by Matt Lincoln
“Shut your mouth.” Seamus scowled as he shoved Gallagher roughly out of the room. “We need to have words.”
“Why?” He asked with mock confusion. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Cut the crap,” I retorted. “I heard O’Sullivan talking about the drugs. We’re going to have another chat, and no bull this time.”
“Well, I suppose I do owe you.” He grinned maliciously before looking down at O’Sullivan’s lifeless form. “You did me a favor, after all.”
I bristled at his voice and the mocking tone in which he said them and watched with disgust as Seamus led him away.
The next half-hour passed by in a blur. Paramedics came for O’Sullivan and Dowd, though there was nothing to do at that point. They also examined O’Leary, who ended up having to head to the hospital to get more thoroughly checked out. After catching Junior up on what had happened and making a quick call back to headquarters to Wallace, we headed down to the interrogation room where Seamus was waiting with Gallagher.
It was the same room we’d initially meant to use for O’Sullivan’s interrogation. Gallagher was sitting calmly at the table as we entered, his ever-present smile fixed firmly in place.
“Alright,” I sighed as I took a seat opposite him. “Let’s cut to the chase. What did you and O’Sullivan have to do with the drug that’s been circulating around Las Vegas?”
“We created it,” Gallagher replied. “A new designer drug. Gives you energy, creates a sense of euphoria, even numbs pain and inhibitions. It was a fairly popular and successful drug until it started causing people to lose their minds. It quickly lost its appeal at that point.”
“You told him to pull it off the market,” I surmised. “That’s why there was a three-month lull between the cases.”
“Of course.” Gallagher shrugged. “He tried to argue that it didn’t matter how dangerous it was. Addicts would still keep buying it. The moron couldn’t see how doing that would eventually kill off our entire client base, not to mention sully our family’s reputation. I wasn’t about to be caught dead selling inferior products.”
I thought carefully as I listened to Gallagher speak. Patrick had made it seem as though he and O’Sullivan were partners and equal in power, but the more I listened, the clearer it became that Gallagher was really the one in control. O’Sullivan was a loose cannon who got too big for his britches.
“We heard that there were issues within the organization,” I prompted. “Patrick Gallagher told us that a lot of people didn’t like the way you run things and that they preferred O’Sullivan as a leader. Is that true?”
“I’m afraid so,” Gallagher replied without a hint of emotion. “A lot of the younger members aren’t as fond of the family’s traditions and rules. Someone hotheaded and ambitious like O’Sullivan appealed to them. Of course, there’s a limit to what I will allow him to get away with. Even as my partner, he was starting to take things too far.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“His little business ventures,” Gallagher scoffed as though he was talking about a child’s lemonade stand. “He started small, of course, drugs and guns. I was rather impressed by his drive and resourcefulness. But then he started getting too in over his head. Started moving on to bigger things. Living things.”
I shot a glance at Junior, who looked back at me with an understanding expression.
“Such as wild animals?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Precisely.” Gallagher grinned. “That’s around the time your little organization started sniffing around. He managed to get away with it, though, in the end. I’ll admit, I was impressed, though furious at how careless he’d been. I told him he needed to rein himself in.”
“Which he obviously didn’t,” Junior interjected. “Because after we shut down the animal trafficking ring, he jumped straight to human trafficking and started supplying women to the brothel in Japan.”
“He let all that success and power go to his head,” Gallagher sighed. “As more mafia members started admiring him, he became brasher. He even started putting that stupid little Celtic knot on everything like a trademark.”
“Celtic knot?” I asked. “You mean that flower symbol?”
“Yes,” he chuckled. “It isn’t a flower, though. Regardless, that was the final straw for me. I told him I couldn’t imagine anything stupider than leaving evidence of your identity all over your crimes, and I guess he didn’t like that. He told me I was going to pay for ever crossing him, and then he suddenly disappeared.”
“And that’s why he repackaged the drug as medicine?” I guessed. “He wanted to bait us into coming here while simultaneously getting back at you?
“I couldn’t tell you for certain.” Gallagher shrugged. “You’d have to ask him, though I suppose that’s not possible now, is it?”
He smiled wickedly as though the idea of O’Sullivan’s death was just a joke to him.
“I see,” Junior replied. He was calm, but there was a sharp edge to his voice. “So all the innocent people that died after taking that medicine were just collateral damage? It was all just a ruse to lure us here?”
“I’m afraid so,” Gallagher replied. “O’Sullivan was both ruthless and an idiot. A dangerous combination. Really, it’s all for the best that he’s dead now.”
“Wipe that smile off your face,” I snarled. “You have nothing to be happy about. He might be dead, but you won’t be getting out of this so easily. You’re going to spend the rest of your life rotting in a jail cell.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Gallagher smirked. “There’s a reason I didn’t pick that gun up back in the cell, agent. I don’t need it. There are other ways for me to get what I want than by resorting to brute force.”
“We’ll see.” I sneered back at him. “Because believe me, Gallagher. I won’t rest until I’m sure you’re exactly where you belong, behind bars.”
“I look forward to seeing your efforts,” Gallagher challenged.
“We’re done here,” I muttered. I wanted to punch him right in his obnoxious face, and I knew that if I sat here any longer playing this stupid game, I might actually do it. We’d gotten what we came here for, which was a confession and an explanation for what had been happening in Las Vegas, so it was time for us to go.
I stood from the table. Junior and Seamus stood up after me, and the three of us filed out of the room.
“You two go ahead,” Seamus said once we were out in the lobby. “After what happened earlier, I’m not letting this one out of my sight until I’m sure someone else has got eyes on him. Why don’t I meet you boys in the lobby in about ten minutes? We can go over all the logistical details about the extradition and such then.”
“Sounds good,” I replied. He nodded before turning and heading back into the room, his hand on his radio so he could call for relief.
Junior slumped against the wall once Seamus was back inside.
“You good?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I think I am. It’s just… hard to believe, I guess. That it’s finally over. And my ribs hurt.”
“Yeah.” I chucked as I realized what he’d meant. After a year of chasing him, we’d finally caught the man responsible for all the interconnected cases. We’d never have to deal with another one again.
A beat of silence passed before Junior burst into a fit of chuckles.
“It’s actually over,” he groaned as he pressed a hand gingerly to his side. “Ow. It hurts to laugh.”
“Let’s head back downstairs,” I suggested. “We can wait on that bench for Seamus.”
“Good idea,” Junior nodded.
As we walked down the hall, I could barely contain the sense of elation I felt. We hadn’t just solved a single case here. We’d stopped the man responsible for countless crimes, a man who would have undoubtedly gone on to commit countless more had we not stopped him. It was a sense of accomplishment like I’d never felt before.
38
&
nbsp; Fiona
I pushed open the door to my apartment and flipped on the light switch as I walked inside. It wasn’t the cozy suburban house I’d once had, but it had its own charms. I’d managed to score an apartment on one of the building’s higher floors, and the view of the city from the balcony was amazing. The only real downside was that Beau didn’t have a yard to run around in anymore, but he’d always been a pretty lazy indoor dog anyway, and he seemed content with the daily walks we went on.
“Bobo,” I called tiredly as I closed the door behind me and locked it securely. I heard the clattering of tiny nails clicking against the ground as Beau came hurtling out of the bedroom and into the den to greet me.
I scooped him up into my arms and carried him over to the living room before falling backward onto my couch. It had been a long day, and I was too drained to even change out of my work clothes. The encounter earlier this morning with the man who'd broken into our office and introduced himself as Brennan Gallagher had left me rattled. Then I’d been unable to relax until Junior had called me to let me know how his mission had gone.
To my relief, he and Charlie had managed to apprehend Finnian Gallagher with minimal injury, and Junior had told me that he and Charlie would be flying home the next day. He’d also told me about the mysterious stranger that had shown up at the eleventh hour who had attempted to take O’Sullivan away with him. He’d managed to slip away and avoid capture.
I glanced at the clock mounted over my television. It was a little after six, which meant that it was technically already the next day over there, around two in the morning.
“Maybe I should start baking,” I mumbled to myself as I stroked a hand through Beau’s thick, fluffy fur. It would probably be wise to do it now instead of trying to rush in the morning, but I was so comfortable cuddling with Beau on the couch that I didn’t really want to entertain the idea of moving.
I turned the television on with the remote and flipped through channels without really paying attention to what I saw. There was always a deep sense of calm and satisfaction that came at the end of a case, like the end of a long workout, and I was content to just relax and zone out for the moment.
I jumped when my doorbell rang. It was a wholly unfamiliar sound, as I usually wasn’t home to accept mail deliveries, and the only visitor I ever got was Junior, who would just come in using his key.
It was a little late for mail delivery, and my mind instantly flew to our previous case. The people behind the child trafficking cases we’d investigated had used delivery trucks to move through neighborhoods unnoticed.
“Maybe it’s some kind of solicitor,” I whispered to Beau, who had raised his head and was staring at the door with rapt attention. I got up off the couch and retrieved my gun from my bag by the front door. I was probably being paranoid, and the thought of greeting some Girl Scouts just trying to sell cookies with a loaded firearm brought a small smile to my face.
The doorbell rang again just as I glanced through the peephole, and to my intense horror, it was not just a group of innocent Girl Scouts on the other side. It was Brennan Gallagher.
I tightened my grip on my gun. In retrospect, it wasn’t that surprising that he’d be able to find out where I lived. He’d broken past the office’s security, after all, and if he really was with the mafia, he probably had methods of gaining information.
“What do you want?” I yelled through the door as I positioned myself against the wall. If he tried to break in, I’d have a clear shot of him.
“Ah, you surprised me,” Brennan chuckled through the door. “Why are you yelling?”
“Answer the question,” I snapped.
“Can’t you open the door?” he called. “It’s a little awkward yelling through the door. Aren’t you worried about the neighbors?”
“If it’s awkward, then go away,” I retorted, ignoring his blatant attempt to guilt me into opening the door.
“Don’t be like that,” he laughed. I clenched my teeth together. The casual way he was speaking to me, as though we were friends, really irritated me.
I walked quickly over to the couch and retrieved my phone. Miranda lived the closest, so she could probably be here in just a few minutes if I called her. I flipped through my contacts quickly to find her number.
“I just wanted to let you know that I had good news!” Brennan yelled as I put the phone up to my ear. He paused as if waiting for my reaction, but I wasn’t about to fall for such an obvious tactic.
“Hello?” I hissed as soon as the call connected.
“Hey, what’s up?” Miranda asked, clearly concerned by the tone of my voice.
“Brennan’s here,” I answered quickly. “That guy who broke the keypad, remember? He’s outside my door.”
“On my way,” Miranda replied before ending the call.
“Hello?” Brennan called through the door.
“Yeah, I heard you,” I snapped, still unwilling to play into whatever dumb game this was. It was evident that he wanted me to pry and pull whatever information he had out of him, but I wasn’t biting.
“And you aren’t curious?” He called back.
“If it’s so important,” I spat, “Why don’t you just tell me?”
Beau was whining softly as he paced around at my feet. He could probably sense my anxiety.
“Open the door, and I will,” he replied.
I sighed in frustration. This back and forth had gone on for so long now that I wasn’t really nervous anymore as much as annoyed. “Oh, well, I suppose if you really don’t care, I can just leave. I just thought it might interest you since it pertains to your boyfriend. Agent Chapman, right?”
My blood ran cold, and I groaned in frustration. He might just be bluffing, but I couldn’t take that risk. I glanced through the peephole again to check if he was armed. His hands were in his pockets, and his posture was relaxed. It didn’t look like he had any weapons, but I couldn’t be entirely sure from this perspective.
After making sure the chain lock was securely in place, I opened the door as far as it would go.
“Ah, there you--”
“What the hell do you want?” I snapped as I kept my gun just out of sight.
“You’re in a mood today,” Brennan sighed. “Alright, I’ll tell you since you were nice and opened the door. I just wanted to let you know we kept our side of the bargain. We assisted Agent Hills and Agent Chapman in their arrest of Liam O’Sullivan.”
My eyes widened as I listened to him speak. Of course, Junior had mentioned that someone from an opposing faction of the same mafia family had suddenly appeared and attempted to take O’Sullivan into custody. If he’d been sent by Brennan, it made sense that he appeared so suddenly.
“You’re the one who sent that man?” I asked for confirmation. “That’s what you meant when you said you’d offer your assistance?”
“Of course,” Brennan grinned. “I’m a man of my word.”
“Uh-huh, that’s a load of crap!” I yelled back. “Your man didn’t get there until after the fight was over. As far as I see it, you didn’t actually do anything to help.”
For a long moment, there was only silence. I smirked to myself. He probably hadn’t counted on me knowing exactly how things had gone down and thought he could trick me.
“If you could just open the door,” he called, suddenly sounding a lot less confident than he had just a moment earlier.
“Yeah, not happening,” I called back.
“Open the door!” he yelled. I jumped as he suddenly pounded on it forcefully.
“Who the hell are you?” a different voice screamed. As furious as it sounded, it immediately put me at ease.
“Miranda.” I grinned as I opened the door the rest of the way.
“Don’t move another inch!” she commanded as she moved briskly down the hallway, her gun held aloft toward the man.
“You got here fast,” I sighed with relief.
“I ran a couple of red lights,” she shrugged. “I’m pro
bably going to get some tickets in the mail, but it looks like it was the right decision. You, back off. Now.”
She gestured at Brennan to move away from the door with her gun. He frowned for a moment before complying with a small chuckle.
“You always walk around pointing that thing at people?” he scoffed.
“No.” She shrugged. “But the way I see it, you’re a strange man pounding on a woman’s door and demanding to be let in. Seems like a crime in the making to me.”
“I could report you, you know,” Brennan sneered. “Feds shouldn’t draw their guns all willy nilly like that.”
“Then report me,” Miranda scoffed. “I wonder which one of us they’ll believe. The decorated ex-marine, or a mafioso who was caught trying to intimidate a woman.”
I sighed with relief as Miranda spoke, and Brennan looked angrier than before.
“Go to hell,” he sneered after a long beat of silence.
He shot a sour look at Miranda before stalking off down the hallway and into the elevator. I watched until he was out of sight and then scooped Beau up and walked back into the apartment.
“What was he talking about, Fiona?” Miranda asked darkly as she followed me inside and slammed the door shut. “What was he saying about a favor?”
I bit my lip as I placed Beau on the couch and turned around to face her.
“I kind of agreed to a deal with him,” I admitted sheepishly. “It all happened so fast. He was going on about how he wanted to help us and how MBLIS would owe him something for their assistance, and I just wanted him to leave, so I agreed, and I thought I’d deal with it later, but I didn’t realize later would be tonight. Then he showed up and started getting all sleazy and saying that I owed him.”
“Wait, that you owed him?” Miranda interrupted my ramble. “Not MBLIS, but you, specifically?”
“I guess?” I shrugged. “He came straight to my apartment to bother me about it. Now that I think about it, Nelson tried to talk to him, and he insisted on speaking with me only. But anyway, it doesn’t matter now. He didn’t actually help us. Junior told me that the battle was basically over by the time his goon arrived to ‘help.’ As far as I’m concerned, I don’t owe him anything now.”
