Black Diamond (16 page)

Ten took another swallow. I could see in his eyes that he was back in those days. I kept the silence until he was ready.

“That next day, the marchin' started, to the surprise of no one. It started in the Protestant section and wound through the streets toward the Catholic border. I could see the men I spoke of at the top of the buildings on the corner. They were ready and waitin' to toss the bombs. I could just see the first of the marchers roundin' the bend up the next block. I said a prayer, ‘Sweet Jesus, prevent this.' I'd just said it when the whole damn block shook. There was an explosion a block away. It was an old empty building. No one around to be hurt. Some of the soldiers and police ran to it, while the others disbanded the march and sent everyone home. They all went home with their lives.”

“Are you saying—?”

“I'm sayin' there wasn't a man in that group that didn't know it was Seamus set off that blast, and why he did it.”

“Did he get away with it?”

“It's not likely you'll ever see it. But if you ever do see his back
without his shirt on, you'll know the price he paid at the hands of his own for the lives of the other side.”

There was nothing either of us could say for the next minute. We finished our pints before shaking hands in the parting. I recalled the words of Superintendent Phelan of the Garda who put me in touch with Ten Sullivan, “If nothing else comes of it, you'll have made the acquaintance of a man worth remembering.”

By late afternoon, I was packed and ready to catch the late-evening plane out of Dublin Airport. My last act at the Gresham was to tip the concierge. Since I'd arrived, he'd been ready with directions, information, chat, or a bit of Irish humor, depending on my need of the moment.

“Safe trip, Mr. Knight. Come back to us. Can I get you a car to the airport?”

He took my bag and saw me off with a smile. On another occasion, the smile would have brought me a glow and good thoughts for what lay ahead. As it was, I sank back into the car seat with the hollow feeling that whatever I'd accomplished in Dublin would bring nothing but the pain of confirmed loss to Colleen. I tried to force myself to think beyond that moment when I'd have to wrench out her last ember of hope for seeing Erin alive. In place of hope I could offer her a funeral. Whatever the hell “closure” meant, it seemed overrated.

I was gently jarred out of my dark thoughts by the voice from the front seat. “Mr. Knight, would you permit me a short detour?”

I checked my watch. “How short?”

“No worries. I'll have you there and time to spare.”

I drifted back and just put my mind in neutral until I felt the car pull to a stop in the yard behind a small cottage. Even in the dark, I noticed that we were now well into the countryside with no other buildings or sign of life in sight. I watched my driver get out
and open the car door beside me. “I think you should come with me, Mr. Knight.”

That gentle invitation put every nerve on combat alert. Four words sprang to mind. “Dear God, not again.”

I looked up at him. “Do you suppose you could tell me who's staging this command performance?”

He kept a gentle voice. “Think of it more as an invitation than a command.”

Ambush though it probably was, his voice had a calming effect. I followed him into the darkness of a one-room cottage that looked like a scene out of
The Quiet Man
. The only light in the room came from a stone fireplace half the size of one wall with a peat fire that sent warmth through the entire body, as only a peat fire can.

The driver pointed to one of two wooden rocking chairs that faced the fire. It wasn't until I was seated that I noticed the man in the other rocking chair. He looked tall even in a slouch, with a body that was muscular but somehow depleted of the energy to move.

“You'll forgive me for not risin', Mr. Knight.”

The flickering light from the fire picked up the deep lines in his face that bespoke suffering from some cause that was not obvious.

“How do you know me?”

That brought a smile that had nothing to do with humor. He took a deep breath before speaking. “You're better known than you know, Mr. Knight.”

That brought no comfort. “And do I get to know your name?” I asked, though I knew to a certainty the answer.

“My name, for the little importance of it, is Seamus McGuiness.”

I had the quiet urge to check my watch for the flight time, but there was something about that face and voice that grabbed and held my entire attention. I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

“I'm glad we met, Mr. McGuiness. I don't know exactly why, but
I'd have felt I'd missed something if we hadn't. And just in time. I have a flight in two hours.”

“I hope not, Mr. Knight.”

That was a stunner. “And why would that be? I came here for one reason. I've gone as far as I can with it. I have business at home. Perhaps you're aware of that.”

He seemed to force himself to shift from one uncomfortable position to another at great expense to his store of energy.

“I'll not be wastin' your time. God knows there's precious little of it. I'll be askin' a service of ya.”

“Mr. McGuiness, I'd probably be willing to do whatever it is you want at any other time. Right now, something's pressing.” I had my upcoming conversation with Colleen in mind and no desire to postpone it. I stood up.

“I'll thank you to sit down, Mr. Knight. I'm nearly finished.”

“Why me? You have all of Ireland to call on. And I have a plane to catch.”

He was seized with a fit of coughing. When he leaned to the side, my eye caught a drop of liquid splashing on a pool under his chair. When I focused, the fire lit up the deep crimson color.

“Mr. McGuiness, you're bleeding. Is there a hospital or a doctor?”

He just waved off the idea and shook his head between coughs. “No time. Why you, you're askin'. Because if you're half the man Ten Sullivan thinks you are, you'll not deny a man's last request.”

I must have looked blank, because he forced a grin. “Pardon the dramatics. But I have to settle this now.”

The pool beneath him was growing steadily. His strength, such as it was, seemed to be flowing out with every drop of the liquid.

I relented enough to ask, “What's the request?”

He seemed to drop back against the back of the rocker to gather strength for his next words. “I'll ask you to get back in the car. Just go with Mr. Kearney.”

“And?”

“That's all I'll be sayin'. Just go with him.”

I looked at the man who was apparently Mr. Kearney for illumination. He said nothing.

“I'm afraid, Mr. Knight, that Mr. Kearney knows almost as little as you do. And so it must be. A bit of faith. Just go where he takes you. And quickly, if you would. Not much time.”

It went against everything inside of me to leave any man with the life pouring out of him with every new drop of blood. On the other hand it already seemed too late. He pressed me once more with what seemed like the last words he had the strength to speak.

“Go now, Mr. Knight. And God be with you.”

“I think God knows I'm completely in the dark, Mr. McGuiness. I'll do what you ask. I'm praying that He's with the both of us.”

He smiled a resigned and even contented smile. “In a very short time, I'll convey your prayer to Him personally.”

I got back in the car with Mr. Kearney with just one clear thought in mind. There's not a chance in hell I'll make my flight out of Dublin. The many ramifications of that thought bounced around my consciousness as we drove over country roads barely the width of a car. It was at least twenty minutes later when we pulled up in front of what looked from the dark outline to be a church.

Mr. Kearney opened the car door for me, and led the way up the few stone steps to the church door. Mr. Kearney, who seemed to know at least that much of the plan, rapped loudly on the heavy wooden door.

We waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity until I heard shuffling footsteps approach from the other side. The door opened with a creak that bespoke the ancient origin of the church. There was just enough backlight from within to illuminate the bent form of an elderly man in a priest's cassock.

Mr. Kearney spoke first. “Seamus McGuiness sent us, Father. This is Michael Knight from the United States.”

The only feature I could make out in the semidarkness was a nervous smile that creased the old priest's face. His eyes scanned my
face and then darted over my shoulder for a glimpse of anyone or anything that might have followed us. His voice seemed more energetic than his appearance.

“Come in, come in, Mr. Knight. Quickly. You're a sight I never thought I'd see.”

I came in in a state of total bewilderment. He took my hand and shook it with unexpected sincerity. “Would ya come this way now?”

This priest, whose footsteps earlier sounded like the labored trodding of old age, had an urgency when he walked ahead of me. He led me to a room to the left side of the altar and lit a dim light. “If you'd wait here, Mr. Knight. Sit, if you please.”

I could wait, but I couldn't sit. His burst of nervous energy had my own nerves on edge as well. I spent perhaps five minutes pacing, wondering what on earth would come through that door when he came back.

When the latch on the door sounded its opening, I spun around. All I could make out was a large woman in what looked like the flowing black robes of a nun. I walked toward her with my eyes straining to make out the form of something in her arms.

We were twenty feet apart, when she set down on the floor a tiny form that stood frozen for a moment. Then it seemed to move uncertainly in my direction. My mind refused to believe what every sense and instinct was screaming inside of me. Somehow, disbelief was suddenly shattered in both of us at the same moment. The two of us ran together so hard that we both just spun in circles when I clutched her in my arms. I held that tiny form so close that I was afraid of crushing it, until I realized that those little arms were holding me just as tightly. Between that face, with its nose burrowing into my cheek, and my own face there flowed an avalanche of tears that I couldn't begin to control.

I was almost afraid to open my eyes to find that it wasn't true, but I knew the touch of that little cheek against mine so well that all doubt was overcome. I was actually standing there holding this angel that I thought was gone forever.

When we could finally separate enough so that I could see her clearly, I realized that the tears were not all mine. When she called me Uncle Mike and said she wanted to see Mommy, I have no idea what kept my heart from bursting.

It must have been five minutes before I realized that there were two others in the room. Even by that dull light, I could see that there was enough eye liquid to go four ways. The first to speak was the priest.

“Mr. Knight, you're a gift from God. Seamus said you'd be here, but I could only pray. And thank God for it. But time is precious now. Arrangements have been made. Sister Margaret, would you get Erin's things ready?”

Sister Margaret took Erin to get her ready. The priest, who introduced himself as Father Flaherty, asked me to sit for a minute. I did, and he pulled a chair up next to me.

“I'll be talking fast. We've made the reservations. You'll be flying home with Erin, but not from Dublin Airport. That could be risky. Mr. Kearney will drive you to Shannon Airport. You'll be there in time.”

“Thank you, Father. I'm catching up as fast as I can. What about documents for Erin?”

“We have them for you. We have an American passport for Erin and plane tickets for you both.”

“I should cancel my tickets on the flight from Dublin.”

“I wouldn't. There are those I'd rather have think you're going through with your original plans. It's a small price to pay.”

“That's fine, Father. My mind's spinning. How did—?”

“It's a long story, but I'll be brief. There's a gang from over here in Ireland, I'm ashamed to say, arranged for the kidnapping of Erin. I'm not sure why, but there it is. They brought her over here from America and kept her somewhere in Dublin.”

“Was Seamus McGuiness involved, Father?”

“He's been associated with that crowd, I'm sorry to say it, from back in another time.”

“You mean—”

“During the Troubles. I have to be brief, Mr. Knight. When he heard that there was a little girl involved in their plans, he'd have no more of it. But he pretended to stay involved in their business. It was he who saw to it that she was well taken care of while she was with them. Then he heard that they were going to do away with her. God help us. That little angel.”

I could see that his emotions were reaching the surface. I started to speak, but he held up a hand.

“I have to finish while there's time. Seamus won their confidence. He volunteered to do that terrible thing. They trusted him. He took Erin and brought her to us for safekeeping. Then he staged a burial with the undertaker. Empty coffin and all. It worked until this afternoon. That gang of cutthroats caught on. They forced the undertaker to tell them the truth. Then they went after Seamus. Whatever they did to him, he didn't tell them she was with us. When they were through with him, they left him to die. He managed to call me. He said he'd do his best to get you to take her back to her mother.”

“Thank God he got me to go along. He told me nothing.”

“He couldn't. He was afraid they'd get to you. He knew you couldn't tell them what you didn't know. For Erin's sake.”

“I understand. I should tell you that I think Seamus McGuiness is dead. His body is in the cottage where he met me.”

Father Flaherty made the sign of the cross. “God rest that good man. When you have Erin back safe in her mother's arms, say a prayer for his beautiful soul.”