Chapter 109

 

New Mexico, 1984

 

He placed the coded card face down. The machine swallowed it up, paused, then spat it back and the gate swung open. The paved private road weaved up through well-maintained land that showed only small traces of desert dryness. On a spacious verandah, Mitchell confronted the military stiffness now lacking uniforms. “How soon can we take off?”

“The engines are running. Plenty of fuel around here to waste,” the English captain said. “The big man wants a word with you first. They’ll escort you.” He motioned towards several American peers.

“You know anything about first aid?”

“A bit.”

“Good. The girl’s been injured. Get them to the plane and see what you can do for her.”

“Sir.” A cowboy clad figured reminded, “Mr. Connors is waiting.” His hand gestured impatiently towards the entrance.

As Dan Mitchell was ushered into his presence, the important male didn’t bother to rise from his desk. With a casual flick of his wrist he indicated the circular bar. “Pour yourself a drink,” he offered as the closing door shut them in.

Mitchell declined with slight nod. “We have to leave quickly. Can’t take a chance O’Neill might get wind of this. If he brings in the law?”

There were tired lines etched in John Connors’ face and the dark circles beneath his eyes spoke of sleepless nights. He’d won the election but at what cost? His father lay in a bed attached to machines that breathed, fed, and flushed his body.

His mother sat beside him and whenever she looked at her sons, the accusation in her eyes was clearer than the agony she felt for her husband. She rarely said anything. Bit by bit the woman had been dying herself since Shelia had disappeared. He was certain that now the only thing keeping her going was the need to care for her husband. When his father died, his mother would also…and perhaps this man would soon confirm he’d lost a son.

~~~

 

“Has Dede told you anything, my boy?”

“I haven’t been able to question her. She was injured.”

“Dede’s hurt? How? Damn, they promised nothing would happen to her.”

“It was an accident and she did it herself.”

“I’ll get a doctor.”

“How long would it take even for you to get a doctor we can trust out here?”

“No more than twenty, thirty minutes.”

“Too long.” Mitchell answered. “I’ll call you from London.” And he left the same way he came—in a hurry. He entered a waiting jeep and said little to the cowboy who drove him to the airfield.

~~~

 

As he came through the entrance, the captain, wiping blood from his hands, confronted the inspector with the admission. “The lass is a mess, she needs a doctor. She needs stitching up.”

“She’ll get whatever she needs in London. Now get this bird in the air.”

Moving up the aisle to where Philip Caine had taken a seat, he settled down beside him. Then he gave an honest appraisal. “You’re a mean little bastard.” For which the young man grinned. “You were damn rough on that Irish kid—something personal?”

“Not really.” Caine admitted. “Never met him before. Matt’s got a thing about Dede; he went for her in a big way.”

“Then why did you play caveman?”

“Comes natural. Don’t like foreigners screwing our women.”

As Mitchell watched the hardness in the young face, an idea blossomed into a logical move and he said, “Sean’s pretty jumpy right now. If you were to put a few questions to him you might get some answers. I’m going on the assumption Dede may have passed on a few confidences. But he might not know anything, so don’t play too rough.”

“Sure, worth a try, you got any favorite topics?”

“Try, ‘the fourth of July’?”

“What about it?”

“Just drop it on him—see what reaction you get. Try a few names Baumont, Henry,” he paused and added, “Hanlon.”

“That’s it?”

“Go with your instinct. Something that appears silly might be useful. Remember you’re dealing with a teenage male, you should be an expert at intimidating him.”

“But if I’m not sure what I’m looking for?”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t want you assuming what’s important. By using the boy’s fear of you, I want you drawing what you can out of him.”

“Okay, I’ll play your way. It will pass the time.”

Totally absorbed with keeping Deirdre comfortable, Reed paid no attention as Caine stalked to the rear of the small jet.

~~~

 

Sean O’Donnell had been shoved by Caine into the last seat before the storage area after he’d dragged him up the stairs. The slightest hesitation on Sean’s part brought him an open-handed smack to his head. Since he had no idea who their abusers were or what was taking place, Sean was numbed by the whole occurrence and definitely scared.

When his Uncle Dev had offered him the chance to remain in the States and finish school, things were looking good for him. His relationship with Deirdre O’Neill had rapidly passed from the snuggling to actual sex, and he felt he was becoming a man. The days and nights as the two of them traveled across this vast country had been an incredible dream. He didn’t admit it to Dee, but he felt like a modern day explorer lost in the wheat fields of Kansas or plodding through the open land of Oklahoma. When a monster city rose out of nowhere, he was a spaceman on an alien planet. Then came the desert and he transformed into a cowboy chasing redskins. At times he ridiculed himself for his mind games, realized how juvenile they were and sensed how Deirdre would laugh at him if he told her.

Apart from the sex they enjoyed, things he hadn’t ever thought much about consumed Deirdre’s interest. She could spiel off stories about, and reasons for, and solutions to the eight hundred year old conflicts that plagued his country. She must have done some heavy duty reading, he decided, to know so much. He’d laughed with her at some of things she and her friends had done. She sounded so heroic—now this! This wasn’t a game. He was afraid Deirdre was dying. A bit of consolation came as they attempted to take care of her—so they apparently didn’t want that. The English wanted something else from her?

Considering the first time he’d met her—this wasn’t so surprising. He remembered when Jack Walsh had sent him into Belfast to find her. It was the night Monaghan’s pub was bombed and all those officers were killed. But Dede always swore she’d had nothing to do with it. Of course innocence didn’t always mean anything, his own family’s scrapes with the Brits confirmed that.

Though Sean’s mind remained in overdrive, he was afraid and that had kept him fairly silent. When Caine’s leering grin entered his field of vision, he was incapable of uttering a verbal complaint let alone struggle as he was yanked to his feet and propelled towards the storage bay.

As the door shut behind them, Caine drove his knee into Sean’s butt sending him smashing face first into the hard skin of the plane. Before Sean could recover, Caine grabbed his collar and jerked him around. His palms slammed into Sean’s shoulders straightening his body flush with the wall. Keeping him pinned, he lifted his bent knee and smashed it into the youth’s groin, then stepped back with a short, vile, laugh.

Dizzy with pain, Sean gagged as he bent double then his legs gave way and he slid to the floor.

In a voice filled with contempt, Caine sneered. “Ah, that bitch been overworking junior’s prick. Still pissin’ your pants ya shouldn’t be screwing with whores. Stand up!” With his hands still immobile Sean had difficulty obeying. Growing impatience with the slow progress as the boy used the wall for leverage, Caine grabbed his hair and dragged him to his feet. Slamming Sean’s face into the steel wall, he forced the cuffed hands up passed the boy’s neck and brought his knee into the left elbow while a howl tore from the Sean’s throat.

The sound of that scream sent Reed hurling down the aisle. Hitting the door with his shoulder, the larger youth tackled Caine forcing him off his victim, as he demanded, “What the hell are you doing?”

His arms raised in self-defense as he bounced back from the ship’s hide, Caine growled, “A bit of I ask you answer. His idea.” He tipped his chin towards the entering Mitchell.

Though this beating hadn’t been his actual intent, the inspector, unwilling to waste any opportunity, was already leaning over the prisoner who’d sought security on the floor. He sunk his fingers into the copper hair, simply a guiding action he applied no pressure as he tilted the face upward. “Sean,” was said in a carefully even tone suggesting no threat. “Most likely you’re shocked by all this? But your girlfriend has some information that needs telling.”

“You set this up?”

“Shut up!” Mitchell snapped at Reed’s question. His attention never leaving his victim’s face, Mitchell continued. “Lad, has Dede ever mentioned the ‘fourth of July’ to you?”

Sean, who had drawn his limbs close to his body for protection, answered with a slight negative shake of his head still captured in the man’s fingers. With his free hand, Mitchell extracted a key from his pocket and tossed it to Reed, with the order, “Take the cuffs off.” He still controlled Sean’s head as Reed released his arms.

Sean rubbed gingerly at the throbbing pain in his elbow as he mumbled. “None of this makes sense. I think you’re all bloody crazy.”

Caine said, “Give me ten minutes more.”

“Matt, get him out of here.” The Inspector’s order was followed by Reed’s shove of his friend through the exit.

Alone with the teenager, Mitchell now took a different approach. As he knelt down he offered, “Let’s have a look at that arm?” His gentle probing caused the youth to wince. “Hurts like the blazes, but it’s not broken. Sean? I know you take no part in the games O’Neill and her bunch play. Do you have any idea of the seriousness of their latest actions?” Sean only turned his head slowly side to side. “Come on,” Mitchell helped the boy stand. “We’ll get you something for the pain. Maybe then you’ll feel more like answering.”

“Got nothing to answer for. Got no idea what you’re after.”