A strong easterly wind bustled Eamonn Mahoney along Merrion Street. Rather than cower, he crammed his fists a little deeper into his coat pockets, squared his shoulders and strode ahead resolutely. A man suddenly with a purpose in life. While passing the Merrion Hotel, a short block north of Baggot Street, he went over in his mind, for the umpteenth time, his presentation to Clancy. It was all so very simple and, even better, the first part of his plan had proven to be foolproof. His ingenious adaptation to the second part would make it bulletproof.
As he requested, Clancy’s people directed him to a priest who proved to be extremely useful, more so than even he could have imagined. A glorious sign. Father William Moynihan’s insight even included the ideal person to contact. The offering he’d made had been money well spent.
Eamonn was all smiles as he turned the corner onto Baggot Street. The money donated, not inconsequential, came out of his pocket, but he knew he’d shortly recoup his investment, and then some. After all, as the good Father himself said, ‘Miracles don’t grow on trees.’ The sun shone down on a glorious Dublin autumn’s day as he strode confidently by the Allied Irish Bank and the coffee shop adjacent on Baggot Street, not even the brisk easterly wind blowing in from the bay could dampen his mood.
Clancy paced the snug at Toners not believing what he was hearing. He was caught midway between laughing out loud and wanting to strangle the little maggot for his temerity. He slumped down onto the thin leather cushion of the pew and took a deep breath. Choosing his words carefully, like selecting from an assorted box of chocolates hoping to make the correct choice, he began.
Are you aware Eamonn, that what you propose has been tried previously and, on that occasion, it failed miserably?
Not so. Hear me out. The robbery worked to perfection. Where they failed was in their ability to launder the money successfully.
The robbery to which Eamonn referred was a bank heist in Belfast carried out by the IRA back in 2004. Twenty-six and a half million British pounds floundered around the countryside for months; the novice criminals unaware how to launder their haul. Comically, a large bundle was planted at a Belfast country club, presumably to throw police off the chase. Another suspect was caught burning bills in his backyard. Three hundred and thirty thousand pounds was even handed into the police because the recipient wasn’t comfortable minding it for a friend.
Eamonn ticked the steps off on his fingers as he paced back and forth.
Step 1 - We don’t get greedy and bite off more than we can chew. Instead, we hit a select few smaller locations all at the same time.
Step 2 - We stick to the Republic and therefore take euros not pounds. These will be much easier to launder on the Continent.
Step 3 - We use professionals who know what they’re doing to launder the money. And by moving it in small shipments, its discovery will be virtually impossible.
Eamonn paused to gauge Clancy’s reaction.
Clancy continued to play devil’s advocate, but his opposition to the plan was waning. The audaciousness of it all intoxicating.
While Eamonn explained the plan, his pacing back and forth became more manic. All doubts about failure long since erased from his mind, and was bursting with anticipation for getting the go-ahead.
He continued, his speech quickening to match his strides.
While Eamonn walked him through the steps one by one, Clancy sat back and examined the ancient wooden trusses running the length of the ceiling. Tracing the knots and whorls of the oak beams helped to unburden his mind while mulling over the plan. Where were his greatest risk points? He’d met with Eamonn on a few occasions, but even if those meetings came to light, they could easily be explained. He knew the priest they’d involved, but he could be trusted. The five men Eamonn needed? He’d have one of his underling’s make that happen. But of what amount were they talking? The risk to himself was small, but was the amount involved worth the risk?
How much do you estimate for this grab?
We hit five banks on the Friday before the October bank holiday. I’m assuming they’ll have additional cash needs for the holiday weekend, so I estimate anywhere from €200,000 to €300,000 from each.
Clancy quickly did the math. Close to a million euros, less a few minor expenses of course. The bulwark of lingering doubt quickly being eroded away by the incoming tide of euro signs.
A smile began to play out across Eamonn’s face. He knew the greedy bastard was sold.
Clancy, for the life of him, still couldn’t quite figure out how these final pieces fit together.
Eamonn explained the role of the Catholic priest, Clancy’s grin slowly grew as wide as his rotund waistline. A small light finally illuminated the dusty attic of his mind, and the jigsaw pieces clicked together to form a lovely tableau. With a clap of hands he jumped to his feet, showing a nimbleness amazing both Eamonn and, truth be told, himself.
Clancy scribbled an address on a slip of paper and handed it to Eamonn. With a quick shake of the hand Clancy was gone, already spending in his mind the €1 million windfall the Sinn Fein coffers would soon receive.
Eamonn sat back on the pew and smiled self-indulgently. He too was thinking of how his cut of the stake would liven up his circumstances.