they had to escape. For Ellen, the idea of leaving Nash alone on a deserted street seemed unforgivable. But she, like her brother, knew how the business worked. You left comrades and loved ones where they were and mourned their deaths in secret. It was their world.

  Quietly, the two walked back toward the van. Neither said a word, but both agreed with an unspoken understanding. This was not over. Sauwa Catcher was going to die for this.

  27

  Detective Sergeant Ryan Youngest looked out over the virtual war zone on the rocky beach. The grizzly display of bullet-riddled bodies sprawled everywhere reminded him of something out of a war movie. He looked around, getting more of the picture, as the forensic teams set about placing the tall standup lamps to better light the area.

  “Jesus!!” Jeffery Talamadge exclaimed bitterly as he walked about observing the teams working. Coors Ravenhoof and Detective Glenahaughan stood by watching silently. Until the forensic crews did their walkthrough, there was not much they could do. The citizens of the village were forming up around the hastily created blockade guarded by a few of the local police. The town’s police chief, a short, pudgy man who looked like he hadn’t done exercise since his patrol days, moved about putting on a show and pretending he was in charge of the whole investigation.

  “He’s got to do something to prevent looking foolish. His men responded to this mess badly in the first place.” Ravenhoof whispered to Youngest who nodded in agreement.

  “We’re not even sure if this shooting is related to our case,” Youngest replied. “We’re only here because it was a massive shooting, and an informant told our people that Sheehan was possibly driving somewhere north tonight. Otherwise, we’re wasting our time on this.”

  “What did the locals see?” Glenahaughan asked walking up.

  “The folks that live along the road thought it was kids shooting off firecrackers,” Youngest replied. “They didn’t even think to call the police until someone looked out the window and saw bodies on the street. Then it took the local police nearly half an hour to get here because they’ve not seen a murder in my lifetime. The last gunfight this town’s seen happened when Michael Collins was around.”

  “I’m looking for either Detective Sergeant Youngest or Detective Glenahaughan!” A man wearing a mask and covered by a baggy, plastic suit shouted as he emerged from the beach line.

  “Over here!” both men shouted as they simultaneously waved to the cartoonish figure. The man trotted over carrying a blackened object in his hand.

  “I was asked to see if the corpses could be identified, and if one of the bodies belonged to a Rudy Sheehan?” the white-coated figure explained.

  Both detectives nodded. The suited figure handed them a plastic evidence bag. “The ones down by the water were carrying these wallets: one belonged to a Rudy Sheehan and the other belonged to Colin Christie. Both were from Dublin.”

  Talamadge joined the gathering of investigators just in time to hear the announcement. “She had to have been here.”

  “If so,” Ravenhoof walked over to barriers separating the road from the beach, “we have to assume since all the bodies are male, she obviously didn’t die here.”

  “Which leaves one of two possibilities.” Youngest began looking about. “We have four dead in an obvious gunfight, but only one means of travel. We have to assume that our other set of bodies had accomplices who managed to escape. They either abducted our Ms. Catcher, or the gunfight ended in a stalemate with the survivors going their separate ways. If that is the case, we have to ask how Ms. Catcher would have escaped.”

  “They were here meeting a boat.” Ravenhoof turned and started back to his colleagues. Our friends down there were here to meet a boat and apparently got ambushed by these ones on the road. It appears there’s a gap between boats down their right where Mr. Sheehan and his friend are lying. We can assume that Ms. Catcher probably slipped away and did so on the water.”

  “So, we’re looking for two sets of suspects,” Glenahaughan muttered. “Her, and whoever was with these other two fellows.” He pointed to the bodies laid out on the road.

  “I’m betting these two additions to the story will turn out to be IRA,” Youngest surmised as he started over to them, with his three colleagues assisting.

  “Judging by the look of this scene, these boys were higher caliber operators than those from the warehouse shootings,” Ravenhoof observed as he began scrutinizing the area. “They attacked from above, keeping the high ground. The big police flashlights I’m looking at helped give them good visibility to what was going on down below as well as blinding anyone having to look up at them.”

  The seasoned operator spoke from years of experience. “The way they were dispersed gave them means to control more ground below. My guess is if you extend your crime scene perimeter, you’ll find a lot more bullet casings in one direction or the other where their comrades were delivering flanking fire to box these fellas in.”

  “So, then the next question is what?” Talamadge interjected with frustration. “She’s taken to the bloody high seas?”

  “That would be my guess,” Youngest said calmly. “And, if that’s the case, she and our remaining IRA hitters have the better part of a four-hour head start.”

  “To where?” Talamadge scratched his head. “Whate
ver boat she’s taken isn’t big enough to get her across any ocean and certainly no further than south of the country.”

  “No,” Ravenhoof spoke up. “But, if the intention all along was to have her meet up on the water with someone else…”

  The group was silenced with that thought. “All the cargo vessels and ocean-going yachts would be moving out along the Irish Sea…”

  Youngest cut in, “With all the shipping traffic coming and going between Liverpool, Swansea and Cardiff alone, she’d be meeting a ship out on the open waters.”

  “She’s gone!” Glanahaughan muttered angrily. “One of Ireland’s most vicious killers, and she slipped right through our fingers, after a three-day spree that’s left how many dead? Our own policemen as well.” He swore profusely feeling defeated.

  “We can try to contact the coastal patrols. But it would take a significant amount of time and we don’t even know what to have them look for. In any case, it’s a safe bet she’s out of Ireland’s jurisdiction.” He turned to Ravenhoof and Talamadge. “What’s next for you?”

  Both men shook their heads. Ravenhoof finally spoke up. “We could wait until the man ferrying her returns. I would imagine he’ll at least be coming back. However, as you say, by the time they give us any information, the ship in question will be out in international waters and not likely to cooperate knowing they’re housing a fugitive they deliberately helped sneak out of the country. No, I’ll see this investigation through and glean what information I can from it. That way, I can report something back to my people that hopefully will help us pick up her trail again and quickly.”

  “My government can’t let this go either,” Talamadge said. “As long as she’s in the UK, she’s a priority of MI-5 and we will take her down. If she’s gone abroad, rest assured, British intelligence will consider her a threat and pick up where we left off. Who knows, someone may decide to take this matter up with The Hague and the international courts.”

  Ravenhoof took a deep breath before releasing a long deep sigh. “In any case, this is far from over.”

  The water was freezing so early in the morning. Neither Ewen nor Ellen relished the sensation of ice cold liquid splashing over their bodies as they soaped up a thick lather trying to catch every nook and orifice that might even remotely carry traces of their evening’s affairs. The sun was slowly rising delivering a mystifying pinkish red aura across the water and skyline. Soon their naked bodies would be exposed to anyone passing by. Exiting from the water, they were met by the equally piercing chill of the early morning ocean breeze.

  Shivering, they practically dove for the two plastic bags sitting a few feet away. Ripping the parcels open, they enjoyed the first sensation of warmth, as they wrapped towels over their bodies and proceeded to dry off. Afterwards, they dressed in the extra sets of clothing they had brought along for the mission. The whole time neither one spoke. There was nothing to be said. They had lost Nash, their mentor and protector, the family they had never had. And, it had happened right in front of them.

  Dried and dressed in warmer attire, they took one last look around before placing the van in neutral, releasing the emergency brake and pushing the vehicle and all its contents off a nearby cliff. The van crashed into the water with a powerful splash. They had left all the doors open to allow it to flood quickly. They watched as it rapidly sank into the murky depths of the Irish coast. They continued to watch after the van had completely disappeared from sight. It was not so much for professional reasons, but it was a token way they could finally grieve for Nash Emery.

  They waited silently at the edge of the cliff until the sun began to overtake the darkness. Turning, they started across the fields to a waiting station wagon and a nervous looking middle-aged woman. As they walked, they had the same thought. “This isn’t over Ewen,” Ellen gritted her teeth. “Nash didn’t deserve to go out like that ─ being killed by some psychopath ─ and we let it happen.”

  “No sister, this isn’t over in the slightest,” Ewen replied as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Nash is never going to be with the angels until we make this right. We have only one cause now and that’s killing Sauwa Catcher.”

  The twins made their way to the car. Ellen slipped into the back while her brother took the passenger seat up front. The woman said nothing as she got behind the wheel and drove the car onto the main road. Keeping a safe steady pace, she looked around once to see if any other cars were approaching as they sped toward the border.

  Sauwa had tried not to fall asleep while in the boat, but the exertions of the day had finally caught up with her. She awoke to the old boatman shaking her awake. “Miss, it’s time; we're here.”

  Realizing she had completely crashed, she rose to a sitting position. “How long was I out?” she asked as she felt her faculties slowly returning.

  “Around three hours or such,” Fergus replied as he walked back to his post at the helm.

  She looked up and saw a ghostly looking frame, noticeable by a scant circle of lights. “How do you know it’s the right ship?” Butterflies began to emerge in her stomach. She was about to step into a world of uncertainty.

  Fergus clicked his light switch flickering a pattern that was obviously some sort of code. In the distance, she saw a tiny light, no more than a flashlight, flicker back in reciprocation. “I know, Miss, because our mutual friend gave me the general coordinates and timeframe of the ship’s location. He also gave me the codes I was to use to make contact.”

  The boat neared the large cargo vessel. As it did, a succession of lights began to run down the side of the larger ship. With masterful skill, Fergus wheeled his boat up to the lights until they could make out the outline of a ladder well. “Here’s where you get off, Miss.”

  Sauwa was hesitant, as her nerves began to twist knots in her stomach. “What will happen to you?” She looked back at Fergus. “I mean, after all that went on back in your town, the police are sure to be waiting for you.”

  In the darkness, she couldn’t make out the expression on the old man’s face. “Don’t worry about me. I’m an old man who everyone knows goes out in the late hours. As far as the world knows, some desperate people caught me when I was leaving. The shootout should be proof enough of that. One of them, trying to escape took me at gunpoint and forced me out to the water where they directed me to some mysterious ship. That’s all I know. It’s an easy sell. And nobody but you knows of my connection to Rudy and Colin.”

  Colin, that was the name of the other man, she thought. She had fought alongside a man she had known only for a few brief hours before he died, and she had not even known his name until this moment. The boat bumped up against the hull of the ship. The sound of chains clanked as it nestled against the ladder well. “It’s time,” Fergus said.

  “Thank you,” Sauwa said to the old man. “I wish I could...”

  “You owe me nothing and you don’t have time for pleasantries,” Fergus stated warmly. “After they start investigating, the police won’t take long to figure you’re out at sea, and they’ll be sending their patrols looking. You can thank us all best by not taking extra time.”

  He was right. Throwing on her bergen, she balanced herself as she stepped off the boat onto the narrow scaffold of the ladder well. She was barely climbing when she heard the sound of Fergus’s boat drive away. As he had pointed out, time was of the essence. He hadn’t even taken the time to ensure she got aboard safely. With nowhere else to go, she ascended the metallic stairs, balancing against the buoyancy of the heavy ocean waters.

  Finally reaching the top, she was met by a set of powerful hands that heaved her the rest of the way over the topside. She hit the slippery metal floor with a thump and barely kept from dropping to her knees. “Welcome aboard,” a deep voice with a heavy East European accent said in a sinister way. “A man has paid me a considerable amount of money to help with your travels out of this beautiful land.”

  It was hard to see the man’s face, but she saw the outl
ine of a giant with a large round frame and quite possibly excessive facial hair. “Thank you,” Sauwa replied, lamenting that she had not kept any of her weapons.

  “My name in Yorgi. I’m captain of this ship and your host while you’re aboard.” It was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine by the way he spoke. In either case, it didn’t matter, she was at his mercy. “Come,” he commanded. “I take you to your lodgings.”

  She hesitated until Yorgi pressed the issue with a powerful slap to her bottom; she followed obediently. Seconds later they were through a door and heading down another ladder well that took them deep into the bowels of the ship. Walking through a narrow hallway, he led her to a door. She found herself standing in a room equipped with a small bed and a closet.

  “You are only female aboard,” Yorgi said. “So, don’t expect much accommodations. If you need shower or potty, the facilities are two doors further down. Men mostly shower in morning and early evening to catch work shifts. So, you’d be well served to shower mid-morning or late evening.”

  Sauwa turned to face the captain. He looked like someone out of an old pirate movie. A large, muscled frame suggested years of hard work in a rough demanding business. His beard was full and unkempt and hygiene was not a priority. He wore a blue P-coat over a thick, grey wool sweater and a pair of dark brown workmen’s pants. In any other world, she would have considered him a threat. Here and now, he was the only friend she had.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” she inquired. The question, she knew, was futile but in a way necessary to gather more knowledge of him.

  “Because I have been paid,” he replied with a shrug. “A man with my side business doesn’t live very long if he gets a reputation for betraying his clients. Besides, when it was known I was transporting Sauwa Catcher, a professional killer, I figured betrayal would only guarantee my death.”