Page 53 of Dublin Debacle

The old man shook his head. “No. Like you, I thought he was dead. Imagine my surprise when he stepped up beside me in the supermarket on the fresh produce aisle, wearing a trench coat, a flat cap and a full beard.” Emily’s uncle chuckled. “I thought I saw and heard a ghost and nearly knocked over a display of apples.”

Emily’s frown softened. “Is that why you were attacked behind the pub?”

Paddy nodded. “They wanted me to tell them where he could be found.”

“You know where he is?” Emily asked.

“No,” Paddy said. “I told him I didn’t want to know, that he would have to contact me via burner phones and supermarket meetups.” His lips twisted. “I’m not going to lie. If I could have, I might’ve told them where to find him.” He rubbed a hand over his chest and winced.

Emily took her uncle’s hand. “Instead, you took one for the team.” She lifted her chin. “You need to lie low and not go out until this situation is resolved.” When he started to say something, Emily raised a hand. “At the very least, you need to lie low until you heal. You’re not a spring chicken anymore.”

“This old body can take a lot more than you think.” He tried to sit up, groaned and sank back against the pillows. “Well, it was three against one.”

Emily smiled. “If my father contacts you, let him know that I know he’s alive and kicking, and that I’m glad. I had a feeling that wasn’t him in the car.”

Her uncle raised an eyebrow. “Really? How so?”

“No ring on his hand,” she said. “He never takes off his wedding ring.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to her uncle’s forehead. “Stay inside and safe.”

“You’re a good lass, Emily O’Brien. So much like your lovely mother,” Paddy said. “You need to stay safe. From what I heard, they have you in their crosshairs now. They might think you know where to find Seamus.”

Jack stepped forward and cupped Emily’s elbow. “I’ll keep an eye on her, sir.”

“I trust you will,” Paddy said.

They left the old man’s room to find Aoife and Atkins waiting in the hallway.

“He’s full of sass and orneriness, is he not?” Aoife said with a grin.

“He is,” Emily said. “I’m glad. I was worried.”

“We’ll take good care of him,” Atkins said.

Aoife nodded. “Before long, he’ll be back on his feet, driving you crazy.”

As they left the doctor’s garden and slipped into the Mercedes, Jack’s cell phone chimed with an incoming text from Lucie.

With the message, she sent two images. One from the photo he’d taken of the dead man, the other a picture of the same man, not so gray and apparently alive at the time the photograph had been taken.

Lucie: Your stiff is Frank Bycowski, former Idaho SWAT team and diehard survivalist. Last suspected employment was with Shadow Syndicate, an organization notorious for providing guns for hire to the highest bidder for personalized takedowns, including target neutralization. I take it you are aware of the resurrection of Seamus O’Brien?

Jack’s jaw hardened as he responded to Lucie’s text.

Jack: I expect full disclosure on assignments. Why was this information kept from me?

Lucie: Mr. O’Brien asked that we not share the knowledge until he knew how badly his cover was blown. He suspected the attacks were being conducted by a third party, not the Radicals or Travellers.

Jack: Now that we know the truth, what’s the plan?

Lucie: Taking it to the boss for guidance. In the meantime, I’ll follow the money trail from Bycowski to the source.

Jack: Roger. Thanks.

Emily drove the Mercedes away from the doctor’s apartment complex. She shot a glance toward him. “News from your friends at the Brotherhood?”

Jack nodded. “The dead man was a mercenary.”

Emily’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Do you think the ones who attacked Finn and Ciara are the same ones targeting the Radicals and the Travellers? All the attacks have been by men in black ski masks.”

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