Running on Empty (26 page)

Tom said nothing, just stared at the sparks from the fire as they danced up the chimney.

‘Tom?’

‘Oh sorry, what?’

‘I was wondering why you’re so interested in him?’

‘Did your father have blonde hair like you?’

‘What the fuck is this Tom, twenty questions? What are you thinking?’

‘Just bear with me a minute. Did you ever try and trace his natural mother, your grandmother?’

‘None of the records from that orphanage at that time appear to be on computer. If they were, I would have found them, believe me. And yes, he had blonde hair, just like me. Now, any chance of letting me in on your little secret?’

‘It’s probably just coincidence, so don’t go reading too much into it ok?’

‘What?’

‘Well, where I was in Boston, next door was an old German woman. She was in her eighties. Anyway, I got to talking with her a couple of days before I had to take off’.

‘And?’

Well, she told me that she lived in Paris in the early fifties. She had a child, a boy, by this guy from South Dakota, Josh Dexter his name was. Anyway, he went back home when his mother died, just before she found out she was pregnant, and she was ‘left holding the baby’ sort of speak. She had no choice but to put the baby up for adoption. She gave birth in Fondation d’Auteuil, December 1953’.

Grainne was stunned.

‘There’s more. Although this Josh guy was part Native American, both he and the baby were blonde. I donno, it seems very coincidental, don’t you think?’

Grainne spoke in an a low, deliberate voice.

‘When I was young, if I was being obstinate or cheeky, sometimes my mother used say to me ‘Grainne Fahey, that stubborn streak you have, I swear to God that’s the German coming out in you’, and I’d say ‘what German?’ and she always answered back ‘oh, just someone your father knew.

What’s her name?’

‘Ella Stein.’

‘Ella Stein’ she repeated, almost to herself.

‘So, do you think this woman is your grandmother?’

‘Well Tom, how many blonde babies were born in Fondation d’Auteuil in December 1953 would you imagine? You do the math. These clothes aren’t fully dry yet, but they’ll have to do. It’s coming up to that time, and we want to be ready to roll as soon as we get the word’ she said as she began to pull on her jeans.

Pat walked through the fields until he stood at the base of the wind turbine. He placed his sniper rifle on the ground, and the ladder against the side of the giant tower. He picked up the rifle, and began climbing until he reached the inspection platform, twenty feet up. Once settled, he kicked the ladder out, toppling it to where it nestled in the long grass.

I hope the lads make it back for me,
he thought,
otherwise I’ll end up starving to death on the side of this bloody windmill.

He brought the field glasses hanging around his neck up to eye level, and scanned the horizon. As he did so, large droplets of rain began exploding all around him.

Fuck it, I won’t be able to see anything in this shit.

He looked up to the skies, squinting through the pounding rain, trying to see how long it was going to last. The deluge continued for a number of minutes, then stopped as abruptly as it had started. He was soaked clean through in those few minutes, but he didn’t even notice as he returned field glasses to eyes and quickly looked again.

No harm done
, he thought,
nothing yet.

He checked the positions of the others. Shay and Dan stood beside the tractor, its right side wheels resting in a ditch. Robbie lay prone between two rocks in the ring fort, the butt of the AK47 nuzzled in his shoulder. Pat knew that if one group were to approach from along the shore, they should be spotted first, as they’d have to be in position before a vehicle could approach from the road. He kept scanning the shoreline. Finally, he spotted movement along the water’s edge, about four hundred yards away.

I see you ya slimy fucker, now where are your buddies?

Moments later he saw the second one, followed shortly after by a third, all appearing to have great difficulty in clambering over the seaweed covered rocks. He picked up his cell phone, calling first Robbie, as he was nearest the approaching targets, followed by a call to Dan and Shay.

‘Robbie, there’s three of them coming up the shoreline from Easky direction, about four hundred yards. The way they’re slipping and sliding over the rocks, it might take a while. If you have a good book with you, you might get a few chapters in while you’re waiting. I’ll give you a call at one-fifty yards, make sure your phones on pager. Out’.

Pat kept alternating between watching the human crabs on the rocks, and checking the approach road. When they reached about one hundred and fifty yards, he rang again.

Robbie’s cell phone vibrated quietly.

‘Robbie, they’re at one fifty. Hold on, they’ve stopped. One of them is talking on a phone. They’re probably telling the others they’re approaching position, and to start driving. One has a rifle of some sort, can’t identify it from this distance, can’t see anything on the other two, reckon they just have side arms. Hang on, rifle man is starting towards your position. Must have spotted the elevated ground. Don’t take any chances Robbie, he gets to thirty and you pop him. Over’.

Pat also noticed the one who was on the phone, most likely giving instructions to the car, fitted the description Tom had given. He quickly checked for approaching traffic. At the top of the lane, about half a mile away, a silver Pathfinder was turning off the main road. The men at the tractor would be hearing the approaching vehicle just about now.

Shay turned towards Pat, perched high up on the wind turbine, and signaled.

Approaching the endgame now,
thought Pat,
patience.

He turned away from the men at the tractor, and back to the seashore. Lowanski was off his cell, and on the move again. Rifle man was about fifty yards from Robbie’s position. He quickly checked the road. The pathfinder was rolling to a stop before the stricken tractor. He turned back to the shore, put the rifle to his shoulder, adjusted the sight, and waited.

Listen for the sounds,
he thought to himself,
be ready.

Rifle man had stopped now, looking around as if unsure of himself. Lowanski was bringing up the rear. Pat trained the split-hairs of the scope on the middle man.
Patience, patience, patience,
he repeated to himself, over and over, almost hypnotically. The driver’s window whirred down.

‘How’s it going lads, are ye lost?’

‘Can you move that tractor out of the way, we need to get by’.

‘Yeah, we’re just tryin’ to get her out of the ditch, shouldn’t take a minute’ said Dan, smiling as he approached the vehicle, his hand on the pistol in his belt which nestled in the small of his back. Without warning, the Glock was at chest level, rapidly discharging two shots into the driver’s face, while simultaneously Shay fired twice through the rear passenger window, hitting his target once in the shoulder, and once in the head. The front seat passenger, distracted by the noise, blood and mayhem erupting all around him, got his hand as far as his shoulder holster, before he too was eliminated.

On the sound of gunfire, Pat exhaled slowly, squeezing the trigger ever so gently, as his rifle fired.

A hole the size of a cherry appeared in the middle assailants forehead, while a large mass of skull and tissue the size of a grapefruit exited the rear of what remained of his skull. Even before the bullet had reached its target, Pat heard the sound of Robbie’s weapon being repeatedly fired. Without even looking, he knew the state of play. Five down, one to go.

Lowanski.

Pat knew what had to be done. He needed Lowanski alive. He scanned through the scope, looking for his prey. He knew he couldn’t be far from his last confirmed position. Then he spotted him. Lowanski had dived between some rocks, and was crawling on his hands and knees, trying to remain under cover. Pat watched, and waited. He finally spotted his opportunity. Lowanski’s left calf was in view. He fired. Lowanski’s shin bone exploded into a hundred splintering fragments.

Bingo.

Pat quickly looked in Robbie’s direction. Everything ok there, Robbie crouching over his lifeless target. Pat turned to the tractor. Shay and Dan were still standing, another success. He rang Shay.

‘Everything ok? Good, well done lads. Can you get over here and get this ladder back up. Thanks’.

Robbie next.

‘Ok your end, Robbie? Excellent. Hold your position, but be careful. I only winged Lowanski. He may still be armed, and dangerous. I’ll be over to you in a minute’.

He climbed down from his nest, and swopped his rifle for Shays handgun. He made his way over to Robbie, and the two of them, well separated, cautiously approached where they expected Lowanski to be. They needn’t have worried. Lowanski had involuntarily tossed his weapon away as the bullet hit, the gun lying on a bed of seaweed several yards away, while he lay on his side, holding what remained of the leg with his hands and whimpering. ‘Well mister Lowanski, the pleasure’s all mine’ said Pat, as he and Robbie grabbed an arm each, and began dragging the now screaming Lowanski back up the lane towards the old cottage. Once inside, his hands were cable tied behind his back, and what remained of his legs were also bound together as he sat on an old kitchen chair. Then Pat moved outside to instruct Shay and Dan.

‘Well done lads. I see you haven’t lost your touch. Here’s what I want ye to do. Gather up the debris from the car and the shore, and load them into the rib. You’ll find concrete blocks and nylon rope in the back shed. Tie those fuckers up well and good, bring them for a little spin about a mile out to sea, and feed them to the fishes. When you get back, collect the jeep on the next road and bring it back here. Park it in the hay barn, then take this other jeep over to Mick O’Reilly the mechanic in Bonneyconnelan. He’ll know what to do. When it’s back to its original state, tomorrow or the next day, bring both vehicles back to the car hire. Tell them the businessmen had to catch a flight to Dublin due to an urgent meeting arising, or some such shite, collect their paperwork and head home. But first, before you do all that, do you know the old bath in the back field, the one used as a cattle trough? Half fill it with water, bring it to the cottage, and stand it over at the far wall of the room where that prick is. Make sure he can’t see into it. Alright? Thanks lads for all your help. We’ll talk soon’. As Shay and Dan began their tasks, he took out his cell phone and dialed Grainne.

‘Hey GF, the party’s over. You and your friend can head back now’. Incidentally, ask your friend there the first name of our mutual acquaintance who’s come to visit him. Right, that’s great, thanks. Talk to you soon’.

He moved back inside to Robbie, who stood over Lowanski sitting on the chair, sobbing quietly.

‘Now mister Lowanski, or should I call you Stan, as I feel I know you already?’

He started again.

‘Now Stan, where do we begin? I must say you seem like a nice guy and everything, and you never did anything on me, so I shouldn’t have any gripe with you. Unfortunately however, you made an attempt on a number of occasions to kill my nephew, which wasn’t very nice, not to mention the small matter of murdering his girlfriend, Christine, and attempting to do the same to his other friend, Sally. This involves family, and I’m sure you’re aware that here in Ireland, attacks on one’s family are frequently frowned upon. So, with that in mind, I’d like to ask you politely, what the fuck is going on?’

‘Do you know who I am, you stupid Irish fucker’ began Lowanski through gritted teeth. ‘I’m a government agent, here on official business, and very soon this place is going to be swarming with cops, and I’ll have you and your whole family fucking killed. There’s a satellite hovering over your head this very minute, and computers and all sorts of shit are tracking you down’.

‘Interesting you should say that, Stan, and I would sure be worried, should that be the case. However, as you appear to belong to some renegade group, and not here in an official capacity, I somehow doubt if what you say is true. Funny you should mention talk of satellites and such. We’re well aware that the American government possesses a vast array of hi-tec information gathering equipment, satellites and drones and computers and all sorts of fancy do-da’s. Here in Ireland, we’re not privy to such advanced technology. However, needs must, and you might be surprised to learn that even a place as humble as this little cottage here has common everyday items which are quite efficient at gathering information if used in the right hands’.