Angels Fallen (28 page)

The Craggy Dog Marina contained all of the prerequisites the new generation of yuppie retirees demanded in t
heir new abodes: a freshwater lap pool with a swim-up bar, an on-site health club, tennis courts, and a 200-foot pier suitable for fishing. To top it off, the weather hovered around a constant 85 to 90 degrees.

Only 17
boats lay tied up to its piers, a number that could easily reach a peak of 40 in winter. The boats in residence ranged from a “low-end” 23 footer to a “high-end” 50 footer.

Eian
exited the marina’s office dressed in sandals, baggy white shorts, and Hawaiian print shirt, topped off with a panama hat.  His arm hung precariously in a sling.

Having squared off his debt with Mike Dolan in Philly,
he was free and clear of everyone but possibly the FBI, Interpol, or the British SAS.

He
was following directions provided by the head Craggy Dog himself, but he had a strange feeling that the rather large boat at the edge of the marina belonged to Dan. It dwarfed the rest of the boats by at least 10 feet, the name “Irish Rebel” painted prominently in emerald green on its stern. 

Exactly the type of boat Dan said he would buy
.

At
50 feet, the “Commander Special” slept six, with a full galley, two bathrooms or
heads
in nautical speak, teak decking, and a small two-person hot tub on the stern. 

Yes, Dan was a man of his word.

A familiar Jimmy Buffet tune resonated through the humid air, tracing its origin to the “Irish Rebel.” Evidently the party had already started. He approached within five feet of the boat’s stern when he heard a loud metallic click from behind, the same unmistakable click a 45-caliber made when locking a round into its chamber. Eian dropped his bag on the dock, still facing the boat, waiting for the inevitable.

He should have realized i
t was too good to be true. The cops were on to Dan.

“Damn
it,” was all Eian could muster in response, looking to the water as an escape route, his lame arm quickly extinguishing that notion.
Just when I had a few dollars in my pocket, the clouds of illusion part to drop a bit of rain.

The
gun now pressed against the base of his skull, only prolonging Eian’s agony.  “Just friggin shoot me,” he said aloud, wondering where the rest of the arresting officers were placed.

Deciding it was too much for Eian to handle
, but still prolonging his agony by waiting several seconds, Dan replied in a low voice, disguising it as best as possible: “Eian, you old sea dog, give your long-lost cousin a hug.”

Eian turned slowly to face Dan, his face now devoid of all color.

“You scared the shit out of me. Jesus, what the hell did you do that for?” Eian said, pointing to the gun in Dan’s hand.

Dan howl
ed with laughter before extending his hand in welcome. “We’re just having some fun at your expense. Let’s go on board my new vacation home so I can show you around.”

Jim
exited the galley with a pitcher of frosted margaritas and glasses as Dan and Eian were boarding.

Eian followed Dan, shaking his head, still fretting about the practical joke at his expense. 

Jim stood with his arm extended. “I can’t believe it. I think I’m seeing a ghost. Eian, shake my hand you Irish sod. I see you made it out of that little hassle at Millville. We heard about the aircraft and your friends’ demise from the CNN story that broke. The American government still doesn’t know what the hell happened at the airport. They think it was somehow connected to drugs.”

It was Eian’s turn to apply some of his own heat, turning to face Dan, a question he had wanted to ask since the
Millville incident. “Tell me the truth, Danny. Those English bastards were really after you, right? They finally caught up with the great Flaherty.” 

A smile masked Dan’s silence.

Eian, knowing he was right, continued. “Those Brits must be pissed that you screwed them.” He looked at both men before choosing to continue. “But remember, gentlemen, they found six dead bodies in the wreckage or its proximity;
the four British SAS troopers and Colin and Sean
.”

“Are you saying…
” Jim said, slamming his hand down on the table.

“Yes, I am.  From the stories in the papers, they think either Colin or Sean is really one Dan Flaherty. And who could dispute them? Both bodies were burned beyond recognition. If you think about it, you are dead as far as they are concerned, so they will not be coming after you. The great Dan Flaherty, a dead man.  They will be in mourning at
Whitehall on that one. But first things first. Business being business. Before I have my first drink, I was hoping for my little bonus that was promised to me, that and a little vacation time on your yacht here,” a sweep of his hand took in the surroundings.

Dan poured Eian a frosty margarita, passing it across to him. “Come on, Eian, asking for
the money so quickly? That’s not being polite. Did you already lose your cash at the tables?”

“You should have seen the lovely lass I had sitting beside me. I had a syste
m, Dan. It was working up until…”

“
Up until you lost it all,” Dan replied, knowing his friend all too well. “That’s it my friend. I’m keeping you on an allowance so you can keep most of your cash in the future. I owe it to your sweet mother.
God rest her soul
.  That and we may be willing to cut you in on Jim’s next little adventure.”

Eian took the frosty glass in hand, wiping the excess salt from around its rim. “What do you mean little adventure? You almost succeeded in getting me knocked off
on your last
little adventure
.”

Eian downed
the margarita with one long swallow, placing the empty glass down in front of Dan, indicating he’d like another.

Dan nodded. “You are one of us, Eian, an adrenaline junkie. Now as I see it, we owe you $250,000 from our last trip, and if we are successful on our next one, you could clear close to $1.2 million. How does that sound? Such a beautiful figure, wouldn’t you say?”

Eian’s eyes went wide. “If I heard you say $1.2 million, then it would be a pleasure to do business with gentlemen of your caliber.”

Jim moved toward the boat
’s aft head, gaining Eian’s attention as he did. “All right, gentlemen, enough of the petty stuff.  Let’s get down to the reason why we are here. This information is coming to us via our new partner,” knocking on the door leading to the boat’s head, waiting for its occupant to exit.

An older man emerged, wiping his hands on a paper towel, a forced smile upon his face.

“Gentlemen, may I introduce you to someone who has kept the authorities running in the wrong direction over the past few months, Mr. Perluci, formally of the Vatican Intelligence Bureau.

THE END

***As an added bonus, the following 8 pages are from “Fury from Within”, Francis Joseph Smith’s first book.***

FURY FROM WITHIN

Prologue

Berlin – April 1945

He shuffled into the bunker corridor-half bent, dragging his left foot, the left arm shaking uncontrollably. Although he was 5 foot 8 inches tall, now, with his head and body twisted to the left, he looked much smaller. The eyes that his admirers had once called “magnetic” were feverish and red, as if he had not slept for days. His face was puffy, and its color was a blotchy, faded gray. A pair of pale green glasses hung from his right hand; bright light bothered him now. For a moment he gazed expressionlessly at his generals as their hands shot up and out to a chorus of “Heil Hitler.”

The corridor was so crowded that Hitler had some difficulty getting past everyone to reach the bunkers small conference room. Slowly, as though in pain, Hitler scuffled to his place at the head of the table. He motioned for those about him to sit before turning to the colorful maps that were spread out on the table in front of him. He managed a slight smile as he anxiously tapped the maps of his ever shrinking empire
.

His hands trembled as he shuffled his notes, deciding it best to lay them on the table.  He knew t
he Russian threat had to be taken seriously. They were at the very edge of Berlin itself.  As he was about to speak, there was a loud commotion in the hall and the vast bulk of Goering filled the doorway of the little conference room. Pushing his way in, Goering heartily greeted those present, pumped Hitler’s hand vigorously and excused himself for being late.

He then addressed Hitler: “My Fuhrer,” he began, “What you have asked of me a fortnight ago has been accomplished.” He smiled about the room as if a child who had just pleased his parents.

Hitler suddenly came to life. He pounded on the table in front of him. “Faith!” he yelled. “Faith and a strong belief in success will make up for all of your inefficiencies!” He looked about the room as if 10 years younger than when he entered. His face now crimson, the gray since vanished, his eyes vibrant once more. “Field Marshall Goering has brought me the best news of the war.” He turned to his generals assembled about the small table. “I will tell you,” he yelled, if you are conscious of the fact that this war should be won, it will be won! If your troops are given the same belie
f
—
then you will achieve victory, and the greatest success of the war!”

In the tense silence that followed, Hitler dismissed all about him but Goering, motioning for him to stay. Goering nodded before closing the room’s door. Now, just the two of them stood face to face about an empty room.

Hitler took the seat at the head of the table; Goering took a chair beside him. It was remarkable the change in Hitler’s health, if just for the moment.

“My Fuhrer,” Goering began, “I can still have you flown out within the hour. We don’t have long before the whole city is surrounded. You can go to Bavaria and bring our product to our engineers. They have been working for years to achieve our miracle.  They only lacked the material to set the bomb in motion. In a matter of days they could have a working prototype ready for use against our enemies. It must be you, My Fuhrer!”

Hitler shook his head. “No,” he said meekly, “I have made my decision to stay. I shall not leave Berlin. I will defend the city with my troops to the end. Either I will win the battle for our Reich’s capital or I shall die as a symbol for the Reich.”

Goering thought his decision was madness. “I must insist,” he said to Hitler, “you must leave for Berchtesgaden within the hour.”

Hitler refused to hear anymore. “I want you to fly to Berchtesgaden but not before our guests arrive,” he yelled at Goering, before leaving the room.

A ½ mile from the Bunker, along
  the East-West Axi
s
—
the broad highway running from the river Havel on the west to the Unter den Linden on the eas
t
—
a plane suddenly swept in and landed, maneuvering up to the Brandenburg Gate. It was a small Fieseler Storch piloted by General Ritter von Greim and a well known German Aviatrix named Hanna Reitsch. The two had been summoned to Berlin by Goering and Hitler.

Goering knocked once on the door
leading into Hitler’s private quarters before entering. As he entered he saw Hitler sitting in a chair facing a painting of Fredrick the Great; he was having a one-way conversation with the painting. He cleared his throat before announcing: “My Fuhrer, they have arrived!”

General von Greim and Hanna Reitsch were escorted into Hitler’s private quarters. Hitler beamed as he gracefully took Hanna’s hand, kissing it softly before releasing it. He curtly nodded to General von Greim. “I have a mission for you that could help save Germany,” he said before providing them the details. Ten minutes later they were escorted back to their awaiting plane and a metal suitcase was placed in its rear.

Their plane never arrived at its Salzburg destination; crash landing somewhere within the Soviet lines. Its case disappearing for 30 odd years……….

Chapter One

Washington DC - Capitol - Present Day

The senior congresswoman from Pennsylvania anxiously tapped the senate podium's angled microphone, verifying its acoustics for the third time since her one-on-one meeting with the Presiden
t
—
a meeting where he had overtly threatened her life
.

Her hands trembled as she shuffled her notes, deciding it best to lay them on the podium.  She knew t
he Presidents threat had to be taken seriously due to his former directorship at the
CIA.  The President had informed her that she would be signing her own death warrant if she went public with her claims.