Page 21 of Generation Lost

“Just Annie, Conor. It’s lovely to see you as well. I love the Irish accent,” she smiled. “I had a great-uncle who was from County Cork and used to read me bedtime stories from Ireland.”

“Are ‘ya sure they weren’t nightmares?” he smirked.

“Well, I must admit some were a bit frightening, but I was always a kid who liked a bit of danger.”

“Hence your Joan of Arc activities with your friends,” he smiled. They filled their plates and took a seat, smiling at one another.

“It wasn’t quite that heroic,” she said, shaking her head. “Some of those people were in their eighties and nineties. They couldn’t do anything for themselves. What the Rizzoli family has done to them, to us, is criminal. How can you look at them and kick them out of their homes, scam them, take everything they’ve ever worked for?”

“I don’t have an answer to that,” said Conor. “I’ve known a lot of horrible people in my life, and the only thing that’s ever made it alright is knowin’ there are boys like these who fight for what’s good.”

“They do seem to be special,” she smiled.

“So, you know I was a fighter. What did you do, Annie fair?” She laughed, shaking her head.

“I was a medical assistant for years. Not an RN or LPN, but I helped out at the clinic prepping patients and taking their histories. It was a good job that afforded me an income that I could live on my own.”

“Never married?” he asked.

“Once,” she nodded. “We were wrong for one another and knew it. I think we got married because we were both in our thirties and thought that’s what everyone else expected. There was no nasty divorce or cheating. We just looked at one another over coffee one morning and said, ‘I’m not happy.’ That was it. We filed for divorce, he moved to Oregon, and I continued in my little home.”

“I’m sorry you lost it,” he said, gripping her hand.

“Me too,” she nodded. “But maybe it’s the universe sending me a signal that I need to do something else. Maybe it’s time for me to travel if I can build up my savings again. I always wanted to do that.”

“Ireland is beautiful. Should your feet land you there, you’d always have a place to stay.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a burden, Conor.”

“Tis no burden, lass. I live in an ancestral castle,” he smirked. “You can have your pick of the seventeen bedrooms and their wee ghosties.”

“Seventeen!” she gasped. “Oh, it sounds so beautiful. Ghosts. I would dearly love to meet a few ghosts.” Conor smiled at her, seeing the Belle Fleur ghosts in the distance.

“Is that so?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When Vince and Bull walked into the auditorium the next morning, the entire senior team, as well as the VG team, were waiting.

“What’s up?” asked Ian.

“The U.S. military and Canadian military were aware that someone was manufacturing weapons and bringing them through the U.S. What they weren’t aware of was that the manufacturer is taking orders from people living in the U.S.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Gaspar. “As we well know, just about any idiot can buy a gun here.”

“True. If they are a citizen. Legally,” said Vince.

“Wait a minute,” said Nine, standing with his hands in the air. “Are you telling me that persons in this country illegally are being armed by these people? Handed weapons to make them a larger threat than they might already be.”

“Worse,” said Bull. “They are targeting specific groups of illegal immigrants. Those from the Middle East, Asia, and Russia. They found an audience, and they’re working them with all they’ve got.”

“We have to disrupt their production,” said Gaspar. “Code? What do we know about the place in Russia?”

“I just finished the data this morning. I don’t detect anything nuclear, but there’s enough going in and out that I’m fairly damn sure it’s rifles and handguns. Considering the types of steel being used, that’s the only thing it could be.”

“I sense a ‘but’ in there,” said Nine.

“You’re right. They’re producing thousands of weapons. I don’t know how good they are, but they are enough to fill a cargo ship that left this morning.”

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