Unlikely Hero-16

Just a few sweeps of the dust mop—grin. Ryan Mason has been involved with Alex Cahill in earlier chapters. He also has a romantic interest in Aileen Hailey. He tried to set up Garth’s mother so she would be arrested—in fact he may have killed her.1

Chapter 152

Just after dawn on Friday morning, Ryan Mason entered a ‘Closed’ café that fronted on O’Connell Street in the city of Dublin. He walked nonchalantly to a table by the side window that was already occupied. He nodded at the man and sat down.3

“Just tea,” he ordered from the waitress. As he waited for its delivery, he glanced out the window at the General Post Office across the way. The old building, where Irishmen fought for freedom in 1916, still standing in defiance, always gave him a slight thrill. 4

He knew that was ridiculous. Had he been alive then, his gun would have been aimed at those men in the GPO.5

The man he’d joined was stirring a cup of coffee, which had the aroma of being left simmering too long. His own tea smelled pleasant. He grinned to erase the complaint from his voice. “You got me up damn early.” 6

“We’d rather the English didn’t pull this off,” said the gentleman who sat opposite Mason at the café table. There was a definite Oxford undertone to his English but his skin was ‘Indian dark’. 7

“They know the attempt will take place. The SAS is certain the assassin is traveling undercover of the News media. But they don’t have a clue who he is.” 8

The man added a large helping of sugar to his coffee and stirred it continuously as he went on. “There will be a number of press at the rally, some will be SAS agents. They plan to use his own ploy to get to him.”9

“You’re that sure it’s Cahill?”10

“When you have the best already available, why would you risk anyone else? Cahill is in Germany. His newspaper is doing their usual coverage of the upcoming elections in Bonn.” The man took a sip of his coffee, grimaced and added more sugar. He began to stir again. “Going to be more excitement than usual. How often do you have an admitted Nazi on a major ticket?”11

“Cahill is being paid to cancel Hendricks’s ticket.” Mason drank from his own cup. “You should drink tea,” he said. 12

“I prefer coffee, just not Irish coffee.” He set the spoon in the saucer. “It would a shame if Cahill, himself, were to be canceled. Still, if we thought the SAS would settle for simply eliminating him, we could live with it. If they can manage it they’ll try to take him alive.”13

“Naturally, they want information. But I doubt they can grab Alex. Even if by some quirk they do get him, they won’t get anything out of him. He’s not political. He takes a job, does it and gets paid.”14

“That is why he does such excellent work. We would prefer he take a bit of a financial loss and sit out this round. Hendricks’s chances of being elected are slim, if he does win, he can always be disposed of later. How soon can you leave for Germany?”15

“You want me to stop Cahill? How do I sidestep the SAS?”16

“You will have the advantage over the English. You know who you are looking for and can easily approach him.”17

“And if he’s not willing to take a loss?”18

“He can’t fall into English custody. I don’t want to be defending him at court.” He pushed back his chair and stood up. “Murder trials are a challenge but conspiracies are messy and leave a bad taste in my mouth. Cahill has made a new man of himself. Still, the original is hidden somewhere inside and the English could discover him.”19

Mason waited until the other man left then motioned the waitress over. He ordered a fry of bacon, eggs, and chips. They weren’t alarming him into doing something foolish. He’d check the situation, and if necessary leave for West Berlin in the morning. He was fairly certain he’d find Cahill in Berlin not Bonn. 20

In a way he and Alex had become friends, yet he had no doubt that if the man became a liability, he could dispose of him. 21

Both ruthless men, Mason knew that the only difference in them was he had a cause while Cahill cherished only money. Alex was a cold bloke, cold as an icicle. He smiled up as the waitress set his meal before him.22

The girl was fresh faced. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a tight bun exposing cheeks that had been gently kissed by the sun. The small swell of her breasts and slenderness of her hips appealed to him. He found himself wondering if Alex ever had sex with a woman. 23

In those instances when he saw the man in public places, he never noticed Cahill’s glance latch on to a swaying pair of buttocks, or a set of jiggling breasts, an action that came automatically to other men. 24

Alex had never given the impression of being homosexual. He wasn’t shy about displaying his own body. In those rare instances where he caught him nearly naked, Cahill’s reaction, had been no reaction. Oh well, he was an odd fellow.25

The restaurant had opened and the waitress came across the room toting a newcomer’s order. His eyes followed her attractive rear for a bit, then he sighed and dug into his own food.26

When younger, he’d figured love would come over him in wondrous explosion. The lass would grab his heart, filling it with emotion so strong he could want no one but her. Her beauty, at least in his eyes, would eclipse all other women. Their bodies and souls would meld together as one…nothing so glamorous ever occurred. 27

He planned to ask Aileen Hailey to marry him. Aileen came from a fine family. She wasn’t gorgeous, but a neat little package and they would undoubtedly produce fairly attractive offspring together. Her intelligence made for interesting conversations. She didn’t bore him. Their sexual indulgences, while not soul-searing, were inventive and pleasurable. If he didn’t want to be an old gray-haired bloke bouncing his newborn on his knee, he’d best settle for this comfortable union.28

As a member in the Special Branch of the Guard, Mason’s primary job, during this time of the ‘Troubles’ was to prevent the violence in the North of Ireland from affecting the serenity of the South. 29

He was not required to account for his time. He left the café but didn’t report to his office. Instead, he caught one of the double-decker buses in Pearse Street outside the railroad station. He made his way up the narrow steps to the second level, took a window seat and waited to pay his fare. 30

He only rode the bus for a mile or so and with its many stops was certain he could have reached his destination quicker by walking. 31

He had no choice. If he didn’t emerge from a bus with a ticket in his hand, he wouldn’t be allowed into the building he sought. Instead the place would remain tightly locked and only an all out assault would bring that door down.32

At his stop he left the bus. He turned onto the quay and met the raw stink of the Liffey at low water. He inclined his head and gave a slight nod towards the small tavern wedged in between two rundown office buildings. The name Tara was written in black on a board over the door. In no way remarkable, it was identical to a hundred other Dublin lounges. 33

His hand rose to his shoulder, his ticket held between two fingers, he crossed the quay and walked into the street bar. He made his way to the back lounge, out the alley door, and across a gravel walkway that ended at a door in the office building on the right. He had been announced and that door came open with a light shove.34

Dreary and dark inside, he knew better than to hunt a light. He went straight upstairs, ignoring the first and second and third floors he headed for the attic landing. A long corridor stretched away into the darkness. The sound of his footfalls on the bare plank floor echoed in the stillness. Here and there a few scattered dirty windows allowed a view of roofs and chimneys. Through one he took a quick glance down on the quay and the river. 35

He turned a sharp corner and came to a different flight of stairs and went back down. This was protocol, if he deviated from it in the slightest way he couldn’t gain entrance to the door at the bottom.36

There was a small metal plate on that door with the letters DWC and beneath it was an official post office permit licensing the Dublin Wireless Club to use transmitters on the premises. 37

Mason stepped into the office.38

“An a good mornin’ to ya lad.” Mason nodded in response. The man behind the desk had perfected a Dublin brogue. Though he called himself Connor, Mason was certain the big fellow hadn’t been born on the Island. Burly and fair as a Swede, age played gently with the man. His white-blond hair and wrinkle free skin would have been proper on a twenty year old, but Connor had to be over sixty. 39

Connor could have been baptized Boris, for all Mason knew, but he figured him for a South African.40

“Speak freely?”41

Mason shrugged his shoulders in agreement as he parked in the chair in front of the cluttered desk. He doubted a paper on it was of any value. “You have some action going down in Germany?”42

“Nothing fancy. The Mossad held an unhappy guest. His grieving grand pappy shit out the big bucks so the kid’s back in his arms.”43

“There’s more?”44

“Could be. Ya know somethin’ I don’t?”45

Mason snickered before he said, “Not likely. I hear Cahill’s in Germany?”46

“Possible. Lots of interesting news coming out of the campaigning.” Connor flipped one newspaper on top of another in the pile on the side of his desk. “Not like this crap murder business in Derry.” His tone ripe with disgust he said, “Fucker kills a priest and it hits the headlines and shoves the ‘Troubles’ to the second page. What’s your problem with Alex?”47

“If he’s taken a contract on Hendricks he has to be stopped.”48

“What! Who’d waste good cash on that Nazi puke?”49

“No cash, just a cancellation of the contract.”50

Connor began to chuckle, his pale cheeks reddened, and the chuckle became a laugh before he stopped and eyed Mason and coughed.51

“I know it sounds ridiculous but Cahill has to be stopped.”52

“That’s impossible Ryan. If Alex has gone ‘ghost’ there is no way to contact him ‘til he’s finished. That’s the rule.”53

“Even if it means his life?”54

“Shame to lose such a profitable commodity, but them’s the stakes.”55

Mason didn’t bother to disclose how high the stakes were. If Connor set up the contract, only the outcome would be important to him. It could put a dent in his profits if the SAS grabbed an operative but that was all. If there was a link to him, Connor could move his headquarters at a moment’s notice. 56

When your business was supplying mercenaries, one maintained a hundred bedrooms.57

“Sure wish them Derry lads could shut this fucker Cummins up.” Connor used one big hand to smooth the front page of the Belfast Herald. “Now he’s squealing that some Hailey broad is lying about not remembering him.”58

“What?” Mason just barely covered his surprise.59

“Aye, he claims not only did she stare right at him like he was some bug, when the soldiers let her drive off with nary a few words. But he says he was so pissed off, he drove like hell to catch up to her fancy auto and chased her all the way into Belfast.”